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ROANOKE WEATHER Weather Channel
Cloudy Current Conditions: Cloudy
Temperature: 57°F
Wind: From the SE at 10 mph
Relative Humidity: 44%
Mostly Sunny/Wind THU
Rain
47°F...53°F
Mostly Sunny/Wind FRI
Mostly Sunny/Wind
37°F...52°F
Mostly Sunny SAT
Mostly Sunny
42°F...57°F


Kevin Myatt grew up in Arkansas to the tune of tornado sirens and the rhythm of hailstones. Chasing twisters like he did in 1999 and getting within a quarter-mile of one was exciting, but he finally tired of 5-month-long summers and 2-inch snowstorms and moved to the cooler climes of Southwest Virginia's mountains in 1999.

Kevin thought he was going to be a meteorologist growing up but he credits divine intervention with continually detouring him to a newspaper career instead, landing him in an managing editor job of a small Arkansas paper before coming to The Roanoke Times as a copy editor in 1999.

But his love of weather continues to this day, and at the beginning of 2003 he began this weather column in addition to the hiking page he has updated occasionally on Roanoke.com since early 2000.

He now works the copy desk for The Roanoke Times and is its principal weather geek, offering weather reporting training classes to reporters and advising the newsroom on upcoming weather stories. He updates this column most Tuesdays and Fridays -- and other times as conditions warrant. Email your weather or comments questions to kevin.myatt@roanoke.com

For more on Kevin
and his column, click here

Latest storm warnings from the National Weather Service in Blacksburg.
Ski slopes -- in season, of course
Road conditions

April 2004

March 2004

February 2004

January 2004

Early winter 2003-4

November 2003

October 2003

Hurricane Isabel

August 2003

July 2003

June 2003

Spring 2003

Prelude to spring

Winter hangs on

Presidents' Day ice storm and big melt

Why a computer can't forecast the weather

 

WEATHER JOURNAL

Storm chasers: Starting May 14, keep tabs on Dave Carroll on his trek through tornado country. Read reports

May 24, 2004

SUMMER'S ALMOST OVER , FOR NOW

Summer will end on Thursday.

At least, this mini-summer we've had in May will ease off for a while.

After three weeks of warm, humid days with afternoon thunder, change is in the air.

A domino effect from a change in the the Pacific Ocean will shift the weather pattern westward beginning in the middle of this week.

A large high pressure system in the northern Pacific will diminish, then re-form much farther west. This means everything else in the pattern will shift west, too.

The Bermuda/Southeast U.S. high pressure that has kept this sultry air mass upon us like the cover on a Crock pot will, like the Pacific high, flatten and eventually reform over the Midwest.

With the jet stream coming around the high to the north, it will dive southward and bring cold fronts through beginning Wednesday night or Thursday morning. This will restore seasonal temperatures, with highs in the 70s and lows in the 50s. Behind the fronts -- at least two are expected to come through late this week and early next week -- we could have a few really gorgeous days, with lots of sun, little haze and low humidity.

It will be a far cry from the lazy, hazy, crazy days of May we've had.

Through Sunday, May temperatures in Roanoke were averaging nearly 7 degrees above the 30-year normal averaged between 1970 and 2000. That's a toasty month.

It's yet to hit 90 at Roanoke Regional Airport, but four days, May 7, May 9, May 21 and May 22, have had highs of 89.

It's almost hard to believe that there was a truly chilly day as recently as May 3, when the high in Roanoke was 57, the low was 46, and a few high mountaintops where it was even colder saw some snow mix with rain.

We don't expect that any time soon, and high pressure will likely build over us again from the southwest or southeast, renewing the heat.

If the Midwest high becomes a dominant feature this summer, we could be in for frequent thunderstorms as cold fronts come around it. Or, if the high becomes large enough and spreads east, it could bring hot, dry weather.

It's getting the time of year that the weather pattern can stall in its tracks. This one is taking three weeks to break, and it's not even really summer yet.

