The Making of a Historic Wind and Fire Event

The recent historic wind and fire event that literally blew through the Great Plains was anomalous in every sense of the word. But, not all anomalies are created equal. We see high-impact events all the time, but not all fall into the historic category. With today’s post I wanted to dig into some of the science behind this event and what set it apart from other high-end events.

Let’s first set the stage. A potent shortwave ejected out of the Central Rockies Wednesday morning, December 15, 2021, and very rapidly lifted northeast from the Central Plains into the Upper Midwest/Great Lakes by Wednesday night. Negatively-tilted shortwaves often mean business, and this one was no different.

What set this system apart from similarly-tilted shortwaves was the very strong mid-level jet that accompanied it. The observed 12z sounding at ABQ showed a 500mb wind speed of 100kt, while the observed 12z DDC sounding measured a 700mb wind of 65 kt. 

The 21z RAP 500mb analysis (shown earlier) suggested a peak mid-level wind speed of around 120 kt at 500mb as it moved out over Kansas. A mid-level jet that strong this time of year is more unusual.

Let me pause here a minute. Take a close look at that DDC sounding again. 

 On a day like this, with deep mixing expected, you can sometimes use an observed morning sounding to get a rough idea of how strong the winds might be in that area later in the day. In this case, the morning started with a fairly stout inversion across western and central Kansas, but the forecasted combination of daytime heating with cooling aloft (beneath the shortwave) suggested the potential to mix deeply, with the sounding revealing how strong the winds may be within that mixed layer. The DDC sounding, for example, showed 60-80kt in the potential mixed layer, suggesting peak wind potential of 80-90 mph for any area that could mix deep enough. The 21z RAP analysis reveals the areas from western to central Kansas where some of the deepest mixing occurred (shown by the steepest low-level lapse rates).

At the surface, an unusually deep surface low developed, adding a strong pressure gradient component to the wind potential. In Minnesota, the low pressure set arecord. The strong downslope drying east of the Rockies also helped setup a sharp dryline across Nebraska and Kansas.

 

The ECMWF’s Extreme Forecast Index (EFI) really helps put it all together. The EFI is a great forecasting tool to help determine which events may be anomalous. It can also reveal the anomalous events that are not like the others. 

On the map above, you’ll notice the EFI is maxed out (pink shading) over a large area of the Plains. Looking closer, though, you’ll notice a Shift of Tails (SoT) of 2. In my experience, that’s a separating marker between events. For wind, the combination of a high EFI value AND a SoT of 2 puts an area in a higher-end, potentially record-breaking, setup. The end result? A widespread area of verystrong, damaging winds. The wind, alone, was anomalous, but this event didn’t stop there.

When you overlap strong winds with a warm and very dry airmass, bad things tend to happen. This event appeared to be a classic fire outbreak setup, as researched and shown by Lindley,et al.

 

Adding fuel to the fire, literally, was very dry antecedent conditions. From an anomaly standpoint, there was a very large footprint of dry conditions across Kansas, with much of the state running 10-25%, or less, of normal for rainfall (since November 1, 2021). Fire weather aside, this also added to the risk of blowing dust.

 

Higher end fire weather days do occur on the Plains, but another aspect of this event that sets it apart is that it came in December. This December has been an active one for fire weather in Kansas. In fact, since 2006, only one other December was more active (2017). Outside of 2017, no other December in that time period even comes close.

Lastly, I want to highlight the anomalous combination of shear and instability, by December’s standards. The focus for severe weather was over the Upper Midwest, but it all started in the Central Plains. A plume of high PWats surged north through the Central Plains, ahead of the ejecting shortwave, and went well north all the way into, and through, the Great Lakes region. Getting that amount of moisture return that far north in December is a low frequency occurrence, and more unusual in December.

 

A moistening airmass beneath steep lapse rates and cooling temps aloft supported modest destabilization, and a weakening cap, ahead of the advancing dryline/Pacific cold front. This was accompanied by more than adequate shear for organized severe convection.

