2012--Day 3
Day 3
A semi-early start to the day in OK City on what turned out to be a fantastically cool, breezy morning (thanks to last night’s cold front), as we had a scheduled tour of the National Weather Center, Mecca for meteorologists. We got delayed and waylaid by traffic and a ferocious-looking accident. Kevin Kloesel gave us an enhanced tour of the equipment facility (they’re doing some amazing things with balloon-launched instruments), the School of Meteorology, the Storm Prediction Center (where they still analyze maps by hand), the Hazardous Weather Testbed, and the Norman WFO. He was very funny and had lots of tidbits and interesting things to say (like the chicken wire that they put behind the grilles of the mobile mesonet minivans, because hailstones can punch holes in the radiators), and he gave me a great idea for weather briefings (no one knows who’s doing it until the time of the briefing). Of course, his synoptic course is senior level and has eight (!) contact hours a week. It was a beautiful facility with the potential for great impromptu interactions. Our tour guide had a fantastic idea for the name of the canteen, which turned out to be runner-up: The Isobar and Grill—Jim Moore would have been so proud. The winning name is cute and quasi-apropos.
While I was at SPC, Greg Carbin (the SOO at SPC) called my name. Greg’s a fellow Lyndon alum who graduated two years ahead of me (and a classmate of a certain follically-challenged meteorologist who works for some cable channel in Atlanta). He also has spectacular taste in music, a big plus in my book—has The Jayhawks on his iPod. (Sadly, MS Word doesn’t think ‘iPod’ is incorrectly spelled.) My SLU classmate Pam Heinselman (another NWC resident) wasn’t around, sadly. Sorry I missed you.
The weather is looking less promising for the next day or so, so today and Friday will be travel days of sorts. The plan for the day is to leave OKC and head west toward New Mexico (#46!) and then turn north for the Front Range. Unfortunately this means a loooooong road trip that should get us into Pueblo, CO well after midnight MDT. (Pueblo is the city where you used to be able to write to the U. S. Government Printing Clearinghouse and get free pamphlets on how to do things like make your own cheese and build a nuclear reactor from an old washing machine—I imagine there’s an actual warehouse the size of Cleveland with these things). And yes, I did write to them, but I can’t remember why. Oh yeah—I was (was?) a nerd. I think the pamphlet was on how not to get girls in high school to date you. Mission accomplished!
The ride through the Oklahoma Panhandle was eye-opening, primarily in just how little there was going on. Gently rolling plains with fields and the occasional cluster of cows BUT NO HOUSES. Of course, we had to stop in a very unfortunately named town that’s incredibly popular with storm chasers, many of whom were/are as successful with the opposite sex as me.
As I write this we’re on the westward leg of the trip, and we’re seeing a very distant storm in northeastern New Mexico (at least 30 miles away, possibly more) that is actually severe. Being completely dark and driving along terrain as flat as day-old beer allows us to see occasional lightning flashes, most likely from the anvil—three nights in a row. The lightning strikes are on either side of us (southwest and northwest)—lightning in stereo. And we just crested 1400 miles in three days and we’re not close to being done for the night.
It’s now 10:40 pm CDT, and time for dinner—a prepackaged gas station ham and cheese sandwich that reflects the sensibilities of the area’s populace (white bread, no veggies). Absolutely the best prepackaged gas station ham and cheese sandwich I’ve ever had. And The Jayhawks (Hollywood Town Hall, in case Pat Market is reading) cycled onto my mp3 player—score! An appropriate choice for storm chasing, as some of the songs are meteorologically titled (Waiting for the Sun, Clouds, Settled Down Like Rain). I just realized that those songs appear in proper meteorological ‘order’ (sun, clouds, rain). No wonder Pat and I are such fans. (Man, I must be tired, coming up with this stream of unconsciousness stuff.)
10:05 pm—crossed #46 off the list. Unfortunately, aside from the occasional distant CG strikes to the south, there’s not a lot to see. Nevertheless, four to go—I’ll take it. Apparently we’ll have gained 6500 feet of elevation since this morning when we get to Raton Pass near the CO/NM border, but we’ll lose about 2000 of that by the time we get ‘home’ for the night. Don’t think we’ll be getting an early start, for some reason. Or breakfast.
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