Denver Magazine / Denver Magazine April 2009 / Man v. Weather

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Man v. Weather

Natural instinct "” in particular the reflexive fight-or-flight response "” has proven itself a useful human trait over the years, especially when it comes to severe weather. Massive hurricane on its way and about to make landfall? People's knee-jerk reaction is to head to the supermarket and stock up on provisions (fight) or to evacuate and get the heck out of Dodge (flight). Monster tornado barreling toward your home? Make haste and hunker down in the storm cellar lest you go on a Dorothy-in-The-Wizard-of-Oz-type ride in

a twister.

Such responses are only reasonable; when severe weather goes one way, we go another. That general rule of thumb is what keeps us alive in otherwise life-threatening situations. Unless, of course, you're that rare breed of person who calls him or herself a storm chaser. And if it so happens that your name is Roger Hill, you stare defiantly into the maelstrom and say, "Gimme what

you got."

Storm chasers like Hill strike out on the Great Plains in search of the worst weather Mother Nature has to offer and then seek to get as close to it as they can without losing life or limb. In practice, that means getting scary-close to tornadoes, one of the most intense and destructive natural forces on Earth.

Hill might be considered an accidental storm chaser. His interest in severe weather, tornadoes in particular, arose from a childhood close call with a tornado that leveled Topeka, Kansas. At the time, it was the most destructive tornado in U.S. history. Hill and his family narrowly escaped its wrath. Now, he's exorcising those childhood demons by facing the twisters that once almost claimed his life.

Denver, it turns out, is a prime home base for Roger Hill and storm chasers like him. Along with Oklahoma City and Dallas, it's one of three epicenters for storm chasing in the United States. Although tornadoes can (and do) occur in every state, most "” and the most violent "” occur in Tornado Alley, an immense swath of America's Breadbasket, the Great Plains. Denver, in turn, is poised on the edge of that alley, allowing easy access to places such as Nebraska, Kansas, and Oklahoma.

Denver, it also turns out, sits on the edge of Colorado's own mini-Tornado Alley. And for better or worse, Denver International Airport sits smack dab in the middle of that turbulent stretch of atmosphere. In fact, when last May's mile-wide tornado ravaged the town of Windsor, the storm that gave birth to that tornado began, literally, over DIA.

From his home not far from the airport, Hill likes to "blast east," as he often says, in search of supercell thunderstorms, the type of weather that spawns the monster twisters he's ultimately after. For much of the year, he chases pretty much solo, selling his video footage to outlets such as the Weather Channel and National Geographic. But Hill is also co-owner and lead tour guide for Silver Lining Tours, one of a handful of outfits that take paying clients on a wild ride across the plains, hunting for close encounters of the tornado kind.

Whether chasing alone or with clients, Hill likes to get close. Really close. As in, see-the-debris-in-the-air-and-feel-your-chest-rumble-from-the-thunderous-sound-of-the-wind close. Thankfully, Hill knows how to do it without getting himself, or his clients, killed. And when it goes really well, he has an experience like that of late May 2008.

On May 22, 23, and 25, Hill was leading a tour of three vans, which encountered major tornado intercepts. (May 22 was the day the Windsor tornado hit.) The morning of May 29 found the group in Salina, Kansas. The National Weather Service's Storm Prediction Center was warning of strong to violent tornadoes. And of course, Hill set his sights on the heart of it all, south-central Nebraska.

By that afternoon, his group was gazing into the rotating, swirling turbulence of a supercell thunderstorm, and a tornado was imminent. The storm moved east at 40 mph, and Hill's armada of vans raced to keep pace. Then, a large, multiple-vortex tornado formed just to the north and headed straight for the town of Kearney, Nebraska. Hill phoned the National Weather Service office in Hastings, and within moments, the tornado sirens sounded throughout Kearney.

Meanwhile, Hill halted the vans one mile south of town at an interchange with Interstate 80, and watched as the twister tore through town. The sky, darkened by the storm clouds, strobed with "power flashes," bursts of light, as the tornado ripped transformers from power lines.

Even as the Kearney storm drifted off to the east, Hill had his sights set on the next prize: a supercell in northern Kansas, 70 miles away. The group raced south and then east, positioning itself on the southwest side of the storm as first one, then two, and eventually four tornadoes unbelievably formed simultaneously. People momentarily spilled out of the vans to talk strategy with Hill.

"My lead van is going to get dangerously close," he explained. "Anyone that doesn't want to get that close can hop into the other two vans."

Two people immediately switched vans, while another two took their place. Hill guided his van into the core of the storm until it was surrounded by tornadoes on three sides, to the north, west, and south. One tornado marched ever closer "” at first, a quarter mile away; then, just hundreds of yards.

"Get us out of here, now!" Hill yelled to his driver. Debris fell from the air behind them as they sped east to escape the twister.

Soon, darkness fell, and the storms petered out into the night. Fueled by adrenaline but weary from an intense day of chasing, Hill and his guests charted a course for Oklahoma City, some six hours away. In a week of chasing, they had seen 21 tornadoes, a new Silver Lining Tours record. But for Hill, it was just another day on the job, doing what he loves. He's a storm chaser to the core, man versus weather. Man is winning.