The Manchester South Dakota Tornado Intercept of June 24th, 2003 

by Karen E. Rhoden

Excerpt;
This chase account will come to you in a much different format that you are used to.  In it I follow my tradition of spending much more time and thought on my writings, concentrating on the spiritual, unique and enlightening aspects of the chase, rather than the usual explanations of atmospheric conditions and situations that arose to bring us this spectacular outbreak day.  It will concentrate on my own personal feelings through the day, our team members, and how I viewed things through the eyes of a chaser, photographer and writer – unqualified in all respects.

Words expressed here are either directly as the event happened in real-life, or my own direct feelings as a result of that case.  Views are entirely my own and how I felt about this day, it’s events and the people I was involved with.

Now.........please readjust your posture, get comfortable.........and indulge yourself in the entire experience of a virtual chase in words from the date of the twenty-fourth day of June in this year Two-Thousand and Three.

This paper and all photographs contained herein are strictly ©/All Rights Reserved Karen E. & Gene D. Rhoden.  Photographs and material may not be re-published, broadcast, re-written, or re-distributed, whether for profit or non-profit purposes, without first gaining prior express written consent.
People images are ©/All Rights Reserved Carl Young, 2004.

Tuesday, June 24^th 2003…York, Nebraska…..10.00am….
The Comfort Inn on Main St……..

I limped in the general direction of our red Ford Expedition with three camera bags on my left shoulder and my personal hold all on my right – cursing my insistence upon bringing more supplies of everything than I ever would need.  Gene followed me out of the door after handing in our room keys to the desk clerk, and out into the hot parking lot.  Gradually, one by one, the rest of our team surfaced from the lobby doors also.  Tim, Pat and Carl all appeared.  We clustered around our two vehicles – Gene and I unable to load up as Carsten Peter the National Geographic photographer was still in the shower and hadn’t checked out yet.  Anyways – he wasn’t here – and so we had to stand around talking.  This also gave us a good opportunity to talk forecasts and target areas.  In the back of all our heads was the fact that this mission had already been extended by two days – Carsten’s time was running out – and he had still to accomplish getting any reasonable photos.  The stress of a demanding National Geographic was on his – and our - shoulders.  There had been one event earlier this year – on May 15^th near Stratford Texas – where Tim had been able to deploy probes.  With the help of Anton Seimon, Tim managed to deploy and get a direct hit on one of his probes.  This was a noteworthy event - as this was the first time ever that an "In-Situ" measurement was taken at the same time that mobile radar was sampling the storm (Wurman, et.al..). 

The probes sat happily in their wooden box in Tim’s van, watching all us humans muse about what we were going to do today. 
I didn’t catch too much of the target area discussion – as the heat was strangling me and all I wanted to do was get into an air conditioned vehicle and go for some breakfast (which by now would be lunch).  But I do know that Gene’s unconditional target area as far as he was concerned for today was southeast South Dakota at an initial look at things this morning.  The warm front that was attendant to this powerful system we had been playing for days was hanging around up there this morning and was due to sweep east through the whole general area by this evening.  Looking at data – we saw the hellish cold front advancing like the end of a vacation towards us.  Chadron Nebraska at this point in time was in the 50’s……yikes! Gene thought that Mitchell was a nice idea for the start of the day – and voiced this opinion.  I think Tim’s target area for the day had been in Nebraska – he was liking staying around the Broken Bow area and waiting for initiation.  I saw Gene physically grimace at this – not liking the initial conflict of target areas.  Carl got out his video camera and began taking some more footage of us debating – as he had been doing for most of the trip – he was quite dedicated to that.  I heard a few more pieces of forecast-talk and then Carl drew out a map – unraveling it on the hood of Tim’s van to make the decision making a bit easier.  After a while of deliberation – and waiting for the German to get out of the shower – and roasting under the cloudless skies and beating sun and hideously high dewpoints – I think the decision was made that we would begin driving north on Hwy 281 towards O’Neill and see where we were at by that time as far as atmospherics were concerned.

Finally Carsten appeared – with his silver film cases and duffle bags and film jackets that held secret supplies of Velvia at all times……with the truck keys.  We all breathed a sigh of relief – at this time it was 11.30am – and the idea was brought up of where to catch a bite to eat.  
I immediately produced a brochure for a place that I had found information on in the hotel room that morning whilst idly flicking through papers waiting on Gene showering.  It was in downtown York – not far away – and it was very highly spoke of.  It had a famous buffet – too – that always sits well with chasers on the go.  And so we saddled up, packed up, hoisted ourselves into our cramped vehicles and headed to a little English-pub-style restaurant for breakfast/lunch.  Only after the fact did I realise that the Restaurant was called “Chances “R””. 

Chances “R” sat nestled in quaint downtown York – and it was a welcome pit-stop for us chasers. 
I sat in the nicely dimmed restaurant beside the window, watching Carsten as he dug into a mountain of food and “fruits”.  They offered fresh salmon on the buffet – for goodness sake!  But I didn’t really feel relaxed.  Everybody else seemed capable of laughing and joking – why was I feeling melancholy?  In hindsight, I think the pure fact of the date was making me – and Gene – more than a little “twitchy”. 
Then...something seems to happen...on those big tornado days...do you ever notice? There's a little quirk here, a small coincidence there...hard to pick up on but all very intertwined with a higher force which I believe is guiding those who are destined to see historical events.
The calendar date was already making us nervous - being June 24th - a year and a day ago today that my husband and I were lucky enough to witness the incredible Brown County supercell and its six tornadoes in South Dakota. Earlier that afternoon, on June 23rd 2002, we made a desperate call for data in a quirky bar called the "Fallout Shelter" – that place seemed to have been placed there right for us. 
And so we turn to June 24th 2003 - the date already seemed to have a ring to it.   We were sitting here in the quirky little “Chances “R”” restaurant. 

My thoughts were interrupted and I was jolted back to reality by our team deciding that – since it was after noon – we really should get a move on.  The bills were settled and we all made for the door rather quickly to get on with the drive.  I had not too many fond thoughts of the journey ahead as I clambered back up into the ungainly Expedition, and positioned myself next to the ’Swirl” (National Geographic’s aluminum welded photo-probe). 

