Thursday, May 24, 2012

Status Status!

 Believe it or not, it’s actually been a rather busy week for CSWR. Since the last post, the armada has gone from Kansas to South Dakota to North Dakota to South Dakota to Iowa and Nebraska. Given that two of these three days have been active mission days, mornings have been rather early, sleep has been rather limited, and breakfast has been rather elusive. A chase in North Dakota yielded little other than some views of a picturesque landscape and the sighting of a single, weak, brief tornado. After cutting our loses there, we headed down to Nebraska, where the chase provided us with some weak gustnadoes and some ominous looking scud (stratocumulus under deck) clouds. Our DOWs and mesonets were able to collect some data on the storms we did see, but the perfect storm with the perfect tornado still remains to be seen.

Sccccccccccccccud!

Since, however, it would be gloomy and depressing to leave this blog post on that note, I figured now would be the perfect time to explain a little bit about how we, as chasers and research meteorologists, live while we’re out here on these field projects. (Apologies if I've made a post like this before... it was late and I was exhausted...)

Being on a project like VORTEX or ROTATE is certainly a unique experience. A CSWR field scientist essentially spends their time on a project living out of a truck and a suitcase. The typical day involves getting up early enough to be packed (hopefully showered and fed) and ready to leave by 7-10am Central Daylight Time. It doesn’t matter if the town we happen to be staying in at that moment is on Mountain Time; since tornado alley is mostly in the Central Time Zone, all of our operations simply take place going by central time (even though all of our observations are recorded in UTC).

After packing up all of our things and our vehicles, the armada typically leaves and heads to or towards some pre-determined target that was identified either that morning or the night before based upon observations and where the weather models are indicating that conditions might be ripe for severe weather. On some days, this initial target can be sixty or seventy miles away. On others, this initial target can be upwards of three hundred miles away. It is therefore definitely not unusual for drivers and passengers to start losing feeling in their legs and/or rear end while the day is progressing. The only stops typically permitted are those stops for which the expressed purpose is to use the facilities, get gas, or pick up food. More stopping? Hah! Forget it!

If we’re quite lucky, the initial target area will be somewhere where individuals have the opportunity to grab and eat lunch. More often than not, these opportunities only arise in areas where the food options are largely limited to Subway and Subway. The day’s initial target area is generally in a location where the lead scientists and forecasters on the project can analyze the information they have available to them and leave rather quickly and easily to another target area somewhere (relatively) close by. Some days this next target area can be five to ten miles away. Some days it’s more like one or two hundred. And some days the next target area is in the same city as the previous night’s hotel. Now that usually stings.

Eventually, after this hurry up and wait process has taken place several times, convection may spring up and we may have a chance to actually chase a storm. At this point, a new sort of hurry up and wait process begins. The armada hurries to the location or in the path of a possible “area of interest,” and waits whilst the DOWs (or at least DOW7!) run scans and evaluate the situation. If things look good, we’ll stay on a storm and hopefully deploy more instruments. If things look bad, we’ll either abandon the storm and search for another, or reposition ourselves to keep ahead of an “area of interest” that just may need more time evolving. If things look really bad, we’ll skip wasting our resources and risking hail damage to retreat to the evening’s lodging, which, if we’re lucky, will be lined up before we stop the chase (we almost never actually know where we’ll be staying on any given night; hotel information isn’t obtained or revealed to us until at least the late afternoon hours).

If a scientist’s vehicle has managed to make it through the day functioning, then that vehicle will drive that scientist to the evening’s hotel, which may be thirty minutes away, or upwards of four hours away.

The next morning starts a similar day. Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

Off to Kansas/Missouri now….

 

We're going crazy. CRAZY!

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