Chicken Soup for the Solo

The meds that the doc prescribed for me seem to finally be working their mojo. I’m still coughing, but it’s no longer a painful cough, and yesterday’s feverishness has passed. Today I went out and bought a bunch of Amish chicken and a whole passel of assorted veggies and rice, and I made up a huge potful of chicken soup. I’ve heard more than one person tell me that the old wive’s tale is true: homemade chicken soup has a wholesome, curative property. I believe it. People breathing their last gasp have been known to revive at a mere whiff of my chicken soup.

Anyway, it’s been a week since I’ve played my horn, and in the interrim, I’ve felt so lousy that I haven’t even thought about it. As for storm chasing, ha. Good thing I didn’t go down to Tornado Alley last weekend with Bill and Tom–not only would I have been miserable, but by now they would be, too.

Storms have been lighting up the Plains pretty much all week. My friend Kurt Hulst was out in Oklahoma yesterday with his pal Nick, and he posted some nice pics on his blog. I’m assuming he caught the supercells in northern Texas earlier today as well. Can’t wait to see those photos.

Of course, I’ve been out of the action. Out of practice on my sax, out of the picture for chasing storms. In another couple of days, though, I should be ready to rumble. I just hope the weather feels the same way. My head is finally back on my shoulders only barely enough that I might start giving a rip about the forecast models, and maybe even be able to make some sense out of them again.

Enough for now. Tornadoes can wait. Right now, a bowlful of chicken soup is calling my name. If I eat enough, I might find myself in good enough shape by tomorrow to blow a few notes on my saxophone. Chicken soup for the solo. I like that idea.

The Tornado Fest That Wasn’t

Now that Sunday’s brouhaha in Tornado Alley is over and done, the big question seems to be, where were all the tornadoes? The turnout was there, the fans were waiting, but besides the rope and the wedge/multivortex/stovepipe that my buddies Bill and Tom witnessed near Crawford, Oklahoma, in company with a multitude of other chasers, there just wasn’t anything to make postcards out of. The big show never showed. Even the lone supercell that wandered north out of Texas into Oklahoma’s higher helicities never produced, despite its lack of competition. Oh, there were a couple of twisters in Kansas, and with a tally of four, Iowa had the most reports of all. Ironically,  it wasn’t even in the PDS high risk area.

This is by no means to criticize the crew at the SPC; those are some highly adept meteorological minds, the finest in the world. No, it’s just to muse at the vagaries of the weather. Rudimentary as my own forecasting skills are, I’ve nevertheless come to realize that no matter how good a forecaster one becomes, the weather is still the weather. Capricious. Subject to subtleties that no one gives weight to until after the fact. The butterfly beats its wings and a tornado fires up in Texas–or a seemingly volatile setup falls apart.

Judging from the YouTube videos and the photos posted on Stormtrack, a lot of people managed to be in the right place at the right time for the one storm in Oklahoma that did produce a couple very photogenic tornadoes. But the event was a far cry from high-risk mayhem.

Guess I can’t feel bad about that, since I was sitting at home nursing a chest cold while my mates were out there roaming the Plains. The cold now seems finally poised to start breaking up, and hopefully in another day or two I’ll feel halfway human again. It’s just as well that I get this nonsense out of the way now, so I’m up to snuff physically in a couple weeks when my buds and I head out to the Alley for an extended tour. I hope that by then, there won’t be any lack of the right ingredients in the atmospheric brew to make the trip worthwhile.

Convective Inhibition: SBCINH vs MLCINH

Some months back, I wrote a review of F5 Data, a powerful weather forecasting tool that aggregates a remarkably exhaustive array of atmospheric data–including over 160 different maps and a number of proprietary indices–for both professional and non-professional use. Designed by storm chaser and meteorologist Andrew Revering, F5 Data truly is a Swiss Army Knife for storm chasers, and thanks to Andy’s dedication to his product, it just keeps getting better and better.

My own effectiveness in using this potent tool continues to grow in tandem with my development as an amateur forecaster. Today I encountered a phenomenon that has puzzled me before, and this time I decided to ask Andy about it on his Convective Development forum. His insights were so helpful that, with his permission, I thought I’d share the thread with those of you who are fellow storm chasers. If you, like me, have struggled with the whole issue of CINH and of figuring out whether and where capping is likely to be a problem, then I hope you’ll find this material as informative as I did.

