by Aaron Graves
The first decision was a no-brainer. I just happened to end up behind Sean Casey’s TIV on the back roads of Hartley County in the Texas panhandle. The TIV turned west and barreled into the heart of the storm. I turned east and fled.
Sean has an armored tank. I have a Toyota.
It was when we hit Channing that things got tricky. A severe line of storms was moving in from New Mexico. Do I turn south into the “badlands” of Hartley County, or go north on a level, paved highway back to Dalhart? Either way, that line was going to overtake me. It was a question of where I wanted to be when it did.
I choose to head back to Dalhart. Had I gone south, I might have glimpsed a funnel cloud, possibly a tornado. Instead, I drove through a deluge of epic proportions - an inadvertent core punch.
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed every minute of it!
I call my self a “cloud chaser”, because, basically, in the world of storm chasing and storm chasers, I am a roadside spectator. I have logged more miles driving to my office to watch storm chasers streaming on the Internet than I have actually gone storm chasing myself. If a storm comes within 10 miles of Dalhart, I will drive out and try to get some photos, but that’s about the extent of it.
Understand, I would love to build an armored tank and tilt at supercells every spring. I am a trained Skywarn Spotter. I read and watch anything offered by experienced chasers on what and what not to do. But my day to day reality keeps me safely tied to home.
Thus, after three years of drought, I was giddy to see a legitimate risk of tornado producing storms in my neighborhood for the first time since 2010. I knew it was legitimate by all the green dots visible near Dalhart on Spotter Network. This was going to be a great chase, especially since my wife procured herself an iPhone, complete with real time radar and Google maps!
With that, I could now chase up to 30 miles from Dalhart!
When I saw a storm developing in Hartley county near the Texas, New Mexico border, I left Dalhart and headed south. My wife took the job of chase navigator because, well, it is her iPhone. The storm was moving east and we had time to get south of it for the best viewing. Thus, we found ourselves eventually following the TIV.
My little storm was trying hard to put on a show for us. The shear amount of lightning was impressive and scary enough to keep me in the car. But a line of severe storms was quickly advancing from the west. That's when we broke off from the TIV and went to Channing as mentioned at the outset.
In retrospect, the safest option at that point would have been to continue east towards Dumas and ride out the storms there. However, I felt confident I could make it back to Dalhart. My storm never went severe, so even if I had to drive through the outer edge of it, I wasn’t worried about large hail or a tornado surprising me.
Never underestimate the atmosphere. It can change faster than you can drive, and the speed limit on that highway is 75 mph. Instead of being absorbed by the approaching line, my little storm exploded into a massive, rain producing beast. The final 10 miles into Dalhart were unreal. I don’t think anyone has seen rain like that since Noah built the ark.
Just outside of town, we broke out of the heavy downpour. It was like being at the bottom of a canyon. A black wall of rain was visible in front of us. To the side, another wall of rain was consuming the high school football field. Within a minute, the deluge overtook us again.
We eventually sought shelter in a friend’s basement. Spotters reported a funnel cloud near Channing, close to where we had left the TIV behind, so a tornado warning was issued. Afterwards, we parked just outside of Dalhart to watch a full double rainbow take shape as the sun set.
I didn't get an amazing tornado or supercell photo yesterday. But all in all, it was an evening well spent.
The first decision was a no-brainer. I just happened to end up behind Sean Casey’s TIV on the back roads of Hartley County in the Texas panhandle. The TIV turned west and barreled into the heart of the storm. I turned east and fled.
Sean has an armored tank. I have a Toyota.
 |
| The famous Tornado Intercept Vehicle south of Hartley. |
I choose to head back to Dalhart. Had I gone south, I might have glimpsed a funnel cloud, possibly a tornado. Instead, I drove through a deluge of epic proportions - an inadvertent core punch.
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed every minute of it!
I call my self a “cloud chaser”, because, basically, in the world of storm chasing and storm chasers, I am a roadside spectator. I have logged more miles driving to my office to watch storm chasers streaming on the Internet than I have actually gone storm chasing myself. If a storm comes within 10 miles of Dalhart, I will drive out and try to get some photos, but that’s about the extent of it.
Understand, I would love to build an armored tank and tilt at supercells every spring. I am a trained Skywarn Spotter. I read and watch anything offered by experienced chasers on what and what not to do. But my day to day reality keeps me safely tied to home.
Thus, after three years of drought, I was giddy to see a legitimate risk of tornado producing storms in my neighborhood for the first time since 2010. I knew it was legitimate by all the green dots visible near Dalhart on Spotter Network. This was going to be a great chase, especially since my wife procured herself an iPhone, complete with real time radar and Google maps!
With that, I could now chase up to 30 miles from Dalhart!
When I saw a storm developing in Hartley county near the Texas, New Mexico border, I left Dalhart and headed south. My wife took the job of chase navigator because, well, it is her iPhone. The storm was moving east and we had time to get south of it for the best viewing. Thus, we found ourselves eventually following the TIV.
My little storm was trying hard to put on a show for us. The shear amount of lightning was impressive and scary enough to keep me in the car. But a line of severe storms was quickly advancing from the west. That's when we broke off from the TIV and went to Channing as mentioned at the outset.
In retrospect, the safest option at that point would have been to continue east towards Dumas and ride out the storms there. However, I felt confident I could make it back to Dalhart. My storm never went severe, so even if I had to drive through the outer edge of it, I wasn’t worried about large hail or a tornado surprising me.
Never underestimate the atmosphere. It can change faster than you can drive, and the speed limit on that highway is 75 mph. Instead of being absorbed by the approaching line, my little storm exploded into a massive, rain producing beast. The final 10 miles into Dalhart were unreal. I don’t think anyone has seen rain like that since Noah built the ark.
Just outside of town, we broke out of the heavy downpour. It was like being at the bottom of a canyon. A black wall of rain was visible in front of us. To the side, another wall of rain was consuming the high school football field. Within a minute, the deluge overtook us again.
 |
| Splashing through puddles at the day's end. |
I didn't get an amazing tornado or supercell photo yesterday. But all in all, it was an evening well spent.
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