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(Left to right) Joshua Scheck and Sam Ng, SLU doctoral
candidates and storm chasers. |
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SLU RESEARCHERS
RISK LIFE AND LIMB FOR A GLIMPSE INSIDE THE STORM.
By Glen Sparks
Joshua Scheck spotted his first tornadoes about a decade ago, and
he swears they did a little two-step in the northern Illinois sky.
Scheck, out on a drive during a fierce summer storm, couldn’t stop
staring as the trio of twisters shifted back and forth in an open
field.
“It was like they were dancing,” Scheck says. “It wasn’t scary.
It was the most peaceful thing I’ve ever seen.” Since then, Scheck—who
studies meteorology at St. Louis University (SLU)—has spotted only
about three or four tornadoes.
Not that he and fellow SLU doctoral candidate and storm chaser Sam
Ng haven’t tried. During the spring and summer, Scheck and Ng think
nothing of jumping into their cars and driving hundreds of miles
to get close to hail, lightning, torrential rain and—if the conditions
are just right and they’re “lucky”—a tornado or two.
“Oh, my gosh, it’s incredible to be out and to see a tornado,” Ng
says. “‘Euphoric’ is a good word. Remember, you might only see a
tornado one out of every 10 times that you chase.”
By chasing storms, scientists can learn more about tornado habits
and the unstable atmosphere that breeds them. But the attraction
of storm chasing is not pure science. “It’s the thrill of the chase,”
Ng says. “They’re just so hard to catch.”
This is not a casual hobby, like playing golf on a spare weekend,
say, or painting a picture at the park if the trees look just right.
“Obsession is a good way to put it,” Scheck says. “I tell all of
my friends that no plans are solid anytime during spring or summer.”
SLU does not encourage its students to chase storms, nor is it part
of the standard curriculum. Still, Jim Moore, a longtime meteorology
professor at SLU, doesn’t blame Scheck and Ng for their tornado
trips. He jokes that some college students in Texas and Oklahoma
spend so much time chasing tornadoes that their grades drop faster
than the barometric pressure during a storm.
“Storm chasers go out and see up close the things that they are
learning about in a classroom, and reading about in a book,” Moore
says. “It’s something that you want to do if you’re a real weather
nerd.”
Tornado season starts in early April and runs through summer. Although
scientists are unsure of the exact dynamics involved, in simple
terms, tornadoes are caused by humid air rushing up from the Gulf
of Mexico hitting dry, cold air from Canada and the Rocky Mountains.
These forces greet each other on the Central Plains, in a 10-state
region experts have labeled “Tornado Alley.”
Nearly 800 tornadoes strike every year in the U.S., and can form
just about anyplace. California gets the occasional tornado, as
does New Hampshire. About 28 tornadoes strike the Show-Me State
every year, and Illinois gets hit with 27 twisters on average.
The St. Louis region has fallen victim to some of the deadliest
tornadoes in history. In 1896, a tornado barreled through Lafayette
Square, killing 255 people and skipping across the Mississippi River
into East St. Louis. The Tri-state tornado of 1925 roared across
parts of Missouri, Illinois and Indiana. That twister left 695 people
dead and 2,027 injured. In 1959, a tornado blew off part of the
roof on the old arena. And just last spring, a fierce storm blew
through De Soto, Mo., demolishing the local school gymnasium.
Repair bills after violent storms can be as incredible as the twisters
themselves. Property and casualty insurers expect to pay policyholders
about $1.55 billion for losses after a series of storms hit 18 states
last spring, including Missouri and Illinois, according to the Insurance
Services office in New Jersey.
The storms that rumbled through Missouri did about $400 million
in damage, says Randy McConnell, a spokesman with the Missouri Department
of Insurance. The hail storm that battered north St. Louis County
in April 2001 did about $1 billion in damage.
The astronomical figures do not surprise a seasoned storm chaser
like Ng. “You’re talking about weather at its most violent,” he
says. “That’s part of the attraction in studying them.”
Scheck, 28, grew up in Cleveland before moving to northern Illinois.
There, one flat piece of farmland follows another, and the sky goes
on forever. Scheck would stand on the stoop and watch the lightning
glow from 70 miles away.
All he wanted was to see a tornado.
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RAISE THE ROOF
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The
De Soto School District is rebuilding after severe storms
rumbled through that community last May, demolishing the junior
high gymnasium and peeling the roof off the senior high gym.
The elementary school roof was also blown away, and an early
summer was announced for all 2,900 district students.
On March 23, the district broke ground on a $7.6 million improvement
project. De Soto Superintendent Terry Noble says the work
should be completed by the start of the 2005-06 school year.