A renewal of the Bermuda high would probably bring back the hot, sticky weather. It's getting the time of year that the weather pattern can stall in its tracks. This one is taking three weeks to break, and it's not even really summer yet.

A few notes

>>On the last day in the Plains, Dave Carroll and his storm chasers from Pulaski and Blacksburg got up close and personal with a tornado during Saturday's outbreak in Nebraska. Perhaps a little too close. Click here for a complete day-by-day log of the chase.

>>Some of you along the Blue Ridge east of the Roanoke Valley, particularly right outside of Vinton, apparently had your own weather excitement on Saturday. There were several reports of large hail from 1-2 inches in diameter reported to the National Weather Service, including one report of hail 3 inches in diameter.

>>Also, on Sunday, reports around the area included large hail, wind damage and flooding in several counties, particularly the Henry County-Martinsville area.

>>It's doubtful that a storm system in the Carribean will become the Atlantic's first named tropical storm a week before the Atlantic tropical season officially begins, but it is bringing a flash flooding/mudslide threat to Cuba, Jamaica, Haiti, the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico. Meanwhile, the eastern Pacific tropical season is off to an early start with Tropical Storm Agatha. She'll wander around south of Baja Mexico next few days trying hard to become a hurricane.

May 20, 2004

AVALANCE OF WIND PROBABLY A MICROBURST

A rather unremarkable thunderstorm cell developed over Salem on Wednesday afternoon, one of many dotting the map as afternoon heating boiled up convection for about the umpteenth straight day this month. For most of us, it was a few claps of thunder, some sudden but short-lived downpours, and maybe a bit of wind rippling the trees.

But in one small area of Salem, according to a witness, it was "five minutes of chaos."

At Salem Memorial Baseball Stadium, preparations were underway for the night's baseball game between the Salem Avalanche and the Winston-Salem Warthogs. What ensued in those five minutes was enough to cancel that game. Winds peeled a sign into the outfield and lifted a 300-pound, deflated children's "bounce house" into the air, and blew over some concession carts. Lightning took out a scoreboard. Some trees nearby were damaged.

Most likely, what hit the stadium was a microburst, or an intense downdraft out of the thunderstorm.

Microbursts in violent thunderstorms can unleash winds of more than 100 miles per hour over an area that can extend many square miles. Those caught under severe microbursts often mistake them for tornadoes, because the mighty downburst of wind can create a large roar and produce similar damage.

However, a survey of damage afterward shows unmistakeable differences. In a tornado, debris is twisted toward the center of a straight path. In a microburst, the damage fans outward from a central point.

Even a mild thunderstorm like that on Wednesday contains strong downdrafts that can become microbursts reaching the ground in a localized area. This microburst probably contained winds of between 50 and 60 mph right where it came to the surface, which was probably right on the Salem stadium/civic center grounds. The winds weakened as they fanned out from this central point, so that might explain why the Salem police had no other reports of damage.

I can sympathize. Once as a teen, a tiny dot of a thunderstorm passed over my house and unleashed an incredible burst of tree-bending gusts for about 10 minutes. I eagerly awaited the news that evening to see reports of the widespread damage I was sure had occured across the area. But there was nothing. That was just my little microburst.

Still bad weather in Bangladesh

Since I wrote my column a month ago on the nation I would nominate for having the world's worst weather -- a column that received a surprisingly strong response from readers, including one from Bangladesh itself -- things have only gotten worse for the crowded little nation east of India.

The good news is that tornado season has ended in Bangladesh. The bad news is that, since I last wrote, there has been a major heat wave with temperatures pushing as high as 105 degrees in Dhaka, the capital. Now, there's a cyclone (hurricane) bearing down on the country from that sultry pot of ocean stew called the Bay of Bengal.

A microburst doesn't seem so bad.

May 17, 2004

BERMUDA HIGH IS LARGE AND IN CHARGE

You may or may not wear Bermuda shorts, putt on Bermuda greens, or believe in the Bermuda Triangle.