The drive through the semi-sandhills terrain was – as usual – uneventful as far as landscape was concerned.  Just very desolate……which encourages one to be prone to inner thoughts and musings.  About halfway towards O’Neill I started looking out the windows in a different way.  Behind us still looked uninteresting……but ahead and to the east and west of us began to show some signs of the ethereal life of convection.  Our drive northwards was spurred on by the strong low-level jet that tugged at the dry grass which held on to the semi-dunes at the side of the road.  Some pieces of sand I could swear were almost lifted up and taken blowing across the road in front of us.  And the clouds…..the blue sky was now patterned with ragged, torn-up cumulus…….the clouds and turkey-towers almost displayed their physical pain as they went up and immediately got ripped to shreds by the upper winds.  I didn’t want to think this because I was so tired……but the sky looked like a tornado day.
About 10 miles south of O’Neill, we pulled off the road on the right hand side and stopped our vehicles to evaluate the conditions.  Tim possessed all the data online in his vehicle – and Gene immediately got out to go and examine things.  Carsten went with him.  Tim greeted Gene with “I don’t really think there’s any question of where to go”. I decided not to go and crowd around in the hot south wind – because I didn’t really need to know what was going on.  I could look up above my head.  I could smell strange things on the wind – the moisture – the sand mixed in as the southerly gale pushed me on my feet.  To my northeast mainly – away in the distance – I could see already the telltale signs.  Some towers were not quite so “turkey-like” anymore – their small unobtrusive crystal white tops leaning over in the right direction, and betraying their true nature to my eyes……perhaps not to the lesser experienced or the public.  God I wished I wasn’t so tired.  The wind played with my hair and flung it around my eyes – obscuring the clouds from my view.  Cursing I climbed back into the air-conditioned Expedition and saw the others break up.   We continued…..

Making it painstakingly through O’Neill – even I wanted to hurry up now.  As we cleared the town to the north and carried on our treck, I dug out my walkman from my bag amidst the clutter in the trunk behind me.  One of my Yes tapes was in it – and I spoilt myself with some Yes music for half an hour or so.  Songs like “Long Distance Runaround”, “Starship Trooper” and “Survival” brought back a lot of memories – and were always great to play to either relax or enliven your demeanor. But at some point – as we crossed over the Nebraska/South Dakota border – I lost interest in the mood-stirring music.  In the front, Gene and Carsten were having some mock-argument about how on earth Gene could look up and point out the fact that we had a tornado-sky today – the German not believing that we could ever classify such a thing and didn’t believe Gene.  He scoffed at Gene’s “tornado-sky”, as I looked out again at the smorgasbord of corkscrewing exploding cu, “fists-of-God” and erect congestus on our northern horizon.  Gene’s forecast had been pinpoint accurate.  I could sense Gene’s increasing unease, increasing need to be up there – his eyes sometimes spending more time on the northeastern horizon than the road he was driving on. My hands were idle, and so I decided to open my camera bag, get out my 50mm lens (my "tornado lens" as Gene calls it) and check everything over.  Fortunately for me I did - as I found a half-used mystery film in my SLR.  Not wanting to have this in there on a possible tornado day, I ripped this film out and started afresh with new Provia.  Next, I took some lens paper from one of the pockets in my bag that Hank had given me from his shop at home in Yukon, and fell to polishing all my lenses - paying particular attention to my 50mm Canon one.  Satisfied that all was clean and ready if need be, I placed all my equipment back in its place.

Passing the Lake Andes area, by this time, we were having atmospheric explosions to our north and northeast. It was so incredibly awe-inspiring, storms going up in the perfect warm-front/outflow boundary environment with the perfect shear and instability. The vigorous towers and cells were distant to us, appearing as ruling Kings on their thrones, and in the foreground we had the “tornado-day” tradition of torn-up towers and pieces of cumulus rocketing northward with us.  The crystalline white of the shredded stuff near us allowed the true colour of the real explosions to our north to stand out – and this was when I noticed they were orange. Beautiful, golden-tinged castles - setting up their battlements in the atmosphere.  There was – quite purely – nothing wrong with these towers and developing storms.  It was as simple as that.  Not like some days when you say “well it looks a bit mushy” or “well it’s not quite in the right area” – today these storms were perfect.  Textbook.  Classic.  Their prowess in examples of perfect explosive convection was not lost on me – and that is why I am spending such time writing about it here.
We believed that they appeared orange because of the high-level traces of smoke that were carrying over the area from the wildfires in progress over Arizona.  This added yet another eerie element to the day – as we continued to creep steadily northwards – passing through the Armour and Douglas County areas – under the unending gaze of these golden giants.  On even dared to start to develop anvil material – this increased our pace – the sickening feeling that we were late once again starting to creep into our minds.

At some point here I do remember Hank Baker calling – I think – it was nice to hear from a friend at home when we were so far away.  I think Hank was just making sure we were on the right tracks today.  I smiled inwardly…..with Gene in the driver’s seat and anywhere within two states of a day like this - we were unlikely not to be. Tim’s voice then came over the radio to us.  ”Looks like we have one storm already in progress – just to the west of Mitchell” Our teeth were all set on edge – hearing that initiation had started.  I decided to scrabble about in the back with all the wires – hook up Gene’s laptop and see if I could get a small radar picture.  Over the next 20 minutes or so I accomplished this task – the Sioux Falls radar showing it up nicely.  However the storm was still very small – in it’s infancy – and only appeared as a tiny blip on radar. 
Tim came back on the radar abruptly. “According to the latest, Mitchell’s ob is eighty over seventy-four, east at ten.”
I felt my hackles rise at my husband’s silence in reply to this.  Carsten looked at Gene expectantly.  Gene replied.
”That’ll work”.
Carsten dutifully corresponded Gene’s input back to Tim via the radio.
”Ya – Gene says that vill vork….”
We grinned at Carsten's German accent as we scanned around for a small town somewhere on the road ahead to get gas - as we decided that it would be prudent to do this before reaching I-90 and the action area.
Hwy 281 after Armour jogs west then comes into the town of Corsica.  It was here - just south of the Interstate, that we decided to gas up before the chase proper.
Pulling into the gas station, my thoughts turned to food - as hungry as I was at this hour.  Gene brought the Expedition to a halt in front of one of the pumps - as our convoy took over the whole entire gas station's forecourt. 
Stopping the vehicle, Gene got out - closely followed by a clamour of bells, beeps and jangles as the truck let him know that he both had the engine running, his seatbelt off, his door open and his lights still on.  Amidst all the chorus of irritating noises, I jumped out also.  Carsten got out lethargically, shaking his head.
"Ahhhh.....dis American shit, ya........"
We both grinned at him - Carsten had a deep hatred for all American vehicles and their ridiculous, paranoid beeps and bells. 
I stretched my back in the sunlight and looked around me after the long drive.  Deciding I was definitely hungry and seeing that Gene had gone over to Tim's vehicle to look at data, I made my way into the gas station's store. 
Inside it was pleasantly cool and darker.....and I was faced with the usual shelves of chips, granola bars and cokes.  I pondered for a while, and watched as Carsten also appeared in the shop and bought a few things.  I couldn't decide what to buy myself to snack on.....but then my ponderings were cut short.  Carl appeared at the door of the gas station - flailing about wildly with his shades and video camera.  He thumbed behind him.
"Let's go…..it's TW!!!"
I stopped and looked at the empty doorway where he had stood a second beforehand, my mind slowly trying to comprehend what exactly he was talking about.  I came to the conclusion that he must mean that the early storm of the day up by Mt Vernon was now tornado-warned, and we were going after it.  Not wanting to hold up the mission - and knowing that we still had quite a bit of driving to do to get up there, I dumped my supplies of grain bars and drinks and sprinted out to the truck again - ignoring my hunger.  Carsten was still at the register paying for all our gas - and he followed me out in equal haste.  I swung myself ungainly back into the Expedition as everybody began assembling again at a much faster pace.  Tim packed up all of his data and got himself back into his driver's seat.  With all our bodies back where they belong, we blazed a trail out of the gas station and back onto Hwy 281 headed north towards Stickney and Plankinton. 

