Jul 03 2009
Big Wind over the Big Lake
There are few spectacles more imposing in the Great Lakes region than a squall line rolling in off of the big waters. If you’ve ever seen it happen—if you’ve stood on the dunes and watched as a menacing wedge of clouds has advanced toward you like a giant, scowling eyebrow—then you know exactly what I mean. The green lake waters turn dark as the sunlight flees from the sky. A hush falls over the landscape like a blanket. And onward comes that great arch of cloud, stretching from horizon to horizon, a vast harbinger of gale-force winds, torrential rain, marble-sized hail, and a mighty extravaganza of lightning and thunder.
Storm season came late to Michigan this year. An inordinately cool spring kept the big weather in check longer than usual, but it did finally arrive, and I welcomed it with open arms. As a storm chaser, I look forward to the first spring storm the way a kid looks forward to Christmas. I love stepping outside under balmy, bright skies, sniffing the year’s first exhilarating fetch of good Gulf of Mexico moisture, and watching nicely sheared cumulus towers pile up through the troposphere and morph from benign little cotton puffs into war-like giants. Man, how I love a good storm, don’t you?
Storms in Michigan come in a few basic varieties, with some kinds being more common than others. The wall cloud in this picture is a sight you’ll rarely see in our neck of the woods. Once in a while, though, when conditions are right, you may encounter one. Most folks would just as soon not. It’s a sight that sends storm-wise Midwesterners scurrying for their basements, as a tornado can develop out of such a cloud in a matter of moments.
A wall cloud often—though by no means always—forms in the part of a thunderstorm that appears to be the least stormy. To the north, rain and even hail may be falling, while the wall cloud itself descends from a rain-free cloud base on the southwest, rear part of the storm. Just behind it and to the south, the sky may be clear and the sun may be shining. Don’t let that fool you! This is the business end of the storm, the part that is greedily ingesting massive amounts of the warm, moist air that fuels a thunderstorm the way gas powers an automobile engine.
The wall cloud pictured above was shot from a distance of maybe half a mile. The whitish area in the foreground was rotating vigorously and moving directly toward my storm chasing partner, Bill, and I at around 35 miles an hour. We stayed in our location long enough to snap a few photos, then skedaddled. The storm never put down a tornado during the time that we tracked with it—the surface winds weren’t right. Had they shifted to the southeast, though, I think things would have gotten considerably more interesting in a hurry.
Here’s a tip: if a thunderstorm is moving toward you and you can feel a warm wind rushing into it (not a cool wind blowing out of it), watch out. Trouble is very likely headed your way.
In contrast to a wall cloud, an arcus cloud (or shelf cloud) usually looks a lot more menacing than it really is. It’s a much more common cloud formation than a wall cloud. You’ll find it at the front end of an advancing thunderstorm; it’s a low, wedge-shaped structure that looks all the more threatening for the black skies that follow directly behind it. Like a wall cloud, a shelf cloud shows motion. However, a wall cloud will exhibit vertical rotation, like a giant carousel, while a shelf cloud’s motion is primarily lift, and any turning will be horizontal, like a huge rolling pin.
Look for quiet air as an arcus cloud approaches—the proverbial calm before the storm—then a cool, brisk breeze that builds and builds, sometimes to as high as 60 or 70 miles an hour, and rarely even faster. Once you begin to feel that wind, you’d better be heading for shelter if you haven’t found it already, because the rain that follows is usually a soaker of the first order.
Watching a good thunderstorm roll in is always a worthwhile experience. But it’s a doubly impressive sight on the Lake Michigan shoreline, with lightning bolts flickering on the horizon and thunder grumbling in the distance as the glowering shelf cloud steamrolls toward you across the sky. Next time stormy weather threatens to end your fun at the beach, don’t be too quick to leave. Stick around. The show is about to begin, and you don’t want to miss it.
Hi Folks: We just left Traverse City and are headed for the Straits. It has rained a lot of the time yesterday and today, but as the kids say “We are having a ball”.
If you know me, you know I love dogs. They have been called “Man’s Best Friend”,
Wabaningo was originally the name of an Michigan Indian chief.
Well, it’s that time again. The daylilies are blooming.
Michigan is fortunate to have so many lakes. Our state is blessed with many beautiful lakes, and Muskegon Lake is one of the best.
“I received your letter, was pleased to get it, will answer it soon. Hope you are well. Yesterday was my birthday. I was twenty two. I will write you what I got in my next letter. Hope to hear from you soon. Blanch”
A hobbit trail leads to the Bog Bench at Muskegon State Park. To be sure, there are many hobbit trails that wind through the wooded back dunes north of Muskegon, but this one is special. From its trail head at the storied Blockhouse that overlooks Lake Michigan and all points surrounding, it descends into a hardwood forest, clambers back up the side of a dune, then leads you across a small blowout and along a wooded ridge of knobbly witch hazels, entish oaks, and elvish white pines. From there the trail descends into a forested valley and traces the shore of a jewel-like bog lake bordered to the south, west, and east by more dunes, and to the north by flatter, less topographically challenging forest land.
I have tramped through countless woodlands in my four decades as an amateur naturalist, but I have never seen another woods so filled with mystery and magic as these. They are Sherwood Forest. They are Lothlorien. I’ve not yet seen a leprechaun scamper into hiding among the lowbush blueberries, but that just goes to show you how secretive leprechauns are. As for hobbits, I’m waiting for the day when I find one sitting on the Bog Bench. I’ll step off the main trail through an archway of pine branches and there he’ll be, smoking his pipe and contemplating the afternoon sun that dances in mirror fragments on the waters.
I could go on at length about the bench that sits on the shore of the tiny lake and overlooks an island of the encroaching wetland…about the trail as it follows its course around the lake and along the shoulders of wooded dunes shaded by hemlocks and woven with trailing arbutus…and of course, about the famed Blockhouse perched high atop a sandy pinnacle off of Scenic Drive, overlooking the land where lumberjacks once harvested long-vanished forests of virgin white pine. But there are other sides to Muskegon State Park as well. Broad, sandy beaches. Campgrounds. A channel where the Muskegon River, after broadening into the wide waters of Muskegon Lake, empties at last into the vast expanse of Lake Michigan.
From the pier, we headed back north to the beach to watch the sun set. Evening along the Lake Michigan shoreline is magical, and this evening was especially so. Orange-rimmed turrets of storm clouds far to the north thrust skyward, silhouetted by the melon sky. A host of sea gulls wheeled through the air, descending for the night with the sun. Blond sand and green marram grass blazed in the last rosy rays, then gradually receded into shadow. A beautiful afternoon on Michigan’s west coast had crowned itself with a radiant sunset.
Estimate”,
There I was, sitting at my desk, looking out over the water, listening to the birds sing and feeling sorry for my struggling tomato plants;