With that little introduction, here is the thread from Andy’s forum, beginning with…

My Question

SBCINH vs MLCINH

I’m looking at the latest GFS run (6Z) for Saturday at 21Z and see a number of parameters suggesting a hot spot around and west of Topeka. But when I factor in convective inhibition, I get either a highly capped environment or an uncapped environment depending on whether I go by MLCINH or SBCINH. I note that the model sounding for that hour and for 0Z shows minimal capping, which seems to favor the surface-based parameter.

From what I’ve seen, SBCINH often paints a much more conservative picture of inhibition, while MLCINH will show major capping in the same general area. How can I get the best use out of these two options when they often paint a very different picture?

Andy’s Answer

This is a great question, and very well worded… I guess I should expect that from a wordsmith!

SB *anything* is calculated using a surface-based parcel. ML *anything* is calculated using a mixed layer parcel. It is done by mixing the lowest 100mb temperature and lowest 100mb dew points and using those values as if those values were the surface conditions, and then raising from those values.

This is why when you look at a sounding it looks to favor the SB CIN because the parcel trace on those soundings is always raised from the surface. If you were to ‘average’ or mix the lowest 100mb temperatures by simply finding the section of the temperature line that is 100mb thick at the bottom of the sounding, and find the middle of that line (average value) and see what that temperature is, and then go to the surface and find where that temperature would be on the sounding at the surface, and raise the parcel from there (after doing the same thing with the dewpoint temperature) then you will have the ML Parcel trace and would then have MLCIN and MLCAPE to look at in the sounding.

A drastic difference in capping from SBCIN to MLCIN indicates that there is a drastic difference in values just above the surface that are causing this inconsistency. So when the parcel is mixed it washes out the uncapped air you get from the surface value.

We have different ways of looking at these values with different parcel traces because quite frankly, we never know where this parcel is going to be raised from. The same idea is why we have Lifted Index and Showalter Index. ITs the same index, but Showalter uses the values at 850mb and pretends thats the surface, while Lifted Index uses the surface as the surface.

We just never know where the parcel is going to raise from.

It seems to be consensus that ML-anything is typically the favored parcel trace. This means smaller CAPE and bigger CIN usually.

I have stuck strictly to my APRWX CAP index for years now because it considers both of these, as well as the temperature at 850mb, 700mb, and temperatures at heights from the surface up to 3000m, cap strength/lid strength index, as well as some other things when looking at capping. It seems to perform very well.

To summarize though… capping is a bear. If anything is out of line, you’ll easily get capped. So what I do is look at every capping parameter I can, and if *anything* is suggesting it being capped, then plan for it to be capped during that time period.

Now to confuse the situation even more, keep in mind that capping only means that you won’t get a storm to take in parcels from the suggested parcel trace location… IE.. from the surface. You can be well capped and have elevated storms above the cap. However for them to be severe you tend to need ‘other’ parameters in place, such as very moist air at 850mb (say 12c dew), some strong winds at that level, etc. to feed the storm.

Another map that is neat to look at for capping is the LFC-LCL depth. You may be capped, but want to be in position where the cap is ‘weakest’ and may have the best chances at breaking… with this map you get into your area of interest and then look at this map and find where the LFC-LCL depth is ‘smallest’.

For a capped severe situation, this usually means high values with a donut hole of smaller values in the middle. This is a great indication that the cap would break most easily in the middle of that donut.

This map (in a different, but similar form) can be seen on the SPC Mesoanalysis web site as LFC-LCL Relative Humidity. Its the same idea, but on their map you want high humidity values for weakening cap indication.

——————

So there you have it–Andy’s manifesto on capping. It’s a gnarly subject but an important one, the difference between explosive convection and a blue-sky bust. There’s a lot more to it than looking at a single parameter on the SPC’s Mesoanalysis Graphics site. If nothing else, this discussion has brought me a step or two closer to knowing how to use the ever-increasing kinds of forecasting tools that are available.

Storm Chasing Selectivity (aka Impulse Control, aka Curbing the Impulse to Chase Any and Every Dumb System That Comes Down the Pike)

If the developmental curve of storm chasing is analogous to the seasons of life, then I think I’ve moved out of adolescence into young adulthood. Just as testosterone-driven impulses become tempered with knowledge and experience as callow youth transitions into maturity, so do idiotic, desperate, SDS-and-adrenaline-fueled urges to chase at the drop of a hat become balanced by an awareness of how stupid it is to waste time and gas driving hundreds of miles in pursuit of borderline scenarios.

