Tornado!

Five years ago, in late June I decided to return from Vancouver to Winnipeg by taking a route through the United States. I had checked the weather, which unsurprisingly forecast rain, before my leaving. There was to be an atmospheric river coming to Southern British Columbia within a few hours, and I decided that it would be wise to leave before its arrival.

I headed east on #3 Highway, and turned south into Washington state still heading east. The rain had begun as I left Vancouver, and by the time I arrived in Washington, it was a deluge. I always carry a good set of rain gear with me, and fortunately had put it on prior to my leaving.

I headed for Coeur D’alene and highway 90, hoping to make better time, ahead of the storm. Once on the interstate I was able to basically stay just ahead of the storm front that seemed to be following me as I proceeded across the state. I kept going and stopped for the night east of Bozeman, Montana and planned to ride all day the next day, to make it back to Winnipeg taking the long route to the south in an attempt to avoid the heavy rain that had followed me for two days.

While I had been paying close attention to the weather front coming from the west, I hadn’t paid much attention to the weather pushing up from the south. It was a mistake I wouldn’t make again. As I began my ride into South Dakota, I had decided to head for Aberdeen, SD and to use the interstate North through Fargo, Grand Forks and to Winnipeg.

But first I decided to visit Devil’s Tower in Wyoming, which wasn’t that far off my intended route, then ride cross country to Bismark, ND and continue on the rest of my intended route. It was while leaving Devil’s Tower that I noticed a huge supercell to the south. I estimated that I could outrun the storm, not realizing that my intended path would put me on a collision course with it. While continuing to watch the storm, I realized it was closing much faster than I had anticipated.

So in an attempt to avoid it, I turned Northeast on a smaller highway, the only highway that would take me Northeast unless I continued on to Highway 94 North. In a spur of the moment mental calculation, and without taking the time to stop and look closely at my GPS and the weather, I simply turned North. It was a decision that would almost cost me my life.

The storm, rather than veering to the east, as I had anticipated, continued North. As I watched the squall line of the huge supercell begin to blacken the sky to the south, I started to speed up the bike, less worried about a ticket and much more concerned about the now black line heading in my direction.

The wind began to increase dangerously, hitting me on the right side of the bike. I passed a transport as he was honking his horn pointing at the oncoming storm. I knew I was in trouble as I was nearing the intersection of Highway 20, it was obvious I was in trouble. The storm was the worst I’d ever seen, with wind speeds probably close to 100 kph. I turned the corner looking to my right. The storm front was close, probably no more than a couple of miles away, and for some reason I could hear sirens ahead. I thought it was both weird and unnerving.

I rode as fast as I could with the bike banked over 30 degrees to the storm, the rain was lashing the bike. I was afraid that the bike would wash out underneath me, and I was thinking of taking the bike into the ditch to find a place to hide, when up ahead I saw what looked like an abandoned gas station. I mentally computed if I could make it, and continued on, reaching the gas station just as the main storm front arrived. I leaned the bike up against the leeward side of the building and ran to the door of the station. I pulled on the handle, and surprisingly, the door opened.

I had just gotten into the building when I heard a voice yelling, “Get down here, there’s a tornado coming.” I ran towards the back and noticed there was an open staircase with a trap door on top. Obviously a tornado shelter. As I started down the staircase I could hear the tornado, it was that close. The owner slammed the door and locked the stairway. The wind was so loud, it truly sounded like a freight train was outside.

In about two minutes the sound dissipated and we opened the staircase. I introduced myself and thanked him for letting me in, hoping that my bike was still there. Unbelievably, everything was intact. The sirens I had heard in the distance had stopped, but now I could hear emergency vehicle sirens in the distance. I thanked the owner of what was actually his residence, jumped on the bike and headed east. Within a couple of minutes debris was everywhere. There was a sign pointing to the community close by, where the sirens seemed to be coming from. A state trooper was at the intersection and I stopped to see if there was anything I could help with, explaining I was a firefighter.

He just said, “No, there’s lots of damage from what I hear, and there are emergency personnel enroute from all the department’s close by. I had to drive around debris for about five minutes, and realized that the width of the tornado on the ground must have been more than half a mile across. The path of the F3 tornado had been less than a quarter mile from the building I had taken shelter in.

Later that day, I arrived in Bismarck and all that people were talking about at the motel was the tornado in South Dakota. The picture, below, was printed online the next day. When I looked at it, I realized that had I not stopped, I would have likely become a statistic.

Now, my GPS displays weather information and audible warnings to my headset, informing me when conditions are dangerous and where they are in relation to my present position.

Don’t ever try to outrun a tornado. They may well change direction. It’s a fool’s errand, and I was just lucky.

Ciao…