All three of our vehicles were now buzzing with data exchange and collection.  Gene's cellphone rung again - this time it was Dave Gold (whose South Dakota plights two years in a row will not be mentioned here).  Dave was calling to see where we were, make sure we were headed on the right course, and to relay Roger Hill's report of a large tornado on the ground just northwest of Mitchell.  Gene took note of his reports, thanked him thoroughly for all his help, and hung off.  All too slowly we came upon Plankinton, and planted ourselves on the Interstate headed east - Tim wanted to go and seek out the Mitchell storm and what it had to offer.  Driving on the Interstate, both my eyes and Gene's strayed to a particular pile of convective explosions to our northwest.  There was very little if any anvil material associated with this juvenile updraft, but Gene was able to identify the mushrooming and exploding nature of it.  This updraft was already rotating, and it apparently had a beaver's tail - these updrafts today were not wasting any time in developing supercellular characteristics early in their lifecycles - this one before it had even produced an anvil cloud!  This storm-to-be seemed to be around the area of Lane/Wessington Springs.  We scanned up ahead for the Mitchell storm - slightly unimpressed with what we saw over there.  But we were headed east and so we had to at least get to Mitchell and then turn north. 
Dave Gold called Gene back on his cellphone, asking where we were at so far.  Gene advised him of the new convective explosions which really had his attentions to our northwest.  He described the lame appearance of the Mitchell cell, and relayed information and recommendations to Dave to tell Roger Hill to go after this new development.  My own mind began thinking - strangely enough - about Sean Casey and Jennifer in the TIV.  I was concerned as to whether they were up in the area today - knowing that this was more than likely their last chance day too.  I extracted my own cellphone from the rubble of bags that accompanied me in the back seat of the truck, and dialed Sean's number.  He answered pretty quickly, and I told him it was Karen on the phone and I was just concerned as to where he was at today.  Sean replied.
"Uh......we are in Mitchell."
I smiled.
"Alright - that's all I needed to know - great to know you're in the area Sean - take care!"
With that we hung off. 
Next Carsten leaned back over his seat and looked at me, smiled guiltily.
"Can you.........please?"
He gestured at his bags, but I was already in motion - so used was I to travelling with him and his organisational habits.  First of all I handed him his little "film vest" as I call it - a small vest jacket that held many secret pockets in which he liked to carry endless supplies of Velvia.  He donned that, and I then handed him his red waterproof jacket.  He also got that over his shoulders and done up.  I then passed forward to him his silver camera bag which he slung over his shoulder, and one other black bag that probably held lenses and different equipment. 
I had just had the honour of suiting-up a National Geographic photographer for a tornado encounter.........

Finally our northerly turn came up at Mitchell, and we eagerly took Hwy 37 north to get a look at things more closely.   

We blasted north, following Tim feverishly - Carl behind us.  We finally got far enough north - near the turn off for Letcher - when we could see what was going on atmospherically.  Looking at the Mitchell storm as it was almost overhead, we shook our heads in disbelief almost - as we had feared we were too late.  The shriveled remnants of the supercell were splayed out up in the heavens for all to see it's demise......as it chicken-necked out, leaving the atmosphere tropically steamy in it's footprints.  Our spirits were dampened slightly, as we saw numerous other spotters and the odd chaser who had been on the storm from earlier times and had stopped at the side of the road now things were winding down - until our minds started to remember the young cell which had been going up to our northwest from the Interstate - which was now directly to our west - which we had never really forgotten about.......and our eyes turned that way......... 

And there it was.  Probably lying just south of the town of Woonsocket at the moment - sat our supercell.  There was not even any questioning as to whether that was where we should be headed......as the base presented itself about 15 miles away - low and well lit and rain free and rotating.  The wall cloud stood out like a premonition of things to come.......as out of nowhere from vapour in front of our noses a perfect, laminar beaver's tail seemed to instantaneously form and start the tell-tale conveyor belt motion, to feed the "lean" monster to our west.  Things changed in a hurry.  Gene got on the radio - signalling on no uncertain terms that we needed to be under that base NOW if we were to make the most of our last day (last day.......where have I heard that before.....?).  Of course, nobody was likely to disagree - Tim echoed Gene's urgency - and with his GPS guided us, straining at the speed limit, towards Woonsocket South Dakota. Not needing to be told, I immediately unzipped all of Gene's camera bags and also placed all of Carsten's so that they were on-hand easily.  Leaning forward and contorting myself around the damned "swirl", I passed Gene his video camera. He was grateful for this and checked it over and switched it on whilst also driving.  Finally - as an afterthought - I managed to unbutton my own old camera bag, extract the trusty Canon with it's "tornado lens" on and Provia in (I was sure not making the same mistake with Velvia today as I did on May 15th) and sat with it in my lap, waiting.   

Passing through Forestburg on Hwy 34 and turning northwestwards, we quickened our pace even a bit more.  Watching glimpses of the wall cloud and lowering when it was not obscured by trees or other traffic, we saw almost in slow-motion the "nub" start - almost June 9th-esque in it's slow, deliberate descent.  Gradually working it's way out of the wall cloud came the tornado - granting us all a few minutes of notice before it touched down.  Also - we were still too far away to be able to discern any of the finer motions of rotation within the wall cloud or vortex - and so the tornado's slow birth made it easier on us as we busted west frantically to try to get into position.  We had to close 10 miles on this storm - and made a damn good attempt at it.  Once again straining at the speed limit we travelled - encountering the usual mid-chase traffic hazards such as sightseeing tractor-trailers, local yokels and Sunday drivers on Tuesday. Carsten had already begun to sort through his film vest, his hands expertly laying themselves on rolls of Velvia which appeared from various different pockets.  Testing and interchanging lenses, he tested light meters and film speeds and found himself with FINALLY enough time to do his job semi-properly, even though we were still in a moving vehicle which he hated working from.

