Editor’s note: Apparently I can’t tell the “Publish” button from the “save draft” button. Sorry.
I slept until about noon on Saturday (I’m still not sleeping well after returning from vacation) and woke up to a phone call from a local friend who clearly is insane.
“Are you watching the weather?” he said.
“No, why?” I said, already reaching for my phone.
The answer was on the screen. Tornado watch. Supercell storms. Destruction. Mayhem.
GLORIOUS.
“Picking you up in 10 minutes.”
Storm spotting has a good rule. Don’t go alone. One person drives, one person watches. That tends to keep you from, oh, you know, DYING.
So I picked John up and immediately began heading southwest out of town. About halfway to the nearest major town in the next county, Calhoun, Ky., we made a right turn onto a smaller road and found a good, tall hilltop. I figured I’d get a picture or two of the storm, right?
Right, guys?
We looked south after stopping and I broke out the camera. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything really picturesque about this storm. But there was something weird about this storm. Part of it was moving north, part was moving east and it was stretching out in a long, graceful arc.
And then the lightbulb went off in my head.
“We need to go,” I said to John. “Now.”
“Really? Why?”
I’d seen this plenty of times on a radar, but never in real life. If you’ve ever seen a bow echo in real life, you might know that you don’t want to be either north or east of it if that’s the direction it’s going. And we were north and east of it.
So we got back in the car and drove fast to the south. The goal was to drive through the worst of the storm before it could become a tornado. Which we did. We made it into Calhoun just as their tornado sirens went off.
There’s really no describing the look on the face of the Calhoun Police Department officer as we pulled into the convenience store next to him. It was a bit of a startled, “What the…?” glance for the lookey-loos who just rolled in.
Not content to sit still, I decided to drive a little farther south before turning around so we could follow the storm from the safe side.
Big. Mistake.
About five seconds after we pulled out, quarter-sized hail began falling. Inch-diameter hail is truly impressive when it starts smacking into your windshield, by the way.
Meanwhile, John is beside me FREAKING OUT. He hasn’t been through spotter training (he’s just interested) and has no idea if we are in a bad place or a good place. He calmed down once I told him we were in no real danger and we got ourselves turned around.
We then followed the storm across three counties, letting it go when it crossed the Ohio River into Indiana.
Reports came in as we were driving. That spot we were standing at, looking south when I decided we needed to get out of Dodge? Yeah, a funnel formed right over it. A second funnel joined it and they actually touched down along the route we’d taken to get to where we started spotting.
So it wasn’t really all that dangerous. Just a little. Maybe.More storms coming tonight, by the way. If anything good happens, you’ll know soon enough.
p.s. – Listening to the Twister soundtrack while looking for tornadoes brings about feelings of unbelievable awesomeness. Seriously.
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