The shear/instability combo isn’t unusual for this part of the U.S., in general. In December, though? Not so much. An anomalous combination of shear and instability stretched from Kansas to Michigan, setting the stage for a remarkable swath of severe weather, including several tornadoes. And notice, once again, a Shift of Tails of 2 on the EFI plots below.

For perspective, Kansas, Nebraska, Iowa, and Minnesota have had more Severe Thunderstorm Warnings issued this December than any other December on record (dating back to at least 1986, based on IEM data). Since this post was focused on the science and anomalies of the event, though, I’ll leave the product climatology for another day. 

In summary, a truly historic, mid-latitude storm system had a “perfect storm” combination of high-end anomalies from top to bottom, and everywhere in between. Anomalous features regularly come around, but not all at the same time. Every now and then, though, they line up in perfect sync, often with devastating impacts. This post only touches the surface of the science involved in this event, but I hope it provided a little context to just how anomalous and unusual this event was over a huge footprint of the U.S., while also serving as a mini training moment for what to look out for in future higher-end wind and fire events. 

NOTE: Some of the mesoanalysis images shown above were from the NWS Wichita’s event summary. I helped make that summary, and the images I used in this blog are ones I made. I just wanted to clarify that in full disclosure to make sure it is understood that those images were not improperly taken from someone else's work.

Backpack Leadership

Several years ago, I started to really get into leadership books. All have been very helpful for me in many different areas, but the one I’m reading now (“Developing the Leaders Around You” by John Maxwell) takes a little bit of a different approach compared to many of the others. Instead of a self-help approach, it’s more of an others-help approach. I’ve never heard someone refer to a book as being an others-help, but this one really is. It’s all about helping you (the reader) help others.

Meanwhile, I was listening to a podcast this evening that also hit on helping others. The hosts made a great analogy, likening helping others with lessening the load of a heavy backpack. They mentioned that each of us carry a backpack with some amount of weight in it. Throughout life, we will have opportunities to help shoulder the weight someone is carrying (a struggle at work, a loss in the family, etc.). That act, be it listening, lending a helping hand, covering a shift…it helps the other person, but can, oddly enough, help us. 

Think about it. Covering a shift for a coworker can be tough, but there can be a joy there as well. Maybe the weather is quiet and you offer to take some extra shift duties so that another forecaster can work on a project or upcoming presentation. Or, perhaps covering a shift for someone helps with their home/work-life balance during a busy week with the kids.

What has stuck out to me, lately, is how much of leadership is focused on others. John Maxwell argues that “The growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.”. When I first started reading this book, it kind of threw me off a little. I’m a big believer in servant leadership, but Maxwell really takes it to another level. He even goes as far as to say that some of the people we lead and develop will go on to be better at leadership and/or some other skill, than we are. Stings a little bit, doesn’t it? At least it does for me. 

There was an entry-level NWS forecaster I was helping train for a couple of years and it was really neat to see how quickly this individual progressed during that time. It brought a lot of joy to me to help shoulder that extra weight in their backpack (the extra weight that often comes with a new job). Towards the end of that initial training time, I remember a point when I realized this forecaster was basically climbing the mountain on their own. I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but I recall thinking that this person was going to be more skilled than me at this rate. I started running into a little bit of a self-conscious wall. The focus began shifting away from training a fellow coworker, and instead to an unhealthy focus on myself.

I’m sure that John Maxwell knew this would be an issue for some of his readers, like myself, and I'm so glad he addressed it. He points out that “To be a great developer of people, you must be personally secure, because taking…people to the height of their potential may mean they will pass you by.”. This forecaster was passing me by and I had to be ok with that. Why? Because that's what leadership is about.