The Woonsocket tornado touched down - a perfect, large, healthy elephant's trunk.  We got onto a straight piece of road down which we could see the tornado perfectly - it was almost as if we were lining it up in our sights.  The vortex meandered northwards - probably crossing our road about 6 miles or so up ahead.  We quickened our speed again.  Gene was doing his best to film whilst driving - I felt thoroughly sorry for him though - knowing his passion for these enigmatic vortices and also realizing that he could not possibly hope to fully enjoy this experience when we were constantly trying to "deploy" in the path of a tornado. 

My own perspiring, cold hands managed to work my own camera and shoot off a few frames as we closed in on the tornado - perhaps by 4 miles or so now.  I breathed heavily, feeling the chills of tornado-encounter start run through me again - the first time since June 9th really.  I did my best to prepare myself for whatever it was we were about to do.
Carsten - of course - started his legendary "80% of his body hanging out the window" trick to get some photography done - he probably got shots of Tim's vehicle in the foreground driving towards the tornado - I don't know.  I do know that the air rushing in from his open window smacked me in the face and caught my breath away on numerous occasions - and the occasional raindrop stung my eye as it hit me at 80mph. The cloudtop of the tornado seemed to loom over us at last - at last?  The area we were in had a lot of trees - and so I could only really guess at what the base looked like.  As we passed some barns and houses, I took a few more shots - making sure that my light meter was working and that I was getting a good reading.  I was.  Due to the combined facts that I was using Provia film, and I had a 50mm fast lens on - I was able to succeed in getting shutter speeds of 250/500ths of a second.  For the first time in my chasing career when dealing with a tornado, I was satisfied that these images would turn out.  Tim drove onwards - it was clear that he was trying to find a section road to turn off onto.  Just before Woonsocket we found a dirt road that would take us north then west then north again - paralleling the tornado.  As our three vehicles rumbled onto the dirt I mumbled something nervously.........I didn't like the dirt road aspect of this encounter.  Indeed, we had not even got to the first curve in the road to take us west when the dirt road turned into a freshly-rained-on-mud-road.  Huge divots were already carved out in the track from whatever vehicle had traveled before us - the dark black mud making us fishtail quite extensively.  As an afterthought Gene put the vehicle on four-wheel drive - which probably helped slightly - but we still found ourselves sliding about the place.  Tim made the curve west in the road - Carsten laughed and pointed out that his white van was no longer the original colour.  Gene hauled the Expedition through the curve with difficulty - only just making it without sliding into the ditch.  Of course - we were safe from the tornado - we were just in the RFD and the sunlight began to glint through.  But the apparition we were chasing was still marching on northwards - and that was where we were going. 
We lost Carl in his Sedan - he got trapped in the mud and couldn't get out on that one bend.  We would not meet up with Carl again until after this chase day was over........

   My eyes finally turned back to the tornado - as occupied as I had been with the road conditions for so long. 
"Oh my God......."
I had never been within this proximity of a tornado before - not even on June 9th, which I had thought was pretty close.  We were now in that "magic area" - that area which Gene had told me tales of ever since we had been chasing together.  That magic area whereby.......when you are that close to the tornado......everything comes alive.  It is no longer something "pretty " or "graceful" dancing on the horizon a few miles away.  The vortex was travelling with us, to our left - to our direct west, venting it's fury willfully.  We were now down and dirty with it.  Violence.  Motion.  Danger.  Presence.  Fear.  Awe.  Understanding.   

The tornado was there to our west - about 1/4 of a mile away - and churning its way through what looked to me like a freshly ploughed field.  The tornado was black now - and in our closeness and unique position to it we actually had the tornado backlit by crystalline white towers and deep blue sky.  This made for some striking photography. And this tornado sure had it's own personality.  A fine spray of black dirt was being atomized at ground level and flung up violently into the air around the circulation - which contrasted even more with the blue sky in the background.  It took tonnes of dirt - as it had nothing more to work with - and sprayed it out into varying levels of the atmosphere around itself.  It was a fine elephant's trunk - perhaps slightly smaller than it had started out now that we were finally on it.  We continued driving and mercifully on our turn north our road turned back to solid gravel instead of mud.  We blasted north again.  Tim signalled to us on the radio that we were going to try and go for this one - although I think we were all dubious about being able to deploy on a tornado so small unfortunately.  As we drove further north we raced the tornado - getting closer and closer to our paths crossing.  It was now only one tree line separated from us - perhaps 200 yards - screaming in the adjacent field with it's fury and power.  It affected me - a lot.  I couldn't get its image out of my view - always in the window across the truck from me and always there with it's violent motions.  Never having been this close before - I now realise looking back at the moment that I lost all comprehension of distance,  I could not tell where the tornado was in relation to us - or it's movement or heading.  I looked at Gene in earnest.
"What are we doing?  Should we be going this far up here......?"
I asked - my palette thick with my dry tongue.   
We continued to drive on feverishly.  Gene looked back (Tim was doing exactly the same in his vehicle) at the tornado, made a quick calculation.
"Yep - we've got it."
He said, his own lips tight, his own voice strained.....although he still knew what was going on. I didn't.  I looked dumbly at Gene, and then back at the tornado which was now slightly to our south-southwest.  I began to get upset - so close to imminent danger right there in the field next to us.  I felt - in my frame of mind - like hysterically retorting back 'what the bloody hell does "we've got it" mean???!?'.  But I didn't.  That wouldn't have helped very much in our current situation.  I kept my mouth firmly shut, but my eyes wouldn't follow-suit.