But like it or not, if you're reading from Southwest Virginia or anywhere else in the mid-Atlantic or southeastern United States, you're firmly under the influence of a Bermuda high pressure system.

This dome of stable, sinking air aloft has established itself earlier than we typically see. It's centered off the East Coast, in the general direction of Bermuda, though in this case a bit farther west. The result has been and continues to be that every day seems like the last when it comes to weather.

The morning is calm and usually sunny. Thunderheads start building around midday. Some people get raindrops and rumbles of thunder by mid- to late afternoon; a few get hail and gusty winds. Most only hear thunder at a distance or see fuffy clouds on the horizon. A few storms linger until early evening, but not much longer. After a few flickers of lightning on the horizon early in the evening, a muggy night ensues.

The high pressure system aloft has trapped warm, humid air under it. It's moist enough that the day's heating is enough to trigger showers and thunderstorms. But the high is also acting as a big forcefield, deflecting fronts away from us and around us.

The National Weather Service in Blacksburg described it like this in a Sunday forecast discussion: "Bascially, fronts will near us, waffle around, and then move northward."

A cold front tried hard to assault the ridge from the west over the weekend. It got close enough to trigger a few extra storms on Sunday, but it was quickly bounced north away from us. So the warm, muggy weather with scattered afternoon thunderstorms continues.

A couple more fronts will attack the ridge this week, but it doesn't look like either of them will have the juice to knock it down. At midweek and again toward the weekend, fronts may get close enough to enhance the thunderstorm activity, but probably will not push through and bring in cooler, drier air. That may suit you just fine if you like summer.

The daytime convection thunderstorms that form are typically "pulse-type" storms that bubble up on heat thermals in an hour or two and then collapse rapidly, pulling rain, wind and sometimes hail to the surface in one glorious, lightning-charged burst. If you happen to be under one of these, it seems like the whole world is raining down on you. If you're not, it's just a faint rumble and someone else's problem.

How long will the Bermuda high hold? It's anybody guess. Sometimes, it can hang on all summer, expanding and contracting with time.

There's no sign it's going to disappear into the Bermuda Triangle any time soon.

May 13, 2004

A TORNADO ROARS, AND ALL IS SILENT

It was Jan. 17, 1999. It had snowed three days before, and there might even have been a bit of unmelted ice still clinging to the knees of cypress trees in eastern Arkansas’ low, flat, swampy plains. It was not what anyone in the United States would call “tornado season.”

A tornado forms over eastern Arkansas in January 1999. At first, a wall cloud develops, a lowered mass on the southwest edge of the storm.
Later, a fully formed funnel races across the landscape. This tornado damaged a few homes and other buildings, but injured no one. (Photos by Kevin Myatt)
But in the course of about an hour on that muggy winter Sunday afternoon, I would have not one, but two close encounters with tornadoes.

Driving west from my parents’ house toward my own 70 miles away, I made a detour south in an effort to get a better observing position on a thunderstorm moving northeast. There were already reports on the radio of tornadoes on the ground.

I did not want to drive through the heavy rain and possibly hail in the middle of the severe thunderstorm that loomed to my west. Veteran storm chasers call this “core-punching” and it can get you in big trouble fast — zero visibility, hydroplaning, flash flooding, windshield-smashing hail, or possibly, driving right out of the rain sheet into a tornado. Rather, I wanted the prime position to the southeast of the storm, where perhaps I would be in a dry area with good visibility back into the southwest flank of a storm where a tornado was most likely to form.

I zoomed southwest on a state highway under dark, turbulent clouds that seemed to sink toward the southwest horizon. When I reached the intersection with another state highway, I headed east a few miles to give me a bit more safe distance from the lowering of clouds.

When I looked back in the rear view mirror, I saw a textbook wall cloud, shown in one of the photos above. A low, rounded mass hung toward the ground, and a clear slot followed closely behind it, allowing sunlight to brighten the blackened sky. Then, I noticed a small cone poking out from underneath the dark mass.

