We work around each other in comfortable silence. I lower my camera eventually and breathe in the scent of rain, taking a moment to savor it without distraction. Tipping my head back, I close my eyes and let the wind tug on my hair and cool the sweat on the back of my neck. It’s only when I open them again that I spot another storm off to the north, a towering cloud shooting up.
A quick jog back to my car and I’ve got my iPad in hand, rechecking the latest radar scan. The northern storm has less rain, which is more my speed, and the echo top scan shows the clouds are already pushing over thirty-five thousand feet. It’s also not moving that quickly, giving me plenty of time to catch up.
I replace my iPad and shut the car door, wincing as thewind slams it harder than I mean to. The sound attracts Wes’s attention. “Heading out?” he calls, lowering his camera.
Feeling generous with some incredible shots already on my memory card, I point to the storm on the horizon. “That one’s less soggy.”
He nods, then glances back at the storm behind the farmhouse. “Mind texting me a shot of what it looks like when you get up there?”
“Sure, I’ll put it in the group chat.” When he drops the Wild Wes persona, Wes is a lot easier to be around. At some point, he’ll return the favor. “Happy hunting.”
I’m ten minutes into my drive when Tracy calls. “Where you at?”
“Heading for the northern storm. You?”
“Already there. Get your ass up here, Sloane. I think we’re getting a tornado out of this one.”
I grin wildly to myself as I peer through the windshield at the storm. “Got it. See you soon.”
I fire off a quick voice note to Wes, check Tracy and Matt’s location, and then lower my foot on the gas. I might break a few speed limits, but luckily the route I choose is fairly empty, at least at first. Once I get closer, I’m forced to slow down as chaser rush hour takes over the country highway.
About fifty yards down a dirt road, I find Tracy and Matt with their tripods already set up. “You made it!” Tracy yells over the wind as I quickly grab my gear before jogging across the road. There’s a steep ditch for runoff, which requires a careful leap across before scrambling up the sandy soil to the fence line.
“We got a funnel for a few seconds.” Matt points to thetelltale horseshoe section of the storm where the tornado will form if it’s going to. “Fifty-fifty on whether it gets its act together.”
I tilt my head, stare at the storm, and then check my phone again. A severe thunderstorm warning has been issued, but no tornado warning yet, which isn’t a surprise. These types of storms are less likely to have the strong rotation needed to kick out a tornado than the one I left behind. Not impossible. Just less likely.
Then again, the ingredients are all there. The dew point is already oppressive, humid air clinging heavily to my skin while the temperature climbs and climbs. A hot breeze does little to combat the sticky air as the storm greedily sucks in even more fuel. And tornado or not, the towering structure is gorgeous.
As promised, I snap a quick shot with my phone and add it to the group text before concentrating on my camera and the storm, which is quickly getting stronger. Tracy spots the funnel first, whooping with delight and pointing like a madwoman at the same time our phones all howl with the incoming tornado warning.
My cheeks ache from smiling so wide. I couldn’t have asked for a better start to the season. There will be down days, and long drives, and terrible meals cobbled together from gas station snacks, sure, but today is epic.
When the tornado finally drops, the sun is low enough to light the whole thing up. A loud cheer goes up, adrenaline igniting at the thrill of a tornado sighting, and with a practiced hand, I high-five Tracy while pressing the shutter release with the other. The infectious joy of the moment is almost as magical as the scene in front of us.
Then it’s a mad dash for the cars, peeling out in a cloud of dust as we race along the road running parallel to the swirling vortex. It’s not strong—a blessing for the locals—but the angle of the sun makes it incredibly photogenic, gleaming against the red-brown earth. In a time-honored, if questionably safe, chaser tradition, I hang one hand out the window as I drive, filming with a death grip on my phone while gleefully ping-ponging my attention between the road and the tornado.
It’s a full twenty minutes before it finally ropes out, leaving us sweaty but exhilarated as mammatus clouds fill the sky.
“Are you going to be our good luck charm this season?” Matt jokes as we pack up our gear.
I laugh and shake my head. “Just a nice welcome back from the universe.”
“We’re going to keep with it,” Tracy tells me as I slide my camera back into its protective bag. “I’m on the hunt for night shots this year. You in?”
I hesitate with my bag halfway shut and chew on my lip. Night chases can produce some spectacular images, but I’ve been going since dawn. Even if I load up on coffee, I’d rather not risk continuing in the dark when I’m not at my best. Too dangerous. The smart thing to do is check in on tomorrow’s forecast, pick a hotel for the night, and sleep while I can.
“Not tonight,” I say with an apologetic smile. “Send me a text when you stop for the night. I’ll find you guys tomorrow. We can grab breakfast if nothing is going on until the afternoon.”
With another round of sweaty hugs, they head off after the storm. There’s a twinge of FOMO, but it’s only the first day. As soon as the adrenaline high fades, I’m going to crash hard.
I don’t notice the text from Wes until I pull into the hotel parking lot.Heard you caught a danger noodle.
I can’t resist a little taunting when it’s so rare I get to one-up him.You didn’t?
Wes replies instantly.Nah.The text is accompanied by photos of two distinctly different tornadoes.I got two.
My grin turns to a scowl. “Of course you did,” I mutter under my breath, then do the mature thing and send back a middle finger emoji.