Tim brought our convoy to a halt abruptly, and he instantly jumped out of his van and unloaded a probe.  Carsten also ejected himself from our truck to do his job.  In amongst the fear and anxiety and confusion I almost felt uplifted - at last - Carsten was getting his shot - the expedition had not been a complete waste of time.  The tornado rumbled towards us - about 200 yards away to our south and going due north.  Mindful of possible path deviations during the end of a tornado's life cycle, we did not linger too long.  Tim flicked one small switch on the underside of the probe, and placed the bright orange, shallow cone-type device on the side of the road.  The tornado closed in even more as Carsten finally hopped in with us - smiling broadly.  Gene floored it, shouting "Let's go!!!" twice to Tim out his window (you can hear this moment on the National Geographic Ultimate Explorer program that has been aired). Our vehicles strained at their accelerators again to put distance between the vortex and us - which was now right there in the opposite field. 
I discovered that I had lost the use of enthusiasm to take photographs - I couldn't even bring myself to get out of the vehicle when we stopped a second and third time to deploy.  As long as Gene got out to take some video and stuff - I would be able to justify to myself a few moments of refuge in the vehicle, a result of pure fear coursing through my veins.  'Some storm chaser I am', I thought in my mind of minds.   Finally - during our third stop - I heard Gene confirm that it was dissipating.  I was half-in-half-out of the vehicle, and I decided to shakily place both feet on the road like some newborn animal........my camera still slung over my shoulder in case I needed it again.  Tim and Gene pointed and grinned.
"Look - here it comes!"
A tiny circulation of fog and leaves danced towards us - directly straddling the road.  It huffed and puffed and found the strength occasionally to move some twigs and dust in its death-throes.  In hindsight this was extremely comical - at the moment itself I was still apprehensive.  The large redundant funnel still hung overhead - I felt like God Himself was watching me.  As the tiny multiple-vortex circulation weakened Gene said merrily.
"It's going to go right over us!"
I think I tried to look enthusiastic about a tornadic circulation going "right over me".  It was hard, but indeed when it came upon us it was like a wet breeze for five seconds......enough to ruffle my hair......then it had passed.  The Woonsocket tornado was dead.   

Carsten leapt about on the road - enthused with the recent close encounter and taking photographs of Tim recovering each probe in succession.  We walked about in the sunlight directly after that tornado had dissipated - the sunlight was warm and comforting and reassuring.  A small rain of shredded grass and mud settled over our area - coating us all with a small amount of tornado debris.  The smell - oh the smell!  I think I had smelled this on June 23rd last year.  Gene savored it, too.  Overturned earth and shredded vegetation.  Tim methodically annotated each probe and recorded the GPS position of it.  We watched and filmed Tim recovering all of the probes..........in this brief moment of calm.  He was despondent about not being able to deploy successfully.  My eyes began straying to the east.......to our east.......to the supercell that was drifting away from us.  It almost looked as if it was all over - the only cumulus I could see in the sunlight were low-topped and unimpressive.  I pointed this out to Gene and he - once again - showed me the dark side of the storm - and the rock hard explosions that were happening under the anvil in the grayness.  This storm was still very much alive. 
We discussed the situation as we drove back south towards Hwy 34.  Carsten really wanted to go and look at any damage from the tornado that we could find, and spoke about this with Tim on the radio.  Horrified Gene took the mike from him and talked to Tim. "Ummm.......today isn't over and I REALLY think that we oughta carry on and follow this storm." Of course Tim agreed with Gene wholeheartedly in that - if there were other tornado chances this day - we should pursue them.  Carsten asked me if I would replenish his supply of Velvia - and I bent over the side of the back seat and with all my might extracted his heavy box of film from under camera bags and the swirl.  I rummaged through rolls and rolls or Provia until I found one or two boxes of Velvia - and handed him six or seven.  Making it back to Hwy 34 we drove swiftly east again.  We took a slightly different set of roads - taking a GPS shortcut onto some more good gravel roads to try and make time on the supercell.  This was in an area of no towns and very little discernable roads - which is why we were on gravel.  We traveled east, and then north.  In the spray of rain with the supercell about 20 miles away a rainbow appeared - directly under where the meso would be (it was hard to see as the storm was SO far away by now).  But Gene was the eyes for our vehicle, and he strained to see into the storm as the sunlight shone on the backside.  He radioed to Tim on the airwaves.
"You know it might just be me but I think I see a tornado in there."
There was silence for a few minutes - the Tim came back.
"Yup........I think you may be right."
Even me - when I looked over in the direction in which they were talking - thought I saw something in there - something pretty suspicious and tube-like.  If we were able to see it at all it would be due to the fact that part of the tornado was in sunlight - light that was being let in by the RFD cleft. 
We carried on driving - determined - as moderate rain started.  We were now directly west of the storm by perhaps 10 miles.  Tim took us on the GPS on a north turn - and we drove up to Hwy 14  - coming out just east of Cavour and west of Iroquois.  We were closing in on the slow-moving giant. 
Getting on terra firma, we blasted east as fast as we could possibly achieve.  The hook of the storm presented itself to us - at first as a moderate rain again.  Tim radioed to us all.  "I'm sorry but we may have to get some hail in here."
Everybody acknowledged that back to him - and we braced ourselves to come through the hook of what was - most likely - still a tornadic supercell on what we now suspected was a major outbreak day. 

As expected we lost our visibility, and got enclosed in the precipitation for a few minutes.  The cab of the truck turned dull and dark.  Everybody fell into an uneasy silence - all of us knowing only too well what we were doing here - we were in hook.  I fingered nervously with my camera and adjusted a few things after the Woonsocket event, and wondered at the back of my mind what the rest of the chase may hold.  Polishing off my lens, I sat things down and pondered, and took a sip or two from my bottle of stale spring water.  Though we were in the hook of the storm – the hail never really came – really.  We were expecting a formidable opposition from the elements in here – yet all we got at worst was a few clicks of pea-sized hail.  After two or three minutes the light brightened slightly as we began to break through from the precipitation – surprised at such a dryish, weak hook.  Was this storm falling apart?  I started to look around out the windows – as did Gene and Carsten.  Up front I heard Gene pointing out the striations on the side of the updraft to Carsten, and I strained my own neck now that we were drier and had more visibility to see if I could get a look at this storm’s structure for the first time…..  My eyes had just rested upon that part of the storm that Gene was referring to when I heard the one thing that I – in my heart of hearts – did not want to hear. 