A funnel dips from angry storm clouds over eastern Arkansas in January 1999. This twister touched down about a quarter-mile from the photographer, crossing a highway with a swirl of water sucked out of rice fields. (Photo by Kevin Myatt)
My heart raced. Tornado. I felt like the big game hunter staring a raging elephant in the eyes. The word “tornado” alone invokes fear and awe and wonder. I’m sure I said a prayer in my mixed feeling of exhiliration that I was witnessing a tornado and concern for those who could be in its path.

I had seen tornadoes before, four different times, the first when I was 5 years old. But this time, I had a camera. A cheesy, plastic camera that left scratches on my 35-millimeter film, but any camera is better than no camera. I remember loading it as I headed out, telling my mother: “Just in case I see a tornado.”

Parked on a farm road, I shot a series of photos documenting the tornado’s life until it died as a long rope writhing above the Arkansas farmland. Gusts of wind blew sheets of rain and then small hail past me toward the forming funnel about 3 miles away. Not far to my west, baseball-sized hail was clubbing entire flocks of geese to death as they rested in the flooded rice fields. But after a few mild gusts where I was, an uneasy quiet settled over the landscape. All went silent in deference to the tornado.

Another storm was following right behind this one, I heard on the radio. I headed east out of the way, all the while keeping an eye on a dark flank of clouds right in front of me.

Suddenly, down dropped a cone less than a half-mile away to my right. A little swirl of water arose out of the rice field right under the cone. It was angling toward the highway, right in front of me.

I had two choices: Stop, or drive into a tornado.

I pulled alongside the road and watched the funnel cross a quarter-mile in front of me with its swirl of water. Near the end of the role of film, I got one picture of the ragged funnel dipping toward the Earth, the only record I have of this personal closest of encounters with the whirling dervish of the Plains.

I’ve walked with grieving families amid splintered remains where people were killed. I’ve driven through towns that, years later, still bear scars. I’ve hid from unseen twisters as they prowled the darkness one Christmas Eve in my youth. I know the misery and anguish these monsters can cause. But, having been toe to toe with nature’s unleashed fury, I long to chase the wind once more.

May 10, 2004

LOCAL STORM CHASERS AREN'T DAREDEVILS

When Dave Carroll lists his biggest fears about chasing storms, the top one on his list has nothing to do with storms.

"Traffic," he says.

Then comes heavy rain, hail, and lightning. "The actual tornado is way down the list," he said.

Carroll, a Roanoke native and Blacksburg resident who teaches meteorology classes at Pulaski High School, has been chasing storms in the Midwest since the 1980s. Several times in the last decade, he has taken a small group of local high school and college students with him.

Carroll will be leading a group of eight students — four from Virginia Tech, four from Pulaski High School — on a week-long storm chasing trip beginning Friday.

The storm chasing Carroll and his group do is not daredevil stuff. It's serious science and a public service. The students look at each day's weather data and, as a group, decide where to go that day to have the best chance of intercepting severe thunderstorms. Also, Carroll's crew acts as storm spotters, helping local officials and the National Weather Service track severe weather.

The group will be traveling in two vans equipped with wireless Internet, two-way radios between the vehicles, CB radios, NOAA weather radio and police scanners.

Last year, Carroll recalls that the chasers were following a storm in Texas when they heard on a radio that a tornado had been spotted in it. An official asked over the radio if there was another spotter near the storm to confirm the sighting. Once Carroll and his fellow chasers got past a grove of trees — "the only trees in Texas," somebody can be heard joking on a videotape playback of the chase -- they were able to report back and confirm the sighting.

"Five seconds later, the weather radio goes off and there's a tornado warning. Ten seconds later, we hear the sirens go off in the town down the road from us," he said, referring to the tornado warning sirens many Midwestern towns use.

