Mark Farnik
EF5
Warning: This is an extremely long post-you've been warned...
On Wednesday evening, I came face to face with every chaser's worst nightmare: I drove INTO a rain wrapped tornado, in complete darkness, around 10:45 p.m. CDT about four miles north/northwest of Bird City, Kansas on Highway 161. The following is the account of the most harrowing night of my life thus far.
It had been a great chase day. I had already seen 5 tornadoes in less than 6 hours, one of which was a spectacular multi-vortex affair which I took video of as it passed just southeast of Benkelman, NE around 9:35 p.m CDT. Brett Adair was nowcasting for me, and everything was going smoothly until about 10:15 p.m. CDT, when my cell battery died while I sat on the south side of Benkelman plotting my next move. I don't have a car charger for my phone, and suddenly found myself without access to my sole source of information. I cursed my lack of foresight, and then made a decision that could have been my last. I have some friends that live near Saint Francis, so I decided to call it a night, drop south on Highway 161 to Bird City, and pick up Highway 36 west to Saint Francis, where a warm bed awaited me. As I left Benkelman and headed south, I was briefly able to observe a strong updraft developing on the storm I was driving into. But I was tired, focused on getting to Saint Francis and in my relative naivety thought "Hey, the worst I can run into is some large hail, right?"
Lesson #1: Never make assumptions when chasing, particularly when driving into an HP supercell at night during a tornado outbreak!
About 5 miles south of Benkelman, just inside the Kansas state line, I fell behind a Kansas State Patrolman. Less than a mile later we began encountering very heavy, blinding rain. It was coming down so hard that the two of us were literally crawling down the road at about 30 mph. Also, for those of you that don't know, Highway 161 is an extremely hilly road, crossing through over a dozen canyons and draws between Benkelman and Bird City. It's not fun to drive in perfect weather conditions; driving it in complete darkness with rain blowing sideways and water running down the road 6 inches deep is NOT an experience I care to repeat. A couple minutes after that, hail began to fall. It was small at first, but as we got about 12 miles south of Benkelman, the hail got dramatically larger and in a matter of 30 seconds went from nickel size to near baseball size. I later found out we drove straight through a 70 dbz hail core just north of the mesocyclone. One stone smashed the windshield of the KSP patrol car, vaulted up over his lightbar and smashed into the grille of the Ford F-150 I was driving and broke a chunk out of it. The sound of the hail pummeling the truck was absolutely deafening. I was scared as hell that the hail would break my windshield, but thankfully that didn't happen. As we continued our southward trek through the core, we were cresting the top of a hill when the brake lights of the KSP patrol car lit up and he suddenly swerved into the other lane. I thought 'WTF is he doing?', and then I saw it. A round bale was lying in the road about fifty yards ahead of me. I said 'Oh s***!' and slammed on the brakes. I skidded into it at 25 mph. Thankfully, the bale had been completely saturated by the rain and exploded into a cloud of mushy straw. Then I started seeing pieces of building debris lying in the road, so I slowed down to about 10 mph, and looked around me. A barn on the east side of the road had been obliterated by what I suspect was the multi-vortex tornado I had videotaped earlier that evening, and round bales were scattered everywhere like oversize confetti. One was even speared on top of a power pole like some sort of bizarre hors d'ouerve. The blinding rain made taking any photos impossible, so I decided to continue south. I caught up with the KSP patrol car a mile later, and just seconds after I caught up with him, he suddenly slammed on his brakes again as we came to a county road, flipped a wild u-turn in the intersection and screamed northwards. Again I thought 'WTF is he doing?" but like an idiot, continued driving southward.
Lesson #2: When following a police officer into a supercell at night, if he suddenly flips a U-turn and starts going the opposite direction in a big hurry, he's in all likelihood running from something that you should be running from too!
So I decided to turn on the radio and try and find a local station to get a weather update. I tuned into Hometown Radio 93.9 out of McCook. I will never forget what transpired in the next few minutes. What I heard next made my blood run cold:
"A Tornado Warning has been issued for eastern Cheyenne County in northwestern Kansas. At 10:35 p.m. CDT, law enforcement officials reported a LARGE TORNADO ON THE GROUND two miles northwest of Bird City. This tornado is moving north at 40 mph. Areas affected will include HIGHWAY 161 BETWEEN BIRD CITY AND BENKELMAN! If you are in the path of this storm, please seek shelter immediately!"
