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The storm developing in the distance is an absolute beauty. Towering cumulus congestus bubbles ever upward into the atmosphere in cauliflower-like arrangements, each more explosive than the last. Gem stands beside the Doppler on Wheels, hardly able to take her eyes off of it despite the ever-growing winds at her back. So enthralled by the evidence of a volatile environment, she almost misses the sound of a pickup pulling up behind her and the DOW on the side of the highway. It is only the car door slamming that draws her attention from the storm to the new arrival. She recognizes the vehicle first – a mobile mesonet site fit with measuring instruments all across the hood. Less recognizable is the man who is walking towards her.
“Can’t believe they insisted I work with a Sooner for this,” he says, shaking his head. “You’ve got some great meteorology there, sure, but I just can’t agree with your football.”
Gem can’t help but spit a laugh out at that. “As if we haven’t beaten the Cornhuskers at every one of the last ten meetings,” she says, shaking her head. She offers a hand to the man. “Gem Taylor, post-doc at OU School of Meteorology.”
“Joel Lisban, grad student at Nebraska-Lincoln,” he says, shaking Gem’s hand. He looks to the clouds gathering on the horizon, then to the rapidly moving traffic on the highway. “Figured I’d stop by given the DOW here on the shoulder, but I believe we had a meeting spot in town?”
The hotel. Gem tilts her head back in exasperation. Of course she’d forgotten something in her haste to prepare everything this morning. “Yes, at the Hartfield Inn. I was heading back after getting some gas and–”
Joel laughs. “Don’t blame you a bit. That storm is a beauty. Though I figure we ought to hit the road soon, if you want to get any near-storm environment soundings.”
“Meet you at the hotel?” Gem asks. When Joel nods, she takes one last look at the storm before hoping into the DOW. This is going to be it, she swears to herself. If she can capture this storm, she’ll have the last data she needs to finish her post-doc work on the Tornadogenesis Experiment, or TorGenEx.
By the time Gem gets to the hotel, Joel is at the back of his truck, digging through the storage area. She parks and hops out, joining him at the trunk just as he triumphantly pulls out a pamphlet. He unfolds it, revealing a map of Kansas. “Always like to have a map where I’m chasing,” he says, turning to Gem. “Anyways, where were you hoping to target?”
“That is a great question,” Gem says. “We’re already seeing convection to the southwest, but the early models had to our south having the best environment.” She looks at her watch, glad to see that it is almost ten past the hour. “As of now, the latest METARs should be available on the mesoanalysis sites. I wonder–” She doesn’t finish the thought, instead hopping back into the DOW. As she settles in front of one of the many monitors, Joel squeezes in behind her.
“Oh, look at that!” Gem points to the map. There, in central Kansas, the dryline is as clear as day: dewpoints dropping from the high 60s to the 40s as the temperatures stay around the mid-70s Fahrenheit. Further behind it is the cold front, but what Gem cares about most of all is the warm front. She finds it just to the northeast of the dryline along northern Kansas. “The warm front seems to be edging a bit further north than the models showed,” she says, tracing out where it had previously cut through.
Joel points out some of the stations to their southeast. “Those look to have the best backing winds in the warm sector,” he says. “As you go further west, the shear decreases.”
“But then we have the dryline,” Gem says. “I’d guess the storms already developing are closest to the low, so I’m not sure how long they’ll be able to sustain themselves.”
“True,” Joel says. He’s quiet for a moment as he studies the map. Gem clicks through various parameters, taking note of those that are most favorable for tornado development. “Wait, what was the CIN on that?”
Gem clicks back one map to a map of CAPE and convective inhibition. There’s still a good deal of CIN in far northeastern Kansas, where a thick deck of stratus is along the warm front, but there’s practically none across the rest of Kansas. “Storms could pop anywhere,” Joel says.
“I’m still thinking south of the ones that are already going,” Gem says. She points to an area of central Kansas around Great Bend. “If we go here, we’ve got pretty good backing before the dryline comes through, plus we should be far enough south that we don’t get any impacts from anvil spreading.”
Joel considers it. “I’d rather push a bit northwest of that, maybe near Hays?” he says. “There’s a better CAPE gradient there that storms could run along.”
Gem frowns. She traces her finger along the CAPE gradient as she thinks before pushing back. “I don’t know, the shear isn’t as good there.”
“I guess? I’d still think you’d at least get storms there.”
This pushing is strange. Gem doesn’t like it. She’s done several field campaigns since her first year of college, many including chasing in the field. Never before has she faced pushback like this. She squints at Joel, trying to decipher why he is pushing, but she has known him for less than an hour. “Let’s aim for Great Bend and see where the convection sets up. If it’s to the northwest, we can head that way then, okay?”
“I guess,” Joel says, though he still doesn’t sound convinced. He looks around the cabin of the DOW. “So, do you have radios, or how are we keeping in contact?”
“There should be a radio in the front seat, if you want to turn it on and take it with you,” Gem says. “Follow me and we’ll see where we end up.”
