Storm Chasing in Virginia
When my son headed off to the far-distant realms of the University of Oklahoma to study meteorology I realized that I might finally be able to scratch my own lifelong itch to chase storms. I had always been awestruck by the power of the (usually) tame Virginia thunderstorms, but I had no idea of how or where to begin chasing. So in 2002 after my son completed his sophomore year at OU I flew out to Dallas, met my brother from Austin, and charged up I-35 to Norman to (a) pack my son out of his dorm room and (b) begin my quest for the monsters of the Plains. After a soul-satisfying week in which my brother and I bagged our first tornado he returned to Austin and my son and I journeyed eastward back home to Virginia.
With memories of funnels, wall clouds, and hailfall still dancing in my head I was pumped about continuing the adventure back home in the Mid-Atlantic. Given that it was still May there were plenty of chase opportunities, but I was in for a rude awakening after our time on the Plains. The first thing I realized was that visibility and sight lines in the Virginia Piedmont are incredibly restricted compared to out West. I had forgotten an everpresent aspect of living in the East…trees! While our forests provide a beautiful backdrop to the countryside they really cramp open views of the sky. Accompanying this bit of annoyance was the road system. Gone were the rectangular system of back roads we had traversed in western Texas, Oklahoma, and Kansas that had actually made chase planning (and escape routes!!) relatively simple. The curvy tree-lined Virginia roads seemed to always focus us in any direction but the one we needed to head toward. Planning chases now required locating primary and secondary routes that included open fields to provide unobstructed views of the sky. My son and I found this out the hard way when we chased a wall cloud cyclic storm into a heavily forested area. We finally found a wide spot in the road that provided us a somewhat open view of the sky right above us. Unfortunately it was directly under an inactive wall cloud that suddenly became very active, dropping a funnel almost on top of our heads. That will make you plan approach and escape routes more thoroughly!!
Other chase factors here in northern Virginia that differ from the Great Plains involve the geography and the population density. The Blue Ridge mountains tend to break up storms crossing the ridgelines, causing what my son and I have termed the “toilet bowl” effect in our area in which many cells traveling northwest to southeast (a la cold frontal passages) seem to die out before reaching us, only to regenerate further east over the coastal plain. Additionally the presence of several large rivers (the Potomac, Rappahannock, and James, plus the Chesapeake Bay) can create havoc during chases via a limited number of available bridges. My son and I have been forced to give up on very promising cells when we’ve reached waters’ edge with no bridges handy…it’s almost as if the cells know how to shake us off! And of course the traffic in northern Virginia defies description to those living in less-settled climes. I have a boundary line to my north which I will not willingly cross during a chase simply because of horrendous traffic conditions. That means I miss some excellent storms that don’t come far enough south.
Given these restrictions why do I bother to chase back here? Because this is where I live, and I can’t afford the time and money to head to the Plains every spring. Besides, stormchasing runs through my veins and I can’t ignore the urge anymore! And we do have a few advantages over the Plains, including tropical system remnants that blow through in the late summer and early fall that provide exciting chasing (a la Isidore in 2002 and Ivan in 2004). Further, there is no chaser convergence around here, the countryside is pretty, and I can cover a decently wide area and still sleep in my own bed every night. Now, if only I could slip out of work more easily on chase days…
