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We were close to Sioux City, so we motored east a little, hopped onto Interstate 29 north to Sioux Falls, and then went west on Interstate 90. Along the way I learned of severe thunderstorm warnings for Hand, Sanborn, and Miner counties, all to our northwest. We made good progress at 75 mph on the Interstates, and a new, hard thunderstorm anvil soared overhead just west of Sioux Falls. It was almost 8 p.m., and sunset was still a ways off (thank God we were so close to the North Pole!). I had a good feeling about how things had changed for us in two hours. Radio station 1390 AM in Madison reported that a new storm, near Mitchell, deserved attention. That must be our anvil maker! It's dead ahead. It's moving towards us. It's a tail-end Charlie. It's in a Tornado Watch. Life is good!
Martin and Keith exited I-90 onto U.S. 81 (again!), and I followed. Martin missed the road west out of Salem, and we convened just north of the small town. Lightning flickered in the anvil above, and we knew that there was a strong cell to our west---we just couldn't see it. A scrawny updraft just to our west was obscuring the area of interest. Soon, a tornado warning was issued for northern Hanson County, the next county west. Moments later, AM 1390 said that there was a tornado approaching Farmer, just 15 miles west of Salem! The storm was moving east at 35 mph. It was about 8:25 p.m., and time to head west again.
We quickly cleared the annoying condensation of the intervening mini-cell as we drove west from Salem on Highway 38. The sky opened up dramatically, and, along the horizon to the west-northwest, was a strange yellow tinge. Trees occasionally blocked our view, but there was something bisecting this shallow band of light. Could this be the tornado that was reported? One more line of trees to clear...OH MY GOSH---YES!! It's HUGE! Look up there---an awesome striated rotating updraft! In front of us, and headed towards us, was a classic Midwestern supercell, with a fully developed and beautifully backlit tornado.
This is the moment that chasers yearn for! This is why we drive 10,000 miles every spring! This is why we save all of our money for gas, motels, maps, cameras, film, laptops, scanners, and cell phone bills. This is the moment that we fantasize about while driving down that deserted two-lane road in West Texas after another busted chase. This is the moment of fulfillment and exhilaration, and all of those other feelings that are impossible to explain to someone who doesn't give a thunderstorm a second thought!
Elation notwithstanding, I had to concentrate. Where should I stop? I could practically drive right next to the tornado by continuing west. I was leading the two-vehicle chase team down Highway 38, and I elected to stop relatively soon. The tornado was still about 5 to 6 miles away, but it was approaching rather rapidly, it was not going to dissipate any time soon, and the lighting and contrast were too good to pass up. I turned right on a paved north-south road and almost immediately pulled into a turnout on its west side. (This road was six miles west of Salem and four miles east of Spencer. Martin and Keith stopped along U.S. 38 about an eighth of a mile behind Cheryl and me.) I did not know that the town of Spencer was between myself and the tornado. A large and empty farm field afforded an excellent view of the storm, and I nervously set up the tripod and the camcorder. Make sure it's level, Bill! Make sure the lens is clean, the unit in focus, and NOT on pause!
The time was 8:35 p.m. A few small hailstones struck the Pathfinder, and winds were from the east-southeast at about 20 mph (compared to light winds in Salem ten minutes earlier). Just north of due west spun a scene of congruity and chaos: above, the mother cyclone, in perfect tropospheric harmony; below, total tornadic tumult. The seething vortex distributed dust, dirt, debris, and accessory clouds in fast-forward speed. Dust plumes and curtains, condensation skirts and collars, spokes and fingers---all whirled around in an unbridled frenzy. The funnel motion on this thing was unreal! Upward translation along its north fringe was at warp speed. The small town of Spencer found itself in the direct path of the tornado at 8:37 p.m. Six residents perished, and most of the town was demolished.
The tornado maintained its size and strength as it drew nearer. Early on I thought that it might pass just to our north, but now it was only a couple of miles away, and due west. The orange-yellow background turned a faint peach color, not much brighter than the gray tornado. The tornado hid itself momentarily in dust and condensation, and then emerged completely for new photo-ops. The front edge of the rotating updraft moved overhead, and lightning activity suddenly increased. I told Cheryl to get inside the vehicle, and I tried to stay low. The landscape lit up a couple of times and thunder crashed within two seconds. It was too dangerous to be outside. The camcorder came off of the tripod and into Cheryl's hands. I tossed the metal Bogen tripod into the vehicle, closed the rear hatch, and jumped into the driver's seat. Whew! A violent-class tornado was just down the road, but I felt a LOT safer now!
For about 20 seconds we watched the increasingly black funnel accost the farmland to our west-southwest, less than two miles away. We could not stay here. The tornado was going to be just to our south in a couple of minutes. I decided to blast south towards Interstate 90. Cheryl pointed the fully zoomed-out camcorder towards the west as I accelerated south of Highway 38, and the surface circulation soon filled the entire video frame! A developing squall line was advancing upon the tornadic mesocyclone, and conditions were changing fast. continued
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