To Gem’s surprise, the drive to Great Bend is anything but quiet. It seems like every two minutes Joel has another question. Some are simple, like what got her into meteorology; others are stranger. Perhaps the oddest question he asks is whether she prefers the Fast and Furious or Cars franchises. Gem doesn’t have a good answer for that – why should she? – so she counters with an offer.
“Truth or dare?” she says into the radio. Moments later, when a ‘truth’ comes through, she smiles. “Do you ever shut up?”
“That’s not the point of truth or dare,” Joel groans. “You’re supposed to–”
“You said truth,” Gem teases. “So, do you?” The silence on the radio in return is enough to make Gem laugh. “Fine, truth or dare?”
Silence again for a moment. “Dare.”
Gem tilts her head, trying to think of a dare. Ahead of her on the highway, a nice cumulus field is gathering. “How about, I dare you to tell all of your friends that the Sooners are better than the Cornhuskers.”
“That is evil,” Joel says. Gem tries to imagine the horror that is on his face, but every time she does, she can’t help but laugh. “How dare you.”
“You said I wasn’t doing it right,” she laughs. “Say, I think we’re getting close with that cumulus field setting up. How about we take the next exit and do some country roads?”
“Fine by me.”
As the next exit comes up, Gem turns off the highway. A few more turns and she’s headed east. At least Kansas has a grid pattern for their roads, unlike the few times she’d been chasing in Missouri. If there’s anywhere she would love to never chase again, it’s Missouri. That one time she nearly ended up trapped between a tornado and the hail core because she couldn’t see the rotation between the trees, hills, and winding roads was enough to turn her off of Missouri for a lifetime.
After half an hour, they are well and truly in the middle of nowhere. A nice cluster of towering cumulus nearby casts a faint shadow, though even the slightly cooler temperatures beneath it are enough to quell the humid heat as Gem climbs out of the DOW. Joel pulls up behind her, hopping out moments later to meet up. They both eye the gathering clouds in suspicion.
“Balloon time?” Joel asks.
“I think so,” Gem says. “We’ll probably have convective initiation within the half hour.”
As Joel sets to pulling out a tank of helium and preparing the balloon, he talks Gem through how to initialize the radiosonde on the truck’s computer. It’s a bit tedious, given that she hasn’t done this in some time nor with this software, but after a bit they have a fully inflated balloon and a radiosonde ready to go. Joel ties it off before launching it and the two watch as it floats higher and higher until it is enveloped by the gathering inflow clouds.
Gem immediately checks the computer for the sounding, letting out a gasp as she sees the initial sounding. “Look at all that CAPE and shear in the lowest 3 kilometers!”
Joel looks over her shoulder, letting out an impressed huff. “That is quite the environment,” he admits. He glances towards the DOW and the braces. “Think you want to sit here and start scanning, or–?” He trails off as his eyes widen.
Gem turns, following his gaze. There, in the distance, a towering cumulus even taller and puffier than the others, is exploding upwards with extraordinary speed. They both watch it as it ripples and bubbles ever upward until the top hits the equilibrium level and an anvil begins to spread along the atmosphere. “We’re staying here,” Gem says, confidence unwavering. “That is going to be our storm.”
Once the decision to stay is made, the preparations jump into full gear. Gem anchors the DOW in place with the bracers on each side. Joel is doing something with the mesonet truck – perhaps setting the data logs to record the observations? – before returning to help with bracing the last support. Then, Gem hops into the cabin to get the DOW started.
As the first scan comes in, Gem smiles. Already the reflectivity is showing an echo where that storm was developing, though it is still rather disorganized at this distance. Joel knocks on the door, opening it moments later.
“Getting one more balloon ready to go,” he says, glancing to the storm. “Wind’s have certainly picked up out here, plus we’re starting to see some inflow condensing here. I’ll hold off releasing as long as I can.”
“Thanks,” Gem says. She checks that the radar is set to the proper levels and then hops out, joining Joel at the back of the mesonet truck. As he fills the balloon, she looks around. The once clear blue sky is now littered with several layers of clouds: low level cumulus, a few cumulonimbus towers, and some cirrus anvils spreading at the very top of the atmosphere. But despite the increasing cloud cover, the atmospheric energy is still palpable. The wind has picked up, bringing with it warm, moist air that is flowing directly into the growing storm.
In fact, as Gem looks to the southwest where that storm is, she can now clearly see the rainshaft below it. It is absolutely pouring over there, and she can’t help but wonder if it’s potentially producing some hail. A distant peal of thunder, followed by a strike, confirms that if it isn’t, it likely will reach that soon as it continues to strengthen.
“Joel, lightning is probably 20 miles out at best,” she says. “15 miles is when we can’t release any more, right?”
“Yep,” Joel says, his face grim as he ties a knot from the radiosonde to the balloon and parachute. “Need just a minute or two more and we’ll be all set.”