Living in Michigan carries a steeper price tag than living in Kansas or even Iowa when it comes to busted chases. I can’t afford not to be selective, and I think I’ve finally internalized that lesson. As this year’s convective weather season has begun to ramp up, so far my greatest attainment hasn’t been successful chases, but rather, my refusal to get pulled into 2,000-mile excursions this early in the year.

Dixie Alley has had its moments, but so far they’ve been nothing like 2008. Tornado Alley has also offered a few setups, even one or two moderate risks, but I’ve been content to follow them at home on the radar, and I’ve been glad I did. If I lived in Oklahoma, I’d have been on them in a heartbeat. But when the party’s over and you live in Michigan–well, it had better have been a darned good party, because it’s a long drive home.

True, I chased at the beginning of this month in Kansas and Oklahoma. But I was already in the neighborhood, so to speak, and the chase opportunities were just frosting on the cake. I was happy with the Hutchinson, KS, action on March 7, but I probably wouldn’t have gone after it if I’d had to travel 800 miles to see it instead of simply heading north up I-35 from Norman.

Until last year, my chases have largely been event-driven. A system would move in and my buddy Bill, or Kurt, or Tom, and I would head out to Illinois, or Iowa, or Kansas, Nebraska, or Texas, or wherever, and chase it.  Last May was the first time I’ve spent more than three days out west. The logistics were different and definitely superior, and a change in my life circumstances–i.e. getting “restructured” with a decent severance, and starting my own business as a freelance writter–allowed me to tap into them.

This year I hope to spend even more time out on the Great Plains. The nature of my profession allows me that flexibility, and I love it.  This may be the year when I finally take a ten-day chase vacation and conduct my business out on the road.

I hope so. It’s been a long winter, I’ve waited a long time, and I’ve been very patient.

And now I’m itching to see some tornadoes.

Severe Weather Forecasting Workshop and Southern Plains Drought

It’s Thursday, and I’m in Louisville, Kentucky, with my buddy Bill. He’s got business here, and I’m taking care of business here on my laptop, and then we head to Norman, Oklahoma, for a severe weather forecasting workshop with Tim Vasquez. At times like this, I’m grateful for the freedom and mobility that come with being a freelance writer. As long as there’s work for me to do, I can do it pretty much anywhere provided I have my laptop and Internet access.

I’ve been hoping to catch a little early-season convective excitement this Saturday. Not sure that’s going to happen, though. The wild card seems to be moisture, but capping may also be a problem. It would be a shame to make the journey to Oklahoma and not see a little decent, Great Plains weather. Of course, that’s not the focus of the trip–the forecasting workshop is–but still, a supercell or two would be nice. Unfortunately, it looks like a cold front will provide the lift that finally busts the cap, and that suggests “linear.”

Sunday is the workshop, so I don’t much care what the weather does that day. I’ll be in class.

Monday may offer another crack at things, and it may be our best opportunity. It’s too far out to say (for that matter, Saturday is still a bit too far off yet to feel either good or bad about it), but assuming that the southern Plains at least get a bit of rain to relieve their dry spell and give the ground a good soaking, moisture may not be the question mark that it is for Saturday’s setup.

Frankly, the current forecast discussion on Stormtrack is the first time I’ve given serious thought to the effect of soil conditions on convection. I had always thought of ground moisture and evapotranspiration as just enhancements to the return flow, not potential deal-breakers. To my mind, a nice, deep low pulling in rich dewpoints from the Gulf of Mexico would more than compensate for dry regional conditions. But more than one seasoned Great Plains storm chaser has looked at the current drought conditions in Texas and Oklahoma and opined skeptically about the chances for 2009 being a good chase year in the West unless the region sees some rain.

Ah, well. The season hasn’t even begun yet, so I’ll take what I can get and hope for better as we move into May and June. Right now, it’s nice to simply see the sun shine, feel fifty-degree temperatures, and know that winter is drawing to a close.