What I’m seeing more and more is that leadership is not about being better than others at something, it’s not about being a higher grade, it’s not about getting extra freedoms or having fewer people to answer to. Leadership is about others. It’s about serving others, it’s about providing resources, it’s about giving opportunities…it’s about setting others up for success. For me, it’s giving up radar (which I love doing) and, instead, doing routine duties (not as exciting) so that someone else can have an important learning opportunity. It's about giving up my favorite sit-stand workstation because it's vital to another forecaster's success on a midnight shift. It's about having that tough conversation about a disagreement or problem. It’s about effectively leading a shift in a way that makes the environment as peaceful as possible, even when things are going sideways. “Lead people, manage things” John encourages. Sometimes leadership is about being hopeful and helping keep morale up, a task which can be very difficult!

And no, this doesn't mean you never focus on yourself. John points out that there is an important aspect of leadership that does involve ourselves. Are we learning, are we improving, are we leading effectively? I would add...are you taking time for yourself to just rest and relax at times. Those are important questions to regularly address. What has struck me, though, is that leadership is not about my position, popularity, or level of technical skill. The challenge for me is daily making sure that my actions and motivations stem from a genuine care for others.

Looking around, some of the best leaders I’ve ever worked with are the ones who made leadership about others. Those are the leaders who have had the greatest impact on me, and that is the leader I want to be.

Sandbagging the Delta

In the fall of 1992, the stage began to be set for a flood that would eventually devastate farms, towns, and livelihoods along the Mississippi River Valley during the summer months of 1993. As the waters rose throughout the Central U.S., people took action, not just to save their homes, but also the homes of others.

Of all the stories I read of people helping others, one man summed it up nicely. He said, “I was 20-21 at the time and saw what one person could do for many.” (1) As a Meteorologist, I don’t enjoy seeing devastation from weather events, but what never grows old is the way people come together to help others. Time and time again I’ve watched people help each other no matter what their race, religion, or economic status is. The damaging effects of weather are somehow slightly brightened by people putting aside their differences to help a fellow human being out. Listen to some of these accounts from the summer of 1993…

“I spent most of that summer sandbagging, filling sandbags and going to where help was needed.”

“… A friend and I joined about 10 strangers and off we went to sandbag.”

“A call went out to volunteer on the wall in Germania, so I went. This wall was big, had pumps behind it to relieve pressure, and we were defending dozens of homes. … Easily 30-plus people were on the line moving thousands of bags. Anyone could have been on that line, from high school drop-outs to college graduates. The only thing that we had in common is that we all stunk of sweat and smelled the ripe water on the other side of the wall.”

“I spent every evening from 8 p.m. to 2 a.m. sandbagging” (1)

 

Words like “strangers” and “only thing in common…” stand out to me. People were helping each other whether they knew them or not. Humanity helping humanity. It’s a sight to behold and is a thing of beauty.

Tomorrow, August 1^st, is the anniversary of the peak river stage along the Mississippi River near St. Louis, and it got me thinking of how I could help my fellow man and woman in this flood of COVID. My wife and I decided to get vaccinated earlier this year and “sandbag” our home, so to speak. But, I feel like our help doesn’t stop there.

It appears that the Delta variant of COVID is like a renewed rise in flood waters, putting certain communities at risk once again. I had hoped the flood waters were receding for good, but it appears that may not be the case. Just like people coming together during the summer of 1993, I don’t just want to ask what I can do to help my house. I want to find ways to help the community as well. My home may be at lower risk of impact, but this is a community-wide fight.

So with that, my wife and I have decided to start wearing masks in public once again, not in fear and not because it’s required, but in support of our community. We care for our community and want to do our part to help fight against the potential renewed flooding that is COVID and the Delta variant.

At this point, I hear some probably questioning whether COVID is as big of a problem as some make it out to be. I hear you on that, and sometimes I wonder that myself. However, as a Meteorologist, I regularly see people not take certain weather events seriously, sometimes with devastating consequences (this storm won’t be as bad as the last one, tornadoes never strike here, etc). Some even laugh it off (ever heard of hurricane parties?).

Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of knowing in advance exactly what will happen with a weather event or with the Delta variant. And so we each have to make a decision on how to prepare. But, I believe that the decision doesn’t stop with us. We may not all agree on the severity or impact of COVID, we may not all share the same race, religion, or political background, but we do all share one thing…we are all part of humanity. So, maybe the question we should ask ourselves is what can I do for my community? My wife and I have asked that question and made our decision, and will continue to re-evaluate that decision. Will you join us and do the same? I’m not asking others to make the same decision we did, but I would challenge those reading this to ask what is best for your community during this time. Just like during the Flood of ’93, helping your community may be uncomfortable, annoying, and inconvenient. But, in the end, humanity helping humanity is a beautiful thing and has a way of turning enemies into friends. 

My hope is that we, as a human race, will find a way to come together during this time, community helping community, neighbor helping neighbor, thinking not only of ourselves and our personal rights, but of others, too. What an amazing opportunity we have.

References

(1) “Readers Share their Memories of the Flood of 1993”. St Louis Post Dispatch, 11 August 2013. https://www.stltoday.com/news/local/metro/readers-share-their-memories-of-the-flood-of-1993/article_9982bbaf-8981-5b4b-adb1-4a6b11653b75.html. Accessed 31 July 2021.

Baseballs and Caps - Messaging Uncertainty

Imagine yourself at the forecast desk, or about to brief partners, or working up a “Key Takeaways” graphic for social media. You’re looking through various model guidance and you see a very consistent trend for a very concerning environment over the next 24 hours, characterized by extreme instability (4000-5000 j/kg MLCAPE), modest shear (30-35kt effective), weak inhibition (-25 j/k CIN), and very steep lapse rates (8-9 C/km). It’s the kind of environment you tell your spouse to keep the flashlight and basement handy. But, there’s a caveat. You can’t find any appreciable large-scale forcing for ascent and low-level convergence is weak, at best. Oh, and there’s a little ridging building in aloft. It’s one of those very conditional, but non-zero threats. The thing is, we’re not talking about a conditional threat of pea size hail and 30 mph wind gusts. This is a conditional threat of baseballs, 80 mph wind gusts, and the occasional EF-3 tornado. It may be that only one storm forms, but the impact would be high. But, from a probabilistic standpoint, it’s likely that people will see puffy clouds and experience a hot, muggy, storm-free day. What do you do?

It’s a not-to-uncommon question faced by Meteorologists on the Plains, especially in the transition from spring to summer patterns, where instability is trending higher, but the stronger flow aloft is shifting away from the area and forcing is weak. It’s a target of opportunity that probably deserves some attention, but how much?

This week I begin my fourth year forecasting the weather in the Central Plains, and I still have a lot to learn. These conditional high-impact days are intriguing, a challenge to forecast, and carry a lot of weight. If you tell people severe weather is possible, will they treat it like it’s likely? Does the crying wolf syndrome come into play? What if you skip messaging the low probability of occurrence, but then it happens? Which is worse, crying wolf or “it hit without warning”? Maybe the answer varies by region of the country? Maybe there isn’t a one-size-fits-all-regions answer.

There are a lot of factors at play here, some of which social science probably gives us the best avenue moving forward in an increasingly probabilistic realm of messaging.

I recently asked some fellow Mets, on Twitter, what they thought this scenario (if interested, you can read the thread to see the discussion). Something in that discussion that struck me was our ability, as Meteorologists, to message the environment. We focus a lot on messaging the forecast, but I’m seeing more and more that the message can’t stop there. Dr. Julie Demuth suggests that we “stop thinking of a given forecast as the end-point and start thinking of it as the starting-point for a conversation.”. In our scenario above, our users are seeing a low probability of storms in our forecast, but do they understand the magnitude of severe weather that could occur if storms do form? I wonder if targets of opportunity extend beyond just our forecast grids. Maybe the environment, itself, is a target.