Time doesn’t seem to crawl any slower as he prepares the rest of the balloon. Every second the storm grows closer and stronger. More and more lightning develops until there is practically one continuous peal of thunder echoing across the plains. A particularly close strike, maybe 16 miles, has Gem wanting to climb into the DOW, but she waits until the balloon is up. Then, she and Joel climb into the DOW.
The first thing that catches Gem's eye is not the high reflectivity on the screen, as she would expect, but the clearly defined hook echo on the south side of the storm. Joel whistles when he sees it.
“Look at that beauty!” he says. “How’s the meso rotation looking?”
Gem switches to the velocity, eliciting a gasp from both of them as a strong couplet in the location of the hook appears. “Really good,” Gem says. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if this thing drops a tornado in the next few minutes.”
Just as she says that, their phones begin to blare with an alert. “Tornado warning,” Joel confirms. “Good, considering what we’re seeing. In fact, that’s the meso there, isn’t it?”
He points out the windshield towards the nearing storm. The cloud base is much lower now and smoother, but what is most pressing is the clear rotation of the clouds as they move to the east-northeast. Gem’s jaw drops; this is perhaps the cleanest mesocyclone and wall cloud she’s seen in the entirety of chases for this project. She snaps a picture before checking the incoming scan.
“It’s maintaining,” she says after checking the velocity. “Any signs of a funnel?”
Joel hums. “There’s something going on under the base. Got any lowest level scans soon?”
“Yeah, I can force a few.” Gem navigates to the radar control panel, queuing the three lowest levels to scan twice before doing a full height scan once more. Then she checks back, oohing as a velocity scan reveals an intensifying couplet on the 1.5 degree scan. At the same time, Joel gasps.
“We’ve got a funnel!”
Gem clambers from the radar control to the truck’s cabin, where Joel is sat with his phone aimed at the storm. Sure enough, a broad funnel is lowering from the base of the wall cloud. The wall cloud itself seems to be rotating faster as well now, with a clearing along the back flank.
“RFD action there,” Gem says. “That’s going to be so cool to look back on in the data.”
A faint cloud of dust arcs up, though the funnel is still only halfway to the ground. “We’ve got a tornado!” Joel shouts.
Gem smiles. This is it; she’s got the last tornado, and by gosh, is it a beauty. As the debris cloud traces over a barren field several miles away, the funnel lowers, completing a well-defined cone. It traces across several other fields for a few miles before the funnel begins to obscure behind the rain. Then, Gem turns back to the radar, watching as it continues until the circulation weakens.
“That might be the best data I’ve gotten,” she says as she clicks through the scans. “I mean, look at that couplet! You can clearly see it lower down through the meso right before the tornado touched down.”
“And,” Joel adds, sliding into the seat next to her, “you’ve got not one, but two atmospheric profiles from just before it intensified. And the mesonet, too, but–”
“Thank you,” Gem says. She means it, truly, but at the same time, she wants to push Joel’s buttons a bit. “I mean, normally I would never thank a Cornhusker, but I really needed this data.”
Joel rolls his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters, but despite his supposed aggravation, he can’t keep a small smile from peaking through.
Gem grins. “And,” she adds, “don’t forget about earlier. You did agree to a dare.”
Joel groans. “You’re really holding me to that?”
“Of course! You can tell me all about it when you send me the data.”
“Great,” Joel says. He looks out the windshield to where the backend of the storm is still visible. Gem follows his gaze in silence, unable to explain the strange feeling bubbling inside. She’s done it; she’s gotten all of the data she needs, and yet, she can’t help the longing for another storm.
“Hey, what do you think if we follow this for a bit, off the clock?” she suggests. “Get out in the field one last time, if you know what I mean?”
“I mean,” Joel looks around. “You’re the PI, aren’t you?”
She is, Gem realizes. She can do whatever she wants, within reason, and a little bit of chasing wouldn’t hurt. “Then let’s go!”
And as they follow the storm to the east, Gem can’t help but laugh. She’s finally done it, and while she’s only known Joel for a day, this is the type of day that creates lifetime friendships.
Weeks later, Gem is in her office, sifting through data from all but the latest storm when an email arrives in her inbox. She smiles at the first line:
Hey Gem, here’s the data from the chase back in May. Fun fact: when you turn your back on the Cornhuskers for a dare, your roommates will prank you by painting you to look like a Sooner in your sleep.
She laughs, immediately opening the attached photo. Sure enough, there is a selfie of Joel, his face and body covered in burgundy and white paint. Even his clothes, or what Gem assumes are his pajamas, have been switched to support the Sooners. She quickly writes back an email, then files the data into her data folders.
At last, she has everything she needs. And while she will miss the feeling of being out in the field, Gem is very excited to dig into the data. This is what she’s been working towards for nearly two years. She has photos of each of the storms and the teams she’d been out with, but still none compare to that day when she and Joel were in the field. Even if they technically are rivals, she’s glad that she’s found a friend in him.