Preparing for Storm Season 2009

Out of curiosity, I just ran the GFS down to 384 hours. The SPC has posted a light risk for parts of the South on Wednesday, but that may be just a foretaste of an upcoming active period. Did I already write about this recently? Not sure, but if so, I’m writing again.

Long-range prognostication is something like reading tea leaves, but consulting the numerical models still beats going to a groundhog for your two-week weather forecast. At around 204 hours, a nice surge of moisture appears to unlock the the Gulf of Mexico for several days, with 55 degree  dewpoints extending as far north as Missouri, southern Illinois, and Indiana.

Am I hanging my hat on this? Heck no. I’m just thinking, quite wistfully, how nice it would be if what I just saw bore some resemblance to how things actually play out nine days hence. In February, one dreams if he’s a northerner and shudders if he’s a resident of Dixie Alley.

I’m anxious to to see some great storms this year. Last year was fabulous, but I blew some great photo ops because I didn’t know how to use my camera. This year I think I’ve overcome that concern. Now if only the weather and my finances will cooperate.

Meanwhile, I’ve decided to make the best of the holding pattern by signing up for Tim Vasquez’s severe weather forecasting class. It’s a small group setting that will be held on Sunday, March 8, in Norman, Oklahoma. I just shelled out my hundred bucks today and am really looking forward to attending this thing. My chase partner, Bill Oosterbaan, will be joining me. This ought to be a perfect way to really tighten down our forecasting skills for storm chasing season 2009 by learning from one of the foremost gurus of the field. I own nearly all of Tim’s books, and also his Forecast Laboratory software. It’ll be cool to finally pick his brain for eight hours in a focused, fairly personal setting.

More immediately, though, this evening the sun set at 6:17 here in Caledonia, and tomorrow the temperature is supposed to spike to a sweltering 36 degrees. I’ll take that and like it for now. It presages good things to come.

Blowing Strong: National Storm Chaser Convention and a Great Gig with Francesca

What a fun and interesting weekend this has been! I had the rare pleasure of indulging both of my two main passions in life, storm chasing and playing jazz.

Fellow chasers Bill Oosterbaan, Kurt Hulst, and I got together Saturday at Bill’s house and spent the day watching live, streaming video of the eleventh annual National Storm Chaser Convention in Denver, courtesy of SevereStudios.com. When 6:30 rolled around, I broke away and played a gig at One Trick Pony in downtown Grand Rapids with Francesca Amari. The engagement was a blast and we were well received; tunes included a vocals-sax duet on “Good Morning, Heartache,” as performed on Francesca’s new CD, Better Days. Then this morning, I got together with Bill again and we watched the rest of the conference.

The entire conference was great, but from my perspective, the last part was the best. This included talks by Dr. Greg Forbes, Jon Davies, and Rich Thompson on forecasting and mesoscale analysis. I learned a couple things that will definitely be helpful for this coming chase season, which is just around the corner.

All in all, a most enjoyable couple of days. I finished by spending an hour or so practicing my saxophone, which is performing beautifully for me after coming back from the repair man.

Another point of interest: I’ve been invited to put together a little unit to play for the Thornapple Jazz Festival on April 17, hosted by the Thornapple Arts Council of Barry County. I’m excited about this, and pleased that the festival coordinator, my friend and fellow jazz musician Joe LaJoye, thought to ask me. I’ve already got two standout players lined up for my rhythm section, and am considering whom I’ll use for the last one.

Lots going on, and much of it good. Today it snowed, but with temperatures in the thirties, even the cold weather is warmer than it was a few weeks ago. From storm chasing conferences to jazz festival invitations, there are signs that spring is on the way.

Storms of 2008 DVD

I just received my new Storms of 2008 DVD in the mail a couple days ago, and I have to say, it’s fabulous! Having been thoroughly smitten with its predecessor, Storms of 2007, featuring its remarkable coverage of the historical Greensburg, Kansas, EF5 tornado, I was skeptical that any subsequent effort could live up to such high standards. But I have to say, this latest in the celebrated “Storms of…” series has more than met the challenge. Simply put, this is a stellar work, and if you’re at all a fan of storm chasing, you need to buy it, period.

And when you make your purchase, know that your $24.95 goes directly to helping disaster victims across the United States. The “Storms of…” series is an organized effort on the part of the storm chasing community to make a tangible difference in the lives of people who have been directly affected by severe weather and other natural disasters.