We may not change our forecast, but we might consider changing our messaging.

Three years ago this month, I worked a shift that featured a conditional, high-impact environment.  I ended up working a 13 hour shift that day…a day that included baseball size hail and an EF-3 tornado. Three years later, I worked a shift with a similar conditional threat with a very similar environment. That shift ended on time, and did not include any baseballs or tornadoes. Two shifts with a similar, high-impact potential, but with drastically different outcomes.

Probabilistic forecasting isn’t exactly new for Meteorologists, or even our users. However, it appears that we are moving into an advanced realm of forecasting and messaging that has a higher ratio of probabilistic to deterministic info, with a learning curve both for us and for our users. I get the sense that there isn’t one right answer for all scenarios, but I still am not sure where to land on these “fringe” events, so-to-speak. I’m hoping continued discussion, group-think, trial and error, user feedback, and social science findings will help us as we continue to seek effective messaging of low-probability events.

If you have any ideas, suggestions, or comments on this topic, I’d love to hear them! Comment on the post, shoot me a message, or add to the Twitter discussion. We’re better off if we learn together.

Remembering April 27, 2011

Ten years ago, today, I came minutes away from possibly losing my life. This is my story…

The craziness of April 27^th, 2011 started days in advance, for me, as multiple rounds of severe weather and flooding impacted areas from Arkansas to Kentucky. Many nights prior to 4/27, I stayed up watching the severe weather edge closer and closer to north Alabama (where my wife and I were living at the time). Storms generally reached our area in a weakened state, so the bigger impact for me was not getting as much sleep leading up to that Wednesday (April 27).

On Tuesday night (April 26), yet another round of storms developed to our west. This round looked like it had a little more potential to reach our area with at least some severe weather threat, but not until late that night or early Wednesday morning. I decided to at least stay up to see SPC’s initial Day 1 Outlook for 4/27, then my plan was to see what the storms were doing to the west to decide whether to stay up or to try to get some rest. Not surprisingly, north Alabama was put under the rare High Risk of severe weather. 

SPC's Day 1 Severe Weather Outlook for April 27, 2011

 

As best I can remember, this was the first time I was ever in an area that was outlooked in a high risk. Even at that late hour of night, the outlook triggered a little bit of an adrenaline rush as I pondered how the day would play out. As tough as it was to counteract that, I decided to force myself to lie down for a few hours knowing I would need the rest.

My "nap" didn't last long. Around 2:30am (yes, only 1 and a half hours of sleep), our weather radio went off. The first tornado watch of the day was issued as that round of storms, that I previously mentioned was developing to our west, began entering western Alabama. 

 

Since we still had an hour or two before they reached the Huntsville area (where we lived), I thought maybe I could lay back down for at least another 30 minutes or so. Right about that time, tornado warnings went up for a couple of counties to our west. I decided to get up and turn the TV on to watch the wall-to-wall coverage that I knew would start soon on the local TV stations. The line of storms continued to race eastward with a wind and tornado threat. As it approached I-65 (just west of our house), a tornado warning was issued for Madison County (where we lived). Much to my wife's dismay, I ran into our bedroom to wake her up around 5 am and we got in the center of our house. You could hear the wind howling outside, but no sounds of things breaking. The storm passed, we still had power, and things seemed to be ok.

After the storm passed, my wife tried to get a little more sleep before going into work. I was planning the same, but wanted to take one last look at the storms since they would likely hit the Chattanooga area shortly (where a lot of my extended family lives). Unfortunately, the line of storms was producing numerous, brief tornadoes and widespread wind damage. It appeared that the worst of the line was going to go right through the Chattanooga area. Realizing this, I called my family there to give them a heads up. My hope for a little more sleep was put on hold.

One of the hardest aspects of being a Meteorologist is the waiting. We give people a heads up, hope they take action, then patiently wait to hear how they fared. When you’re warning family, it takes the waiting to a whole other level. As I watched that line of storms move through Chattanooga, all I could do was wait, for what seemed like eternity….

