First Tornado. And a move…?

Yep. You read it right.

May 1st, 2024. My crosstrek stuffed to the brim with all of my belongings. Favorite coffees included; now the stakes are actually high! At this moment, I was a mere toddler in the storm photography realm. Largely still am, but with more experience under my belt now. Consequentially, I took a conservative approach to chasing and positioning. For this day; when in doubt, stay south, and buffer is your friend!

I was driving from Amarillo to Midlothian (where my family lives) for the last stretch of my move. Traveling in late April or the beginning of May puts a fair chance of crossing some storms by coincidence, especially in North Texas. The Storm Prediction Center outlined an enhanced risk with supercells firing off closer to Kansas/Oklahoma Pan Handle with a possible dry line play south near Clarendon. Perfectly projected right along the 287 (my favorite road of all time), I was in the right place at the right time for the southern target. And it’s May. You chase in May. Period.

The northern target seemed to initially be more promising, but between moving, a tight budget and a little hopeful bias for some North Texas magic, I parked at the Allsups in Clarendon. Warm, incredibly moist air was rocketing from the southeast, with the wind holding a steady 20-40mph. It sounds cheesy, but it felt like tornado alley. Like I was becoming a character in one of those movies. Definitely surreal. Checking HRRR models, any updates from the SPC and thoughts from other chasers (hat nod to Mike Olbinski), I patiently waited for towers to start. I drove up and down the 70, the only quick, reliable highway within a 15 mile radius besides the 287. The uneven terrain took away any solid crossroads going west. This was not the day to take my chances down a dirt road. Getting 10 or so miles down the 70, I saw possible towers south, but I wasn’t sold. Then one started slightly north, but it was just too early to make a call. No bites yet, and that’s just how it goes.

When the middle cell’s anvil began expanding over the sky, the goosebumps started. Do we have our storm? I still wasn’t certain, but positioned closer to Clarendon to check it out. I was driving up a small hill when I noticed the dark grey on the western horizon. I couldn’t quite see the bottom of the storm, but it showed up on radar with a decent signature, and echo tops at 45k. I crested the canyon and finally had a clear vantage point to my left.

My world stopped. Everything immediately slowed.

I could clearly see. Well, not the rattlesnake on the ground right beside me though. We both gave each other a suprise and “friendly” hello. Little cranky and disagreeable I would say, but not enough to leave a mark. Don’t lose awareness in the field, even for a second. Murphy’s law can have some great timing.

Mother Nature has a beautiful way of humbling, doesn’t she?

Now with my heart in my throat laughing out of shock, I calmed myself and gave my new friend a goodbye. Regaining focus, I stared at the huge, clear rotating updraft, anvil ceiling and beautiful base with a cone-like bulge on the bottom. I was ecstatic at this point to just see a supercell in the first place and not need to go to the emergency room. Radar looked stronger and stronger, now hinting at an organizing velocity signature. It didn’t take long for this thing to anchor and have the textbook hook echo. Nerd talk for; it’s a rotating storm, it’s organizing, and now becoming the possible tornadic supercell of the day. Feeling, as I can best describe, disassociated from the moment like an actor in a movie watching my own self as the protagonist, I distinctly remember an odd sense of peace. The wind to my side gliding over the grasses. And nothing else. There’s practically a Godzilla in front of me, yet I feel as if I could read a book. Count my thoughts even.

I heard the brakes chirp from an oncoming old, white Chevy. As it pulled over next to me, a gentleman wearing blue jeans and a bright orange long sleeve hops out. He certainly fit the blue collar, classic Texan look.

“You one o’ them storm chasers!” he shouted.

I couldn’t make this up.

“Yessir I am, more or less!” I replied.

I met Leslie, around late 50’s and a local contractor from Clarendon who’s lived there his whole life. Trying to balance being present and connecting with a local while watching this lowering persist, I was juggling conversation with documentation. Present, casual, yet in complete awe at this distant supercell.

It dropped.

That buldge evolved to a funnel touching the ground in what felt like an instant. It’s a tornado. I’m safe, about 10 miles out east. Yet I felt this bizarre weight overcome my shoulders and chest.

Leslie explained that his home was just north of the tornado, quite literally pointing to the small raised plateau on the bottom right of the photograph. It wasn’t an immediate threat, but if it continued, the chance of it being dangerously close to his property or neighbors was unfortunately formidable.

I cannot overstate the extreme, and almost comedic, dichotomy of this moment. Lovely side conversation, a beautiful landscape, a beautiful storm, a beautiful photo at that. And a force of destruction possibly changing this man’s life forever.

Chaos amongst a postcard-like beauty.

We watched this tornado rip up dust and vegetation for nearly 15 minutes. He asked where safety was and what was possibly coming. There were two cells just to our south, one starting to drop rain and small hail on our position. The ones south were young, and the tornadic cell was moving slower while diving east. I told him to drop south and head east if needed. As I certainly would, since some possible quarter size hail was a better deal compared to an intensified hail core or possible rotation that pivots south. I was not going to get greedy and play monkey in the middle with supercells, especially considering my newness in the field and lack of road options. I quickly packed up and dropped south, with Leslie following just after. Flying down the 70 to the 256, I was teeming with excitement having finally witnessed my first tornado. And somehow, in peace and safety. I got to Memphis and decided at that point to continue on home.

Fortunately, as far as I’m concerned, no property was damaged.

Stopping in Childress, I went and got a coffee at Starbucks, now suddenly sobered up to normal life considering the extremity of the previous hour. And as I’ve grown to love more and more, getting a coffee in the middle of nowhere became the most normal part of my day.

I arrived in Midlothian later that evening, letting some tears roll as I drove over my favorite overpass in Fort Worth listening to “Say Hello 2 Heaven” by Temple Of The Dog. And in the warmth of the evening with my family, I couldn’t have asked for a better welcome back to Texas for the season.

Cheers to many more, my friends.