“OH MY GOSH CARSTEN - LOOK AT THE TORNADO!!  HUGE TORNADO!!!!!”
Gene’s voice was high-pitched…….hysterical…….further description of his manner is really not necessary when you are faced with a sight like this.  Carsten’s low, reverent voice was heard.
“Woa…….woa……”
Some brief radio communications from Tim’s vehicle added to the exclamations.
I stayed silent for a long time – lost in my own thoughts in the back seat – my heart lurching, my mouth instantly drying up once again.
”Oh my God…..”
I know I uttered some of the same as what the others were – but to me I think it had a different meaning.  Never having been faced with a sight like this in my life before as the remnants of the pathetic hook cleared up and the whole panorama was revealed, my mind refused to take the sight in.  It was like the whole storm was on the ground.  The wedge tornado made me disoriented, it purely did not seem right or possible that we could be looking at something this huge.  I completely forgot for the moment my camera.  My jaw slack and open, I gawked until I could gawk no more.  There is no way one can prepare oneself for an event like this – or ever fully describe it.  Gene immediately sprung into action and started filming as best he could whilst still driving.  Carsten of course was already hanging out the window and taking photographs like there was no tomorrow.  I did not take any photographs – just looked on – still unbelieving.  The ¼ to ½ mile wide wedge tornado loomed on the landscape now only about 3 miles away from us as we drove further east on Hwy 14, closing in on it.  The lighting this day in our position was extremely unique.  We were on the west side of the tornado and there was just enough daylight seeping in under the storm’s base to give the huge vortex a dirty golden colour – muddy and dirty and sickly and unmistakably awe-worthy.  It rolled its way across the landscape, on a due north heading – straight towards a small collection of houses, which was named Manchester South Dakota.  I personally did not realise Manchester was there.......until later when it was rather.......obvious.   It had already taken out some farmsteads and a whole line of trees about 2 miles south of our position.  Looking up at it – I saw the dreadful beauty of what we were looking at through rolled-down windows.  The dirty golden colour of the tornado gave way to a dark navy blue mesocyclone circulation above.  The concavity directly around where the tornado joined to cloud base was of the darkest, forbidden blue.  Then, the outer edges of the wall cloud curled over and downwards also, creating a huge umbrella effect.  On its edges were bright gray tendrils of scud – all rotating cyclonically – forming what looked like a canopy for the wedge tornado.  Their ghostly gray fingers clawed at the outer edges of the circulation – taking part in the nightmarish merry-go-round – as if bearing a warning for any who passed under them. 

We finally came within about ½ of a mile of the huge tornado – just west of the small town of Manchester – and still we closed in on it.  My body started to feel the huge tugs of nausea and all my mental receptors were telling me that we should be travelling in exactly the opposite direction than we were. 
The wedge still ever approaching from the south – we got close enough to be in that “magic area” once again – and this time with a much larger tornado it was even more bewildering.  We could see the complex multiple-vortex structure intimately – that which most every tornado is made up of – now that we were up close, and within the huge spray of the wedge they danced like concealed ghosts in the mist.  Our vehicles slowed to a stop in the middle of the deserted highway momentarily.  To our surprise and horror we could see a vehicle’s brake lights up ahead of us – and we thought we were close being slightly less than ½ mile away from everything.  We watched as the tornado approached Manchester relentlessly – fearing for any of its citizens if anybody had the misfortune of not knowing what was coming their way.  Tim came over the radio whilst frantically looking up his GPS.  “I’m sorry guys but I am NOT goin’ in there…..”  Gene shook his head and signalled back that he agreed.  There really was no way that we could have made it into Manchester and deployed and got out again – comfortably.  And now the tornado loomed over highway 14 – right on the south side of the road.  With the monstrosity looming over us, Tim took us off the highway onto a small gravel/dirt track which pointed north – one half mile to the west of Manchester.  We pulled off the highway and sat there – Tim had worked out a possible deployment route on his GPS.  Before continuing, however, we stopped on the mud road facing north, and looked to our east.  The event that was about to happen was worthy of watching just this once.  Our trucks sat on the road pointing steadfastedly northwards, growling, panting........like athletes on the starting blocks before their big sprint.  We rolled down our windows on the right hand side of the truck – facing Manchester ......and........before my eyes and before I had any second to think or contemplate what was about to happen next..........I began to see things come apart in my field of vision. One quarter mile to our immediate east, a town disintegrated with the onslaught of a wedge tornado. 

My mind was bombarded by colours in a matter of seconds – the dirty brown and gold wedge tornado, it’s associated grays and dark blues and myriad of other atmospheric colours, the green and yellow field of wheat or some other crop that was our foreground to this event, the colours of brown and black specks of debris as Manchester came apart and was sent into the heavens.  Like an involuntary reflex I found my hands lifting my camera up to my eyes.  I took the lens cap off.  I checked my shutter speed and F-stops..........and pushed the shutter speed all the way to 500ths/sec, “freeze” mode.  Perhaps Gene’s photography teaching was finally paying off........finally. 
Click........click........click........click my camera went........as I forced my clammy, shaking hands to work........the other’s video cameras rolling in the background.  I did know one thing – what we were seeing was a moment in history never to be replayed again.  Never to be seen again.  Never to be heard again.  And hear it we did.  As Manchester fell apart and debris was sent tumbling across the ground or flying up into the air, the noise of the tornado drastically increased in decibels.  A roar like that of a gale through trees ascended our ears – a rather obvious result of all the debris clattering against itself and the ground so near us. My eyes watched as I saw physical destruction.  A small shack came apart just on the outside of the vortex circulation (on the west side of the tornado), and it was sent streaming southwards at near ground-level – peppering itself into a nearby, disused two-storey house.  The house itself gave one last great heaving sigh, and relinquished it's standing.  Sagging to the south, it’s roof finally blew off and the rest of it followed shortly thereafter – to be perpetually lost in the mist and the spray that was an F-4 tornado around it. 

Such was the lighting this day that, in still photographs when looking back at the Manchester event one can actually see into the tornado – as strong daylight was coming in from our side of it.  The ground level just inside the tornado looks like a hurricane – although worse than any hurricane man will ever experience I hope.  Trees are bent at 90 degree angles depending on which side of the tornado they are on, denuded trees on the south side of the vortex stand lifeless and raped, as if bearing warning to the intact trees on the north side of the small town.
I can only imagine what was happening or being seen on the east side of this event looking west at it. And all of a sudden we started to rumble northwards, slowly at first, and then increasing speed as our very vehicles seemed to sense the urgency of each passing minute.  I think I remember asking just what on earth we were intending on doing with this monstrosity – but I don’t think I got an answer.  All the time of course Carsten had been in his element – yelling and screaming and blasting off scores of Velvia.  It started to rain on us as we kept an eye on the tornado to our southeast, and Tim came over. “We may get some rain and hail here – maybe get into the core – but you’ll just have to bear with me, OK?” We drove and drove and drove northwards as fast as we possibly could muster on the roads.  And the roads........deteriorated rapidly.  Before we knew it we were back on mud – not gravel.  I became more and more worried and anxious.  Looking at the tornado now – through the spray of rain behind us to our south-east – we could see it was “shrinking” to a very large cone – still with a very large ground base........and still very much on it’s march northwards. After driving north for two miles of sectionline roads, we came to a corner in the road which would take us east, and slipping and sliding took the bend to start our mind-numbing, hernia-inducing sprint into the history books........

Looking down upon us must have been like looking down upon the set of an expensive special-effects movie – or Twister for that matter.  With one important difference – what we were doing was REAL and the tornado was REAL.  A white van and a red Ford Expedition – speeding down a black mud road to make a desperate attempt to get in front of the advancing danger. 

