I hope no one minds a long story. It was an interesting experience for me, and I hope that I wrote in such a way that it conveys the feelings and experiences we had. Unfortunately, one person was killed in the Sand Springs tornado that I mention- one also touched down in Moore.
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On March 25, 2015, I was a 1,000 miles away from home- I was in Oklahoma for a week, about a half hour from OKC, in the vicinity of Tecumseh. I have been quite fascinated with tornadoes, supercells, and lightning, but I have never had the opportunity to see either of the first two on that list. Enter: Oklahoma's first storm outbreak of the year.
I was working with Christian Aid Ministries that week, rebuilding from the tornadoes that occured during the May 18-21, 2013 outbreak. All week, I had eyed the chance of severe storms on Wednesday evening- hopefully, I could finally get some nice pictures of flat land lightning from a distance. Then, on Tuesday, the forecast stared ramping up. A bigger chance of severe storms, and a chance of hail. I would have to wait until Wednesday for the SPC to put out their tornado outlook, but chances looked good that I would see my thunderstorm.
On Wednesday, I checked the tornado outlook. Surprisingly, we were squarely in the 5% hatched area on the map. Later, the forecast was upgraded on the NOAA side- chance of 70 MPH winds and tennis-ball sized hail. Wow. I kept my fellow workers updated on it throughout the day. For some reason, when the temperature is around 80, there are virtually no clouds in the sky, and it is sunny, you get mildly doubted when you predict that the sky could fall in.
"It ain't gonna do anything.", one fellow predicted. I almost agreed. Storms seemed to be rising and then falling right back down.
Somewhere around 5:30, we were headed from the house I was working on, back to our base- numerous bunk trailers, campers, and a food trailer all set up in a group on a spot graciously provided for us by the Joshua Foundation in Tecumseh. I checked RadarScope on my phone, and to my surprise, a tornado warning was in effect near Tulsa. I informed the others in the 7.3L Ford diesel we were riding in, and our crew leader gave a slight grin. "Wanna chase it?", he asked, while looking at me in the rearview mirror. The guy to my left, decidedly not a Ford enthusiast, spoke up quickly. "NO!", he exclaimed, " I don't wanna be resurrected in a 7.3!"
That storm was no threat to us- it was around 70 miles to the northeast. However, there were a couple cells to the west that I wondered about. We got to our camp, and most of the others went to take showers. Not me; there was a storm, and I had a radar app and a camera. As the storm closed in, I set up my tripod that I had stowed away in my suitcase for just such an occasion. Beautiful Mammatus clouds were suspended in the air, seeming to hang from the entire sky. I had seen a few, but this was a whole different ballgame compared to back home. I could see the storm in the distance.
Tecumseh, Oklahoma Supercell and Mammatus by D. Vance, on FlickrWe had plans to go to a steakhouse for supper, and though I wasn't keen at all on leaving this photographic opportunity, I grudgingly agreed to go. I didn't want to be left alone right then, and this WAS a once in a lifetime opportunity to try this restaraunt after all.
We headed West. Immediately, I began regretting my decision after a recheck of the radar image.
"Y'all are crazy!" our driver and fellow volunteer asserted from the front of the van. In the back, sentiments were much different. My companions were enamored by the thoughts of big juicy steaks, and no storm was going to change their minds.
"This is crazy. You know we're going to destroy this van right now, right?" I asked. 2" hail was mentioned on the NOAA Severe Thunderstorm Warning. Then, just a couple miles from the base, everyone's mind changed from 'steakhouse' mode to, 'let's get OUT of here' mode.
Dark clouds were jutting out from the sculpted and circular storm cloud. I was in awe, and continually taking pictures out the window. As they got closer, we passed a tornado siren mounted on top of a pole. Instantaneously, it screamed to life, blasting its warning directly into the open driver's . The erie sound combined with the ominous visual out our window quickly changed everyone's minds.
Tecumseh, Oklahoma Supercell by D. Vance, on FlickrThe van was turned and we rolled back for the base. I was simultaneously taking pictures, and checking radar. I am not an experienced storm chaser, but I do know what a hook echo is on radar, and this storm had one. We overshot the base headed south, and the driver began looking for a place to turn around. "Go further south!" I yelled from the back of the van, trying to make my voice heard. It was getting very close, and with the amount of motion and lack of a good vantage point, we couldn't be certain that there was no tornado in it. By my reasoning, If we drove further south, it would pass to our north. The decision was also influenced by our shelter situation at the base: to my knowledge, we had no building with a solid foundation to shelter in.
The driver had other ideas. "If we need to go south, so do the people back there!" he replied, signalling an intention to pick up the remaining people at the base. I knew there wasn't time. The mood in the van quickly turned to a nervous state. "They've got vehicles! they can drive! just PLEASE go south!" several volunteers echoed this sentiment. We went back to the base. "IS THERE A BUILDING WITH A SOLID FOUNDATION THERE?", I roared, trying to be heard a van length away from the driver, and trying to out-talk 6 or 7 other voices. "Not to my knowledge." he replied, and I seriously began to question the decisions being made.
As we pulled into the base, the leading edge of the storm overtook us. Swirling, twisting, rolling masses jutting out from the bottom of the cloud seemed to be scraping along at 50 feet off the ground.
Tecumseh, Oklahoma Supercell II by D. Vance, on FlickrWe quickly located the rest of the group, which had taken refuge. Much to our relief, there WAS a solid building- with at least 12" concrete walls. We took shelter until the strorm passed, and, armed with our radar, finally DID make it to our steakhouse. It was an experience I'll never forget: my first supercell, which, I'm almost surprised, didn't put down a tornado. It certainly seemed to have the necessary motion.
And maybe I'm crazy, insane, and perhaps I'm reckless. But I want to do it again. Even though there was a little fear and a little uncertainty, it was all worth it to see that beautiful structure rolling across the open sky towards us. There's almost nothing more beautiful, more awesome, and more majestic, than an Oklahoma Supercell. I wish I had stayed at the base the whole time, and gotten better pictures, but I can't change that decision. I do have a couple more that I'll probably hunt for and eventually upload.