About 30 minutes later, I finally got a call from one of my family members. She said the storm was crazy. She had no power and trees were down everywhere, including one that narrowly missed her house. Other houses in her neighborhood were not so lucky. There is a highway that runs a decent distance beyond her house, which normally can't be seen because of all the trees in her neighborhood. You can see it now. Eventually I heard from the rest of my family. Everyone was accounted for and alive!

Back in the Huntsville area, things had quieted down with just some light rain falling. By now, it was about mid-morning or so. My wife had already left for work, but I was staying home since I was off that day. One of the tricky parts of forecasting thunderstorms and severe weather is trying to figure out what, if any, impact one round of storms will have on the next. Sometimes one round can all but end the severe weather threat. Despite widespread storms that morning, this event was only just getting started, and would regularly prove not all events play by the "rules".

Around 9 am, more storms began developing to our west across Mississippi. These storms formed into yet another line and began marching towards Alabama for round two. 

 

As those storms approached our area, an isolated storm developed out ahead of the line (which usually means trouble). This storm had some rotation with it and strengthened some as it approached our house. And, again, tornado sirens started blaring. I began watching out my window to see the storm. As it approached, I began hearing an eerily loud sound that I hadn’t heard with other storms before. It made me nervous because I was wondering if I was hearing the sound of a tornado. I could see the rain shaft approaching and figured it could be a rain-wrapped tornado. Then it hit. Fortunately, that loud sound was NOT a tornado. It was hail…and LOTS of it! The hail was not that big (only about penny sized), but it was the loudest hailstorm I have ever experienced. Hail was raining down hard and fast. The hail was so loud, and there was so much of it, that it could be heard from far away as the storm approached. The storm left the ground covered in a broken layer of white.

That was storm number two at our house. Unfortunately, this was also the first, of many, mistakes I made that day (and one that could have cost me my life). If you’re under a tornado warning and you hear an ominous sound, don’t take your chances. Take shelter!! As interesting as it was to watch that hail storm, I NEVER should have waited that long to take shelter. If it weren’t for the morning storms, that storm might have had a better chance of producing a tornado. Shortly after that storm hit, the 2nd line of storms came through. 

 

More sirens blaring as a tornado warning was issued. From my garage, I watched as the storms approached. The sky to the west was dark and green so I figured it would at least have some hail. As I waited for the storms to arrive, I got a phone call from a cousin of mine who was very afraid of tornadoes. He said he and his family, south of Huntsville, were taking shelter and asked me what was going to happen. You could hear the fear in his voice. I told him to do exactly as his family said. Deep down, though, I knew I couldn't promise him that everything would be ok. That was one of the toughest phone calls I have ever taken. I almost broke down and cried. I fought back tears as I told him it would be ok.

Shortly after that call, the storms hit our area. Strong winds began hitting the house along with hail. The lights began flickering. At that point, I tried to close the garage door (I had it opened so I could watch the storms). But, as Murphy's Law would have it, the power went off before the door shut. I ran over and closed it manually then ran back into the house. The wind continued strong for a bit longer, then quit. With no power, I had to rely on the internet on my phone and the radio in my car. I listened as storm reports began coming in from the area, specifically the Madison and Harvest areas (suburbs of Huntsville). There were reports of trees and power lines down everywhere. Later, NWS surveys determined that some of this damage was from embedded tornadoes. I did a quick check on our house and determined that no damage had been done. But, now I was stuck in my house because my car was stuck in the garage with a door that I assumed I could not open manually. For those wondering, my cousin and his family survived the storm, although I didn't hear about them being safe until much later.

For the next couple of hours I continued to get updates from a friend of mine in the NWS (Matt), my phone, and the radio in my car. I listened as the first of many tornadic supercells began moving into Alabama (the “March of the Supercells” some have called it). 