Judging by the remarkable footage in this DVD–often sublime and at times mind-boggling–you’d never guess that it is a grassroots effort. Yet, as with all the videos in the “Storms of…” series, Storms of 2008 is strictly a product of the storm chasing community. As such, it is a tour de force of the remarkable talent pool within that community. Videographers, meteorologists, seasoned storm chasers, gifted amateurs…all these and others besides have worked hard and long to produce a world-class video and a true labor of love.

The history-making Super Tuesday Tornado Outbreak that scoured Dixie Alley on February 5…the late-May tube-fest that blotted SPC storm reports with red for the better part of a week…the beautiful Dighton wall cloud…the Quinter EF4 duo…the tragic Parkersburg, Iowa, EF5…they’re all here plus a whole lot more, complete with synoptic analyses and topnotch narration.

Am I saying that you have absolutely gotta, gotta, gotta purchase this exceptional DVD? Yup, that’s what I’m saying. Just do it, okay? You can thank me later for being so pushy. Your money will help to make a real difference in people’s lives, and trust me, you’ll love what you get in return. Storms of 2008 is the definitive anthology of last year’s convective Armageddon in the United States. Buy here. Or visit the Storms of 2008 website to obtain more information and view a video trailer.

To the devoted cast of producers, editors, and engineers who faced the challenges and frustrations of making Storms of 2008 happen–BRAVO! And thanks!

GroundHog Day

Today is Groundhog Day. I don’t know whether Punxatawney Phil saw his shadow, but I have to say, I’m not willing to live or die by his abilities as a long-range weather forecaster. When it comes to chewing on roots and leaves, groundhogs’ abilities shine; as meteorologists, though, I’m less inclined to place much confidence in them.

Besides, this business of a groundhog seeing his shadow could hang on a matter of a minute or two. The day here in Michigan started out cloudy–lousy weather for viewing shadows. By around 2:15, it had cleared up, the sun was shining, and shadows could be had for cheap. Maybe Pennsylvania experienced similar circumstances, I don’t know. Did Phil go on the prowl for his shadow in the morning or the afternoon? That could make a difference. If you ask me, it all seems pretty arbitrary.

I have more confidence in the forecast models. Even though next week’s surge of moisture is a week away, I’ve got something reasonably substantial to pin my expectations on. This is the time of year when I start to get my hopes up. Action in Dixie Alley next Sunday or Monday? Could be. Looks like mid-fifties dewpoints may work their way as far north as southern Illinois. Right now, it’s just conjecture, wishcasting. But overall, while ol’ Phil seems like a nice enough fellow, I think the GFS packs a bit more credibility when it comes to the weather.

Not Enough Tornadoes

Here is a conversation you’re unlikely to overhear at a restaurant:

“I’m going to move.”

“Why? Vermont is such a beautiful state.”

“Not enough tornadoes. I’m thinking maybe Hays, Kansas.”

Nope, you just won’t hear most people talk that way. A generous supply of tornadoes simply isn’t a big selling point for the average homebuyer. On the other hand, if you’re a storm chaser, it could be a compelling reason to sell your chalet near Boise, Idaho, and move to Wakeeney.

I just finished perusing a thread on Stormtrack where chasers were considering this question. The earnestness of the discussion struck my funny bone. I mean, the concept of moving somewhere because it has lots of tornadoes is utterly foreign to most Americans, who are unmotivated by tornado accessibility. In fact, I’d venture to say that many people would consider the idea downright weird. (“You’re moving where because of what?“)

Chasers, however, seem to see nothing unusual about factoring in tornado statistics as a motivating factor in home buying.  It’s weird. And the reason I laugh is because I can relate. I’m not ready to pack up my bags and move from Michigan, because busted economy or not, I love this state. But if I ever do move, it won’t be to California because of the ocean, or Florida because of the warm weather, or Vermont because of its rural New England beauty. It’ll be to the Great Plains because of the dryline.

Realistically, I can’t see it happening anytime soon. I might be able to find a location with a decent brewpub, such as Wichita, but where would I go to hear some decent live jazz, let alone play it? That side of me is as important as the storm chaser in me. Maybe the two can be reconciled. To be honest, I’m not too worried about it. It’s just fun to think about, and certainly worth laughing about.

I do kinda wonder, though, what it would cost to build an underground bunker as a vacation home in the Texas panhandle.