Last year's chase was one of Carroll's most successful, with one tornado spotted and photographed and thunderstorms pursued every day of the trip. Most years, there are some days when there are no storms to chase, and the group takes in tourist destinations like Carlsbad Caverns instead. While there are almost always thunderstorms somewhere to go after, tornado encounters are rare, and there's always a slight chance of a dull, stormless week. All part of the adventure, chasers say.

"If you catch a big fish every time you go fishing, then nobody would ever want to go," said Seth Price, a senior material sciences and engineering major at Virginia Tech who is responsible for the group's radio equipment.

Price has set up a way for you to follow the group's progress: At www. n3mra.com, the group's position will be pinpointed on a radar map, showing how close it is getting to storms. We'll set up a link on roanoke.com to help you follow the group's chase.

One hail of a storm

Sometimes, the chaser doesn't go to the storms, but the storms come to him. Carroll said that returning from Richmond on Sunday, he encountered two severe hailstorms: One in Bedford County near Montvale, the other as he approached his home in Blacksburg.

A number of you, particularly in Montgomery and Bedford counties, experienced severe weather on Sunday. Because of thunderstorms' slow movement, some places received hail for a long period of time, causing enough to accumulate to cover the ground in some areas.

The thunderstorms that developed over the area on Sunday were "pulse-type" thunderstorms. These storms form rapidly from updrafts and then collapse even more rapidly. When they collapse, they bring an enormous push of wind, heavy rain and hail. The updrafts were caused by afternoon heating and enhanced by the area's mountainous geography. When the sun went down, the heat source for the updrafts was turned off, and the storms soon died.

David Wert, chief meteorologist at the National Weather Service in Blacksburg, said that dry air aloft in the storm caused cold air to dip unusually low as moist downdrafts were pulled through it. This enabled hail to form much lower to the ground than would normally be expected in moderately intense May thunderstorms, and as a result, much more of it was able to reach the ground.

The "heat dome" high pressure area I talked about last week is still over us and will give us a summerlike week. But while this big tent high in the atmosphere will keep a lot of the big birds from swooping down on us, a few flies and mosquitoes will be able to get under it. With this kind of warmth, any small bug in the atmosphere can kick off a few "pulse-type" storms.

May 6, 2004

BUILDING HEAT

You've heard of the Blue Ridge. How about the "heat ridge?"

Between the severe weather outbreaks of spring and the brunt of hurricane season in the fall, often the only burning question in the weather world is whether a heat ridge will build.

We could see a little version of it over the next few days.

A strong high pressure ridge over the southeastern United States promises to bring us a few days of warm, dry weather. A cold front will try its hardest to sneak in from the north and trigger thunderstorms on Saturday, but as of this writing, it looks like the high will be strong enough to keep the front away.

A high pressure area is a mound of stable air that sinks toward the ground, thereby cutting off the rising air or convection that could cause showers and thunderstorms to form.

In the bigger picture, high pressure areas are boulders in the stream that air must flow around. The stormy stuff goes around highs, not through them.

In winter, high pressure systems sinking down from Canada bring some of our coldest weather. But the more vigorous winter jet stream keeps these highs on the move, and the cold air they bring moderates with each day of sunshine.

In warmer seasons, highs often develop from the south or southwest, allowing warm air to expand northward. As the jet stream begins retreating north for the summer, the highs also have more of a tendency to stay put, and this allows the air under them to heat with day after day of sunshine.

In summer, a high can get stuck for many weeks, and the air under it stagnates, becoming progressively more hot and hazy. This is often called a "heat ridge" or "heat dome." Its size, duration and location determine what kind of summer it will be for various locations around the continent.

In most summers, two or three of these "heat domes" build at different times, but they shift around and occasionally get knocked down by stronger cold fronts from the northwest.

Many summers a sizeable heat dome will build over one part of the country and stick around for at least a couple of weeks. When this happens, a portion of the nation will experience a heat wave with many days of temperatures at or above 100 degrees. Perhaps once every 20 years or so, a massive heat dome will cover more than half of the country for several weeks. These are years of massive heat waves and droughts that engulf many states.