 

Then I got a call that I will never forget. Matt called and said that there were reports of a 1/2 mile wide tornado on the ground near Phil Campbell, AL (SW of Huntsville). He said, "Roger, if that storm holds together, it will hit northwest Madison County within the hour." Oftentimes, tornadic storms will produce multiple tornadoes, but not necessarily one continuously. April 27^th was different. Conditions were such that any tornado that developed could be large, possibly violent, and long-tracked. Hearing Matt's report got me concerned. I told him my car was stuck in the garage and he said I should figure some way to get it open. The house we lived in was nice, but wasn’t a well-built, brick home, and most likely would not survive a direct hit from a tornado. Although, even well-built brick homes were not surviving tornadoes that day.

I knew I couldn't stay. I went through the house and began getting some important things (legal docs, medical history, etc.) and put them in my car. Around that time, Matt called again and said the tornado was holding together and was headed straight for Harvest (the suburb of Huntsville we lived in). About that time, my weather radio went off as the NWS Huntsville office issued the tornado warning for Madison County ahead of the approaching tornado. Eerily, though, all I heard after the warning tone was static (instead of the normal voice that comes on with the wording of the warning).

I ran to the garage and was finally able to get the door open manually. As I pulled out of the garage, I was struck with a fear I have not experienced before. The lightning was ridiculous and the sky was an eery green…AGAIN! The fear came from what I saw when I looked up. There were pieces of debris (mostly small pieces of wood, paper, and insulation) flying around in the air above me and landing in our yard. I knew the tornado had to be close. What I didn't know was just how close and just how big this tornado was.

 

I honestly thought I was too late. I kept trying, frantically, to call Matt, wanting to know what was going on. Keep in mind, the power never came back on at our house after the morning storms, so I didn't have all of my normal sources for weather information to keep up with what all was transpiring. All I had was the car radio (verbal descriptions don't always fully convey what others can see on TV), my phone, and Matt. Eventually, I even lost the ability to use my phone because the battery died and I had no way to charge it (I had no car charger at the time). 

Before my phone died, I finally got through to Matt and he told me that I may be too late. He said I should drive as fast as possible if I wanted to leave. I was in a bit of freak out mode at this point, but I decided to leave. I pulled out of my driveway and started going about 80 mph down the road headed east. 

 

As I was driving, small pieces of debris continued to fall from the sky and hit my car. This tipped Matt and I off to the fact that maybe I wasn’t out of the tornado’s path. I thought I was driving AWAY from the tornado, but little did I know I was driving towards it! I want to pause here for a little perspective. I don’t know how much time elapsed, but the tornado (an EF-3 at that time) did end up crossing the very road I was driving on. Because of the debris falling from the sky, and based on a little radar interrogation after-the-fact, I’m guessing it was a matter of minutes.

 

What was supposed to be an attempt to get OUT of the tornado’s path, became an attempt to outrun the tornado. I drove as fast as I could. Eventually, I saw an eerily, dark sky behind me and no more debris falling in front of me. I had made it, but I kept driving just to be safe. Then I hit traffic. It was around 5 pm and some people were getting off work early due to the storms. It was chaotic because none of the traffic lights worked due to the widespread wind damage and power outages from earlier in the day. Also, with all the rain from multiple rounds of storms, roads were beginning to flood. I could barely see because of the rain, so I pulled into a gas station south of the storm's path. At this time, I was briefly able to call my wife. I told her to stay at work and to NOT come home (if we even had one still).