The project will be paid for out of a bond issue approved
by voters last August.
The district—located about 40 miles southwest of St. Louis—is
building a new gym and cafeteria, remodeling the library,
and adding a commons space. The junior high and high school
will switch buildings, but still be a part of the same complex.
De Soto also is renovating two elementary schools.
Noble says the storms brought residents together. Voters approved
the bond issue by a wide margin. “Everybody got behind this,”
he says. “We had residents and business people working together
to get this passed.” |
“I’d go out sometimes during a storm, and drive around and do some
unofficial storm chasing,” he says.
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Ng chased this tornado on May 4, 2003 near Girard,
Kan. |
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Ng, 30, is a native of Philadelphia—not a hotspot for tornado activity.
But after earning his bachelor’s degree in meteorology at Millersville
(Pa.) University, he pursued a master’s at Texas Tech University
in lonely Lubbock.
If Tibet is the best place in the world to see tall mountains, and
Germany is the best place to order a beer, then Northeast Texas
might just be the best place to chase tornadoes. About 125 tornadoes
form every year in the Lone Star State, and chasers can expect an
unobstructed view of the entire show.
In Lubbock, the tallest thing on the horizon is usually a big piece
of tumbleweed rushing by. Trees in that part of Texas are as scarce
as cool summer days. “If you want to see a tornado, that is definitely
the place to be,” Ng says. “It’s flat and the conditions are just
right.”
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Tornado Tips
Storm chasers get a big thrill out of confronting tornadoes—at
a safe distance, of course. For just about everyone else,
the idea of getting close to a tornado is frightening. Scott
Truett, a meteorologist with the National Weather Service
office in St. Charles, offered some tips for residents of
Tornado Alley if they hear tornado sirens sound.
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1.
The best place to take shelter is in the basement of a building.
Go to the center of the building and try to hide underneath
a desk or table. Avoid standing next to a wall. “Sometimes,
we see walls that are ripped out, but the center part of a
structure is still intact,” Truett says.
2. Apartment residents should go to a basement area, or take
cover in a bathroom or a first-floor laundry room.
3. Drivers on the road should seek shelter. A tornado can
send a
railroad car airborne—imagine what it can do to a Hyundai.
4. Large and small businesses should practice emergency drills.
Preparing for a tornado can save lives. “Take the time right
now,” Truett says. “The time to get ready for a tornado is
long before one strikes.”
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Before going out, chasers check the National Weather Service Web
site. In St. Louis, the Web address is www.crh.noaa.gov.
If the Weather Service meteorologists are issuing storm warnings,
chasers get interested. Ng and Scheck can zoom in and get the forecast
for a particular area, and if things heat up, the chase is on.
Last spring, Scheck and a group of SLU master’s degree students
in meteorology took off for Gerard, Kan. A series of storms broke
out that day, and the chasing figured to be good.
“When you get something like that, it’s like, ‘Let’s go,’” Ng says.
Scheck and some fellow grad students drove to Gerard in a separate
car from Ng. They quickly spotted debris and pieces of paper flying
around the storm area, wrestling with the turbulent sky. “You know
there’s probably a tornado around, but you can’t see one,” Scheck
says. “Now that’s eerie.”
Just then, Ng saw a tornado ahead on the road. The twister was heading
straight for him, sucking air into the cyclone. “I didn’t want to
see how close I was,” Ng remembers. “People might say that I was
being pretty stupid. Anything less than a mile is risky. If you’re
closer than that, it’s not a comfortable feeling.
“That’s one reason that this is not something for amateurs to do,”
Ng continues. “Josh and I know a lot about weather, and we also
plan escape routes. We know how to get out of there.”
Ng headed in the opposite direction of the twister. Scheck, though,
still couldn’t find the tornado. The rain poured, while lightning
brightened the horizon and hail pelted the roof of the car. The
group needed to find shelter. Finally, Scheck spotted an old farmhouse
by the road, and the weary crew made it there safely.
For some of the students, that was the end of their storm chasing
career.
Scheck might be a storm chaser, but he disagrees with any idea that
his “obsession” makes him some sort of macho guy. (He calls rock
climbing a nutty hobby.) “Storm chasing isn’t something that I do
to get a lot of attention,” Scheck says. “I don’t go into bars and
talk about chasing tornadoes. A lot of people I know don’t even
know that I do this.”
Scheck plans to continue studying tornadoes after he graduates from
SLU, while Ng hopes to become a teacher. Both expect to keep heading
straight into storms. “I don’t know if I’m going to make a career
out of tornadoes, but I’m always going to be interested in them,”
Ng says.
“I’ll always be up for a good chase.”
Glen Sparks is a freelance writer based in St. Louis. |
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