I looked at my odometer and my blood ran even colder. I was roughly nineteen miles south of Benkelman, or five miles northwest of Bird City. I WAS THREE MILES NORTH OF THE TORNADO IN IT'S DIRECT PATH! AND EVEN WORSE, IT WAS RAIN WRAPPED AND I COULDN'T SEE IT!
For a moment, I couldn't think or speak. Then I said and thought what anyone would have given the situation:
OH F**K!!!!
Then I went into a purely adrenalin driven survival mode. I began frantically scanning the sides of the road for a farmstead. I knew given my location and the speed at which the tornado was moving, I had at most 90 seconds to seek shelter before it would be right on top of me. I sped up, desperately searching through the blinding rain and hail. I spotted a farmstead immediately to my left and started making preparations to run for my life. The power poles on the side of the road began to buck back and forth, the lines arcing wildly in the ferocious wind. A section of barbed wire fence along the side of the road was plucked out of the ground as simply and cleanly as you would pluck a feather from a chicken and whirled away into the night. The pickup started to feel like it was floating. I did a wild powerslide into the driveway of the farmstead and skidded to a halt about thirty feet from the front door of the old two story farmhouse. I didn't even bother to shut off the engine, I just jumped out of the truck and narrowly missed getting crushed by the door as the wind slammed it shut. I was running as fast as I could, yet it felt like I was only doing a slow jog, the wind was pulling on me so hard. Thankfully the main door was unlocked; if it hadn't been I would have kicked it in. By then it was too late to waste time searching for the basement, so there was an old table in the kitchen, and I dove under it. I grabbed onto the legs and started to pray. By that point the whole house was shaking violently, and I could hear debris hitting the side of the house. Then the tornado hit. It sounded like a squealing pig, a screaming wildcat, Niagra Falls and a vaccum cleaner all blended together into one terrible cacophony. Upstairs I heard the shattering of glass, and as I huddled there under that table in the kitchen of that Kansas farmhouse, I prayed harder than I've ever prayed in my life. I prayed that if it was my time, that I would go willingly, but if it wasn't, that the good Lord would protect me from harm. My prayers were answered, as the house gradually stopped shaking and the sound of the vortex gradually got quieter and quieter until it finally died away and all that could be heard was the sound of rain lashing against the siding. I slowly crawled out from under the table and stood up. I went back outside into the pouring rain. A piece of tin roofing from one of the outbuildings was plastered to the right front fender and right part of the hood of my truck, the rear end of which had also been shifted about six inches to the left of where I had parked it. I ran back to the truck and peeled the tin off, which promptly blew away in a gust of wind as soon as I had removed it. I ran around to the drivers side of the truck and got in. For a few minutes I just sat there, shivering and shaking uncontrollably, utterly amazed that I hadn't been blown to Oz. I was soaked to the bone, I was frightened out of my wits, but I was alive.
I arrived at my friend's house just before midnight and as soon as I had changed into some dry clothes, I crawled into their guest bed and fell into a deep and strangely dreamless sleep.
I know without a doubt that the man upstairs was looking out for me that night. I learned some very, very important lessons from this experience. If I was 18, the first thing I would've done upon returning to Colorado would have been the purchase of a scratch lotto ticket.
Am I feeling really stupid? Definitely. Am I feeling lucky? You bet your damn life I am. Will I keep chasing after this harrowing experience? HELL YEAH!
I will chase until one of the following happens:
-I become senile or blind
- I can't drive any more due to old age
-I get sucked into a mile wide monster EF5 (But what a way to go!)
- I go to stormchaser heaven, where the dewpoint never drops below 60 degrees, the air temperature never rises above 80 degrees, the land is flat as a cookie sheet, the road network is excellent, and each afternoon supercells form along an omnipresent dryline and drop spectacular tornadoes until after sunset...
So there you have it: How I almost went to Oz, or how NOT to intercept a tornado.
You might find yourself wondering "Is it all true?" The answer to that is yes, ladies and gentleman. I pride myself on being an honest person.
This is my account of the events of that night to the best of my recollection.
Which just goes to show, sometimes truth really CAN be stranger than fiction...
On Wednesday evening, I came face to face with every chaser's worst nightmare: I drove INTO a rain wrapped tornado, in complete darkness, around 10:45 p.m. CDT about four miles north/northwest of Bird City, Kansas on Highway 161. The following is the account of the most harrowing night of my life thus far.