Then, a second tornadic storm developed south of the one I had just outrun. This storm was headed straight for the gas station I was at. I quickly left the gas station and tried to get safely south. It was so hard to see…lightning was flashing everywhere and there was a lot of hail coming down. The hail sounded like it was at least golf ball sized. Crazy doesn't even describe the feeling. Once again, I pulled over, this time into a neighborhood. I tried calling Matt again. He said I was stuck and that he didn't know what I should do. The hail started getting worse and I knew this could be the hail core that often precedes a developing tornado. I figured I wouldn't survive in my car so I ran into the nearest house and began banging on the door…no answer. The lightning was getting worse. I was ready to just crouch down and ride it out on this porch. I was honestly afraid for my life (AGAIN). Then, I heard a noise…the door opened! This amazingly nice couple let me in and I spent the next hour with them in their bathroom as storm after storm moved through the area. You could hear the hail hitting the roof. I imagine the hail was a bit bigger than what hit our house earlier. Finally it calmed down.

Then we heard a new sound. A continuous stream of cops, ambulances, and fire trucks were headed north towards Harvest. Reports were coming in of people being trapped. I assumed I didn't have a house anymore. But, I wanted to get home to see. About 2 hours later, around 7pm, I finally got back to my neighborhood after driving through street after street of flooding and damage. Many roads were impassible. Much to my amazement, when I got to our street, I could see our house still standing! The way those storms were tracking, I really wasn’t sure I’d have much to come home to. We were so fortunate compared to other parts of our county and state. When I got home, the last of, I can't even remember how many, storms hit. More strong wind and hail, but no damage to the house. It was now around 8pm and I had not heard from my wife (she usually got off at 5). My goal now was to try to locate her. With all the impassible roads, I knew I couldn't drive around to find her. Cell phones were mostly useless as towers were damaged and the ones working were clogged with so many people trying to make calls. Little did I know, the call I made to her from the gas station around 4pm was the last time I would be able to call her directly that day.

At this point, I had been running on pure adrenaline. Remember, I had only gotten about 2 hours of sleep the night before and I hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning (too many storms and no power). I was exhausted, my head hurt, and I wanted to hear from Jen. Then, I got a text. She said she was at a friend's house! What a relief. Still, I was determined to go be with her. I drove to her friend's house which was only a few miles away. However, that three mile drive took over an hour. I got to her friend's house, only to discover she wasn't there. As it turns out, we had the same idea in mind. I was trying to get to her and she was trying to get to me. When I tried to get back home, the roads had been closed and I couldn’t find a way back to our house. Now I had to find somewhere to spend the night. I was so tired, I knew I would just have to continue my quest to get home in the morning. So, I drove to another friend's house in Huntsville. I finally got word from my Mom that she had spoken with Jen and that she was safe! God was so good to let me know this before going to bed. 

I slept for a long time, then made the trek back home the next morning (April 28). There was devastation everywhere. Whole buildings and houses were severely damaged or simply gone, leaving only slab foundations in some cases. Trees were debarked and de-leaved, making it look like a bunch of toothpicks sticking out of the ground. It was a much different Harvest than I once knew. On my way back home, I passed a car that had been flipped over on the road the day before. Where that car was flipped over was on the same road I had been on the day before while trying to outrun the tornado. It hit me...that car could have been me. To this day, I still wonder what happened to the people in that car. I never found out...

Later that morning, I finally made it home and there was Jen!  We hugged for a while then shared stories from the day before. I ate again for the first time in about 24 hours. It was surreal being back with her and thinking through what we had just experienced. In the days after, we stayed at many people's houses and did a lot of grilling out. Power was out across all of Huntsville. The main transmission lines that carried power into the area had been taken down by the tornado that passed through Harvest. Power finally came back on a week later (the following Wednesday).

Harvest will never be the same...Alabama will never be the same...much of the Southeastern US will never be the same…I will never be the same. I now have an appreciation for severe weather that I never had prior to that event. As a Meteorologist, I thought I was prepared; I wasn't.

If you remember one thing about my story, let it be this. Please don’t take severe weather lightly. Learn from my mistakes. Have a severe weather plan. Have a backup plan for what to do if things like cell phones, garage doors, weather radios, or electricity don’t work. Every event doesn’t have to be as severe or as widespread as April 27^th. All it takes is one tornado to wreck your world. The extra preparation could save your life...