A rare outbreak of tornadoes hit northern Arizona in 2010. When author Scott Thybony found their tracks still visible on satellite images he began investigating them. Talking with the meteorologist in charge at the time, Thybony learned how the forecaster became part of the weather event he predicted.
Scenes of utter destruction have a gravitational pull for some of us. It might be as close to home as a flash flood or as faraway as the ruins of Pompeii. Recently I’ve been tracing the paths of tornadoes that ripped across Northern Arizona in the fall of 2010. It was the largest outbreak ever recorded west of the Continental Divide with at least eleven confirmed tornadoes. Somehow, I missed most of it at the time.
To learn more I’m meeting with Meteorologist in Charge Brian Klimowski on the last day of his 30-year career. We sit in his office at the National Weather Service forecast center located in Bellemont west of Flagstaff.
Early on the morning of October 6, the meteorologist on duty called Brian at home. He remembers waking up to a voice telling him, “’It’s a tornado! It’s probably going to hit the office. I’m taking shelter now!’ Click. He hung up the phone and that was it.” Brian ran to his computer and checked the weather. “There were multiple tornadic supercells,” he says, “that were heading right toward the office.” Brian immediately drove across Flagstaff and headed toward the danger.
Meteorologists are often impacted by the weather as much as their neighbors and still have to show up for work. “It’s what you do,” Brian says. “One of the most frightening parts for a meteorologist is when you’re actually issuing a tornado warning or flash flood warning for your own house.”
Two days before the outbreak, they had posted forecasts for thunderstorm activity with the possibility of tornadoes. While a rare occurrence in Arizona, several twisters hit the state each year. The meteorologists kept updating the local emergency services in the lead-up to the weather event.
As the tornadoes approached, the highway patrol shut down Interstate 40. Angry at the delay, motorists were complaining to the trooper just as the tornado cut across the highway ahead. Brian soon reached the closure, flashed his weather service badge and was waved through. Debris covered the highway requiring him to navigate past the wreckage to reach his office.
The meteorologists had seen the tornado coming and sheltered in place. They ducked into the kitchen area, built to withstand extreme winds, until the danger had receded. Soon a more powerful tornado, reaching wind speeds of 161 mph, passed within a third of a mile on the other side. The long-track tornado began in the rim country and cut a wide swath through the forest. It ended 30 miles north beyond the San Francisco Peaks. While passing through Bellemont, the tornadoes derailed train cars, flipped semis, and destroyed homes.
To my surprise, I found clear remnants of the destruction when I walked sections of the tornado tracks still visible on satellite imagery. I scrambled over logjams of wind-tossed trees and walked among broken trunks standing as stark as tombstones. A few surviving ponderosa had all of their limbs torn away except for a cluster of living branches at the very top much like a crow’s nest on a ship’s mast.
Before we part, I ask Brian what he will miss now that he’s retiring. “The sense of purpose,” he answers, “of making a meaningful contribution to people’s lives, and just being a part of this family. This is a great team here.” And he adds, “It’s a part of my fiber. I love the science, I love the forecasting, I love being involved with the weather and involved with the impacts that can happen. Simply put, it’s the foundation of my life . . . and it’s something I enjoy.” He pauses a moment before concluding, “I’ll miss that, I’ll miss that.”
As I leave to hike another segment of the tornado track, I check the weather app on my phone. It’s become second nature by now, and after our talk harder to take for granted.
Scott Thybony is a Flagstaff-based writer. His Canyon Commentaries are produced by KNAU Arizona Public Radio and air on the last Friday of each month.