Were it summer, with a weaker jet stream, an even higher sun angle and longer days, this weekend's high might build into a longer lasting heat dome. It will be enough for some summerish days into early next week. Questions linger about just how long this high will hold before the next cold front is able to move through and bring showers and thunderstorms and some cooler air.

It does appear that the forces arrayed against the high will be too strong for it to hold long. Or it may reposition itself west or south just enough to allow storms to start spilling over the top of it at us by the early or middle part of next week.

Still, there's a thought in the back of a weather geek's mind about whether this is a sign of an early trend, and whether we'll be seeing more and bigger heat ridges before very many more weeks have passed.

May 3, 2004

LET COOLER HEADS PREVAIL ON HEATED DEBATE

You won't see me weighing in on the global warming debate very often in this column.

That's because my focus is on the whims and wonders of day-to-day weather, not speculations over large-scale climate patterns decades and centuries from now.

There's so little rational discourse on the subject -- merely a heated exchage between those who are cocksure certain Roanoke will have the climate of Phoenix or Miami in 50 years and those who deny all possibility that there could ever be such a thing as human-affected global warming and insist that we should pump the atmosphere full of whatever pollution we see fit.

My one lasting statement on the issue is this: It's ignorant to say mankind's activities have absolutely no effect on weather and climate; it's arrogant to say mankind's activities are the primary driver of weather and climate.

What brings it to mind today is a pair of articles that appear on page 18 of Sunday's "A" section of The Roanoke Times, discussing the drought and warming that has been observed of late in the Western states. The implication in one of the Associated Press articles seems to be that five years of drought and spiking temperatures in the West are strong evidence, if not outright proof, for human-induced global warming.

The problem with suggesting this is that it's a partial glimpse into a tiny interval of time over a small portion of the planet. The article fails to mention that, while the West has fried and dried especially in the last couple of years, the East has shivered and shuddered under abnormally cool, wet conditions in some of the same time period. It was one of the coldest Januarys on record in the Northeast, according to the National Climatic Data Center, and the winters of 2002-03 and '03-04 have been the coldest consecutive winters in Virginia in nearly 30 years, according to the Virginia State Climatology Office.

But just as a short- or mid-term hot period in the West does not prove global warming, neither does a cold spell in the East disprove it. The severe heat wave last summer that killed more than 10,000 in Europe does not prove global warming, but neither does the severe cold wave in Eastern Europe and the Middle East that caused snow in Athens and Jerusalem disprove it.

Weather is variable whatever the overall climate structure. The trick is to follow large-scale temperature averages over a long period of time. What the data seem to show is an average worldwide temperature increase of about 1 degree Celsius (1.8 degrees Fahrenheit) over the course of the 20th century. Many scientists theorize that this is primarily or entirely due to greenhouse gases ejected into atmosphere by man, while others say that it is a natural climate cycle as the planet emerges from the centuries-long "Little Ice Age" that ended in the 1800s. Perhaps it is both, a natural cycle enhanced by man's pollution.

It gets more complicated when one considers that, even if global warming is occurring, its effects on day-to-day weather in given locations are uncertain. Global warming does not mean every single place on Earth gets warmer, but just that the overall planet's average temperature gets warmer. That could mean shifting ocean and air currents that make some locations get colder.

So that's my primer on global warming. When the computer models start nailing the weather perfectly 12 hours from now, I'll take them more seriously in what they show a century from now. In the meantime, can we cool the arguing and try to find some ways not to fill the air with so much bad stuff?

HOT AND COLD

Following a column about cold snaps and heat waves, I should note that we are likely to have both over the next few days. You're probably experiencing the cold snap as you read this on Tuesday, and some of you in the deep valleys to the west of Roanoke may even have frost or sub-freezing temperatures. By the weekend, though, high pressure builds in and could send our temperatures soaring into the 80s. We'll follow up on this later in the week.