And so we drove east as fast as the roads would permit – which wasn’t very.  Gene half-laughed.
“Oh my gosh these roads are terrible!”
Our wheels slipped and spun as they fought to gain traction in the mess – and this was with four-wheel drive.  We were out of the rain now, and able to see our assailant clearly.  The cone had not shrunk too much, and as we were approaching it at right angles it appeared to be getting VERY large VERY quickly. 
My heart missed several beats as we fishtailed into the monster’s path (and I do not use that term lightly or willfully).  My mouth was as dry as the Sahara – a curious reaction of one’s body getting ready for the fight-or-flight experience, my hands clammy and useless, my camera sat redundant in my lap.
So........we were now in the tornado’s path, having driven about one mile east.  I risked a glance out my window on the right hand side of the truck – and there it was less than 300 yards to our south – certainly less than ¼ mile.  A block or two – shall we say.  The road dipped and we rumbled across Redstone Creek on a small rickety wooden bridge, fishtailing all the time.
On our left was a small dwelling or farmstead with a driveway – and it was here that Tim Samaras decided to deploy his probe – Probe No.3.  We stopped – in the path of the oncoming violent tornado, our vehicles deep in mud.  I looked again to our south and again felt the nausea and numbness.  I saw the tornado as it wreaked havoc on a farmstead to our south by a block or so.  Trees were ripped from their roots, and the buildings instantly collapsed like matchstick houses.  The roof of one of them was sent into the heavens, and part of it ended up almost directly over our heads.  Now that I looked up there – I could see other assortments of debris – 2x4s and other large pieces.  Seeing such LARGE debris circling directly above our heads made me feel nauseous – I was coming round drowsily to thinking that this may be our last storm chase – our last day on the planet for that matter.  Everything from this point on I remember in slow-motion.  Pat looked on frantically as Tim hauled out the probe, switched it on and placed it on the ground all in one motion.  Pat screamed out to him hoarsely above the eerie sound of a junkyard crusher..
”Tim!  We don’t have time – we don’t have time!!!”
But the action had already been placed in motion.  Tim whisked himself out into the abrasive atmosphere and dumped the probe down on the muddy gravel of the driveway leading to the farmstead.  What’s that joke about if you ever see some truck come and dump something like that in your driveway then........well........ drive away?  I had visions of our vehicles having been standing in the mud for too long – and not being able to spin their wheels free.  I did a quick calculation of what would be the best emergency evasion of a tornado on foot if one had to play out that nightmarish scenario for real.  Obviously you would run at right angles to the tornado’s path.  But slowly........oh so slowly........we started to move again.  I saw everything in slow-motion........driving past the farmstead.......our plain of horizon still off-kilter as Gene took the Expedition sloshing and slipping on the move again.......the violent spray of the tornado less than one block to our south........time wouldn’t go fast enough......….  Then I saw it – ASPHALT road surfaces.  This was, of course, 425^th Ave northbound - although I knew nothin of the sort at the time.  We planted all tires firmly on this God-given road and floored it hell-for-leather northwards – leaving our probe at the mercy of the monster behind us.  Of course it would take several minutes for my mind to fully accept that our immediate danger was over........and because of that I still remained in a perpetual state of cold, solid, rigid fear. 
(In Tim’s vehicle........Pat looks back with video camera still rolling in his hand and giggles, ”Jeez! ........oh this thing’s right on Carsten’s butt!!”.  It was probably best that I was not looking behind us at that particular moment in time........and that our rear window was completely obscured by mud).

Chances are it was hitting Probe No. 3.......right now.
Then it was time to get in the vehicles again as the tornado advanced closer to us.  No need to tell me twice – I swung myself up into my seat in the back of the Expedition once again.  It felt like an eternity waiting for the others to get in and for Gene and Tim to finally blast northwards again.  North was the only direction in which I wanted to travel right now. We got almost up to where a small house sat on the east side of the highway, and stopped once again.  Tim did his deployment – placing one probe on either side of the road – watching and altering his projection of the tornado based on what it was doing right now.  The tornado – after it’s little hiccup at our farmstead – had apparently regenerated into a more healthy drillpress/elephant’s trunk again – and displayed itself as very erect and VERY violent.  It was east of the road now, and was whacking its way through the cornfield directly adjacent to us. 
Gene looked over at me and shouted to me.
”Listen!  You can hear it….!”
In hindsight I am SO GLAD that Gene did say this – as it provided me with one of the most lasting and potent memories from this day that I possess.  I looked above my head, craning to see where the funnel connected to cloud base.  In reality – I had to bend over backwards to see it – even though the tornado was on the ground in front of me.  That is what it is like to be in such close proximity to these terrible sculptures of Mother Nature’s work.  I listened intently – and for the first time HEARD a tornado that I was in the presence of.  So close and three-dimensional was our experience I could cock my head and listen to whatever part of the vortex I wished – and hear it.  The vortices themselves make a noise it would appear.  There is no better way to describe it than the legendary waterfall sound – and when you are this close to a tornado it sounds like you are standing somewhere near Niagara Falls and listening to the roar of the immense water.  I listened to the circulation on the ground, and then took my eyes up into the heavens and watched and listened to different parts of the vortex – all the time hearing the waterfall sound from whichever part of the entity I chose to listen to.  For a moment........I enjoyed myself...........the fear was not there........only wonder.  Suddenly I was jolted from my subconscious place by Carsten's urgent, booming German voice.  "Let's do a deployment!  Gene!   Gene - let's do a deployment.....!!!"  His face was frantic, an obsessed man, his longish fair hair windswept across his forehead and rain drenched, his jackets disheveled and crumpled now.  His ice cold blue eyes flashed with death-defiance.  At first I wondered what on earth he was on about - and then I remembered the blasted swirl device in the back seat of our Expedition.  As the tornado loomed over us, I began to think I was seeing it turn on it's path to our southeast........taking a more north-northwesterly  heading.........and I suddenly realised how little time we would have if the tornado began to recurve.  But Gene quickly helped Carsten as he frantically tore at the door handle on the back door of the truck.  Finally they got the door open - and there sat the glinting aluminum body of the swirl.  I edged nearer the truck as the tornado - a solid drillpress with terrifying motions at the base - threatened us on it's now confirmed recurve.  Managing to think a bit more I took some still photographs.  Carsten's right hand and Gene's left hand hauled the swirl from it's resting place, and they took it out and across the road to set it down a little way from us on the east side of the road.  Carsten dropped to his knees on the hard road - so tiny underneath the funnel of the tornado - and flicked switches and opened shutters on the video camera and two SLRs that were inside.  Painfully slowly he rose - finally having finished setting everything up.  Gene was already making a dash for the driver's seat - I was hysterical and laying on the horn trying to get everybody assembled and out of here - we were all yelling at Carsten although our voices were now drowned out by the waterfall sound.......the waterfall sound and the sound of corn stalks being mulched by a 250mph weed-whacker.. ...as the spray of the tornado came over the crest of our viewpoint.  It was there.  In the cornfield on OUR edge of the field.  Nothing more can be said.  It was just .....there.   I'll say 150 yards.  6 power poles, if that.  Oh shit.