It had been a great chase day. I had already seen 5 tornadoes in less than 6 hours, one of which was a spectacular multi-vortex affair which I took video of as it passed just southeast of Benkelman, NE around 9:35 p.m CDT. Brett Adair was nowcasting for me, and everything was going smoothly until about 10:15 p.m. CDT, when my cell battery died while I sat on the south side of Benkelman plotting my next move. I don't have a car charger for my phone, and suddenly found myself without access to my sole source of information. I cursed my lack of foresight, and then made a decision that could have been my last. I have some friends that live near Saint Francis, so I decided to call it a night, drop south on Highway 161 to Bird City, and pick up Highway 36 west to Saint Francis, where a warm bed awaited me. As I left Benkelman and headed south, I was briefly able to observe a strong updraft developing on the storm I was driving into. But I was tired, focused on getting to Saint Francis and in my relative naivety thought "Hey, the worst I can run into is some large hail, right?"
Lesson #1: Never make assumptions when chasing, particularly when driving into an HP supercell at night during a tornado outbreak!
About 5 miles south of Benkelman, just inside the Kansas state line, I fell behind a Kansas State Patrolman. Less than a mile later we began encountering very heavy, blinding rain. It was coming down so hard that the two of us were literally crawling down the road at about 30 mph. Also, for those of you that don't know, Highway 161 is an extremely hilly road, crossing through over a dozen canyons and draws between Benkelman and Bird City. It's not fun to drive in perfect weather conditions; driving it in complete darkness with rain blowing sideways and water running down the road 6 inches deep is NOT an experience I care to repeat. A couple minutes after that, hail began to fall. It was small at first, but as we got about 12 miles south of Benkelman, the hail got dramatically larger and in a matter of 30 seconds went from nickel size to near baseball size. I later found out we drove straight through a 70 dbz hail core just north of the mesocyclone. One stone smashed the windshield of the KSP patrol car, vaulted up over his lightbar and smashed into the grille of the Ford F-150 I was driving and broke a chunk out of it. The sound of the hail pummeling the truck was absolutely deafening. I was scared as hell that the hail would break my windshield, but thankfully that didn't happen. As we continued our southward trek through the core, we were cresting the top of a hill when the brake lights of the KSP patrol car lit up and he suddenly swerved into the other lane. I thought 'WTF is he doing?', and then I saw it. A round bale was lying in the road about fifty yards ahead of me. I said 'Oh s***!' and slammed on the brakes. I skidded into it at 25 mph. Thankfully, the bale had been completely saturated by the rain and exploded into a cloud of mushy straw. Then I started seeing pieces of building debris lying in the road, so I slowed down to about 10 mph, and looked around me. A barn on the east side of the road had been obliterated by what I suspect was the multi-vortex tornado I had videotaped earlier that evening, and round bales were scattered everywhere like oversize confetti. One was even speared on top of a power pole like some sort of bizarre hors d'ouerve. The blinding rain made taking any photos impossible, so I decided to continue south. I caught up with the KSP patrol car a mile later, and just seconds after I caught up with him, he suddenly slammed on his brakes again as we came to a county road, flipped a wild u-turn in the intersection and screamed northwards. Again I thought 'WTF is he doing?" but like an idiot, continued driving southward.
Lesson #2: When following a police officer into a supercell at night, if he suddenly flips a U-turn and starts going the opposite direction in a big hurry, he's in all likelihood running from something that you should be running from too!
So I decided to turn on the radio and try and find a local station to get a weather update. I tuned into Hometown Radio 93.9 out of McCook. I will never forget what transpired in the next few minutes. What I heard next made my blood run cold:
"A Tornado Warning has been issued for eastern Cheyenne County in northwestern Kansas. At 10:35 p.m. CDT, law enforcement officials reported a LARGE TORNADO ON THE GROUND two miles northwest of Bird City. This tornado is moving north at 40 mph. Areas affected will include HIGHWAY 161 BETWEEN BIRD CITY AND BENKELMAN! If you are in the path of this storm, please seek shelter immediately!"
I looked at my odometer and my blood ran even colder. I was roughly nineteen miles south of Benkelman, or five miles northwest of Bird City. I WAS THREE MILES NORTH OF THE TORNADO IN IT'S DIRECT PATH! AND EVEN WORSE, IT WAS RAIN WRAPPED AND I COULDN'T SEE IT!