Tim and Carsten finally tasted the danger that was upon us - and all bodies were in their vehicles.  There seemed to be resistance on accelerating - or perhaps I was just so far into oblivion that I imagined it - imagined us getting sucked backwards from the road.  But that didn't happen.  We finally pulled ourselves away from the advancing F4's mist as it emerged from the cornfield and onto the highway once again.  Gene watched disbelieving in his rear view mirror as he guided us from the jaws of the beast.  One minute later, as we slowed to a more assured pace well head of the tornado, Gene said.
"I think it's hit it."

Those words seemed ridiculous to be saying.  Carsten was ever the pessimist.
"Ya well.......well we will see, ya.  I don't hope for anysing......."
We drove for a half minute or so, and then began to slow down as Tim insisted on placing one more turtle in the tornado's path.  I felt slightly better about this one - seeing as were comfortably half a mile ahead of it now.  Stopping at the side of the road yet again, just north of a small row of trees and a cottage, we all poured out of our vehicles once more.  I wiped mud-spattered hair from my forehead so I could get a visual through my camera's eyepiece.  Through that eyepiece, I saw everything.  Tim - kneeling down on a gravel side road placing the bright orange probe yet again.  Carsten - his bright red rain jacket making him stand out like a beacon in the muddy, dark landscape, poised like a human tripod with his camera fixed on Tim.  The tornado - unrelenting and unashamedly churning directly across the road in front of our eyes, it's dark spray debris cloud now obliterating our view southwards on the highway, it's ever-attendant waterfall sound hanging in the air like a verbal warning.  I saw our mud-streaked vehicles with their doors ajar.  Through the lens, I saw the very epitome of our chase.

After that, everything was go again.  Tim switched his last probe on and pranced towards his van again.  Wrapping up his own photo shooting, Gene packed his own camera away in the back seat of the Expedition (i.e. handed it to me), and we drove north again to keep up with our vortex.   After a minute or so, something had changed as Gene and Tim slowed to a stop again.  Gene said. "That's it - it's dissipating......"  We all got out - I was finally getting used to the  stop-go-stop-go rhythm and actually was beginning to get into a routine now - I now wished that we had another hour or so of tornadoes for me to be creative with!  But that was never likely........  We stopped and watched the rapidly weakening (for the second time) tornado as it moved off on a final path trajectory into the field to our southwest and west.  It gave out some amazing formations whilst dying, displaying that proverbial "Genie-out-of-the-bottle" look behind a small grove of trees.  It then lost the remnants of it's condensation......and disappeared.  All that was left was a dust devil having a bad day in the field about 200 yards to our west - little multiple-vortices made out of mist dancing concentrically around each other amidst their glee.  Then even that disappeared.  The Manchester event was over.

I breathed a deep shaky breath - but it still caught in my throat with my continued post-event anxiety.  We were left standing alone on the highway.  Everything was.......somehow......deflated.  But as ever Tim lifted us all from our thoughts.
"Right.  I want to go back and collect everything."  I nodded my head and agreed - suddenly finding my voice.  "Yes that must be done."  I knew how important some of these probe deployments had been.  Or I suspected.  Driving south we cleared the trees on our left (west) and were revealed the next event - a very low-hanging mesocyclone and wall cloud.  About 30 seconds after it was revealed to us - it began tornadoing.  Our storm lived on - it had just jumped over to the east by a few miles.  I shook my head in disbelief as I witnessed even more tornadoes for the day - I felt like I was sitting lazily in a huge theater and being shown all these things - the sky would simply not stop rotating.  Every damn cloud that went up and could sustain an updraft for any length of time rotated and probably tornadoed this day.  We pulled up to the two probes Tim had last deployed - one on either side of the road.  Of course Carsten was out taking photographs of Tim recovering them and marking them on his GPS.  It was THE most eerie feeling I have ever had - nonchalantly picking up these probes and talking about the day - whilst tornadoes dropped from the sky about 5 miles to our east.  My husband said he had never felt anything like it - going about our necessary business whilst this atmospheric violence was happening behind our very backs.  That means a lot coming from one who has chased for 20 years and seen as much as he has.......  Driving south again, we picked up one probe that looked like it may have got a side-swipe from the vortex as it crossed the road.  We carried on........wanting to get to the really interesting area - the demolished farmstead at the corner where we had made our death-defying turn away from the cone as it approached. 

Approaching that area - there was already a buzz of activity.  A couple of emergency vehicles were parked on the highway - their lights flashing in warning to anybody else of what had just happened.  Nightmarish renditions of trees stood at the side of the road - which once enclosed the farmstead's yard - debarked and stark.  A truck lay rolled up in a ball amongst one of those trees.  Another squashed car lay on the side of the highway in the ditch.
Power lines were draped across the road but thankfully were no longer live.  The power poles were either lying across the road too - or had been relocated far enough into the adjacent fields that we could not see them.   There was no structure left - no farmstead.  Many piles of wood and 2x4s and everything else imaginable lay strewn around - the remnants of the house lying in testament to what had just taken place here.  Rows of hedging vegetation lay at 180 degrees - horizontal to the ground.  A car battery lay on the highway - fizzing acid.  Two Mesonet vehicles were parked up at the side of the road right next to the scene.  A few people - faces unknown - were helping out at the scene or taking it in - one of the two.  Luckily nobody had been home.
Somewhere a dog barked.
We slowed down getting ready to stop to take video, photographs and make sure nobody needed any help.  I shook my head.
"Good grief I hope everybody's alright......"
Gene stayed silent.  Carsten had his usual exclamation.
"Woa..........woa........"
He had probably never seen direct tornado damage from an event he had witnessed before.  This was an almost-new experience for myself, too.  Although I did have some damage knowledge to use in my own assessment of the scene - after our May 8th extensive damage survey with Tim Marshall earlier this year.  My mind instantly began thinking 'F3 - possibly F4'.
I scanned around as we entered the destroyed area - picking our tires through all the hazardous debris on the road.  My eyes scanned the scene - and down the road.......down the highway......just south........a destroyed boat lay in the middle of the road........a strange, orange light flashed.......
My eyes focused.&