For a moment, I couldn't think or speak. Then I said and thought what anyone would have given the situation:
OH F**K!!!!
Then I went into a purely adrenalin driven survival mode. I began frantically scanning the sides of the road for a farmstead. I knew given my location and the speed at which the tornado was moving, I had at most 90 seconds to seek shelter before it would be right on top of me. I sped up, desperately searching through the blinding rain and hail. I spotted a farmstead immediately to my left and started making preparations to run for my life. The power poles on the side of the road began to buck back and forth, the lines arcing wildly in the ferocious wind. A section of barbed wire fence along the side of the road was plucked out of the ground as simply and cleanly as you would pluck a feather from a chicken and whirled away into the night. The pickup started to feel like it was floating. I did a wild powerslide into the driveway of the farmstead and skidded to a halt about thirty feet from the front door of the old two story farmhouse. I didn't even bother to shut off the engine, I just jumped out of the truck and narrowly missed getting crushed by the door as the wind slammed it shut. I was running as fast as I could, yet it felt like I was only doing a slow jog, the wind was pulling on me so hard. Thankfully the main door was unlocked; if it hadn't been I would have kicked it in. By then it was too late to waste time searching for the basement, so there was an old table in the kitchen, and I dove under it. I grabbed onto the legs and started to pray. By that point the whole house was shaking violently, and I could hear debris hitting the side of the house. Then the tornado hit. It sounded like a squealing pig, a screaming wildcat, Niagra Falls and a vaccum cleaner all blended together into one terrible cacophony. Upstairs I heard the shattering of glass, and as I huddled there under that table in the kitchen of that Kansas farmhouse, I prayed harder than I've ever prayed in my life. I prayed that if it was my time, that I would go willingly, but if it wasn't, that the good Lord would protect me from harm. My prayers were answered, as the house gradually stopped shaking and the sound of the vortex gradually got quieter and quieter until it finally died away and all that could be heard was the sound of rain lashing against the siding. I slowly crawled out from under the table and stood up. I went back outside into the pouring rain. A piece of tin roofing from one of the outbuildings was plastered to the right front fender and right part of the hood of my truck, the rear end of which had also been shifted about six inches to the left of where I had parked it. I ran back to the truck and peeled the tin off, which promptly blew away in a gust of wind as soon as I had removed it. I ran around to the drivers side of the truck and got in. For a few minutes I just sat there, shivering and shaking uncontrollably, utterly amazed that I hadn't been blown to Oz. I was soaked to the bone, I was frightened out of my wits, but I was alive.
I arrived at my friend's house just before midnight and as soon as I had changed into some dry clothes, I crawled into their guest bed and fell into a deep and strangely dreamless sleep.
I know without a doubt that the man upstairs was looking out for me that night. I learned some very, very important lessons from this experience. If I was 18, the first thing I would've done upon returning to Colorado would have been the purchase of a scratch lotto ticket.
Am I feeling really stupid? Definitely. Am I feeling lucky? You bet your damn life I am. Will I keep chasing after this harrowing experience? HELL YEAH!
I will chase until one of the following happens:-I become senile or blind
- I can't drive any more due to old age
-I get sucked into a mile wide monster EF5 (But what a way to go!)
- I go to stormchaser heaven, where the dewpoint never drops below 60 degrees, the air temperature never rises above 80 degrees, the land is flat as a cookie sheet, the road network is excellent, and each afternoon supercells form along an omnipresent dryline and drop spectacular tornadoes until after sunset...
So there you have it: How I almost went to Oz, or how NOT to intercept a tornado.
You might find yourself wondering "Is it all true?" The answer to that is yes, ladies and gentleman. I pride myself on being an honest person.
This is my account of the events of that night to the best of my recollection.
Which just goes to show, sometimes truth really CAN be stranger than fiction...
. I remember chasing a severe storm with large hail at night over here in southern Germany a few years ago. I too hadn´t any data and was trying to get to a spot where I could observe the updraft while being able to seek shelter under a gas station roof should there be large hail. Fortunately, the biggest stones only reached about 3 cm and damage to my car was minimal. The storm had a meso for quite some time but it seemed to be rather elevated. Hail and some flooding were issues but I knew that the tornado threat was very small and that´s why I decided to chase this storm even in the dark. But your situation was definitely very different, wow.
