Storms - Images | Kevin Palmer

Paved roads were few and far between. Cell phone signal was non-existent. Hills and bluffs sometimes blocked the view. Mosquitoes swarmed around me and stubborn cows formed a roadblock. These are some of the challenges of chasing storms in Montana. Elsewhere crowds of storm chasers may converge on a supercell. But here it’s not uncommon to be the only one on a storm, and I feel an extra responsibility to report what I see to the National Weather Service. When everything comes together just right the supercells here can be truly incredible. This storm first went up over the Crazy Mountains before tracking east along the Musselshell River, into a part of Big Sky Country I’d never been. It was one of the roundest, most obviously rotating supercells I've ever seen. Evening sunlight snuck in underneath to turn the hail shaft gold. Just when the storm was at its most photogenic I came upon this scene of an abandoned house on the open prairie. It was exactly what I was looking for.

Melstone Supercell

At 8:25pm, the 1st of 4 tornadoes that I saw that evening emerged from the rain shaft. This was the strongest tornado of the day, with the NWS rating it an EF-3. But it roped out about 3 minutes later.

Tornado Road

On this evening I headed up into the hills to watch lightning. The first storm that made me head out the door wasn't any good for pictures, since most of the lightning was intra-cloud. But then I watched another cell pop up to my south. As this updraft exploded into the starry sky, it started producing positive lightning strikes. Positive lightning accounts for 5-10% of all lightning, and is up to 10X more powerful than negative strikes with a peak discharge of 1 billion volts. It originates from the top of a thundercloud and travels through miles of air before striking the ground. Positive bolts can hit up to 25 miles away from the parent thunderstorm. These "bolts from the blue" are especially dangerous because people may assume they're a safe distance away from the storm when they strike.<br />
The night couldn't have been more perfect for watching lightning.A full moon helped to light up the landscape and gave the thundercloud a silver lining. I stayed in the same spot for hours as multiple storms followed the same path.

Lightning and Moonbeams

Badlands are a type of terrain that experiences rapid erosion, estimated to be an inch per year at Badlands National Park. Much of that erosion happens during thunderstorms like this one. When the downpour first started I was disappointed because I didn’t get any shots of the storm structure beforehand. But then there was a break in the rain. It lasted just long enough for me to rush back to this overlook and capture the dark menacing clouds above surrounded by two blueish-green rain cores. Hidden in the ravine below were big horn sheep climbing the steep muddy terrain. The second wall of water hit even heavier than the first and dropped visibility to almost zero. A local told me they had never seen a spring with more rain. And they were right, 2019 was to become the wettest year on record in western South Dakota.

Wall of Water

This severe thunderstorm rolled into northern Wyoming from Montana after 8PM. This north-facing railroad track was the perfect place to shoot a time lapse of it approaching. The NWS warned of winds up to 70 mph as the gust front passed over.

Off The Rails

Mammatus clouds are a common sight while storm chasing, but never have I seen them in a sunset like this. They seemed to become more defined and filled nearly the entire sky as the sun sank lower. The fiery colors were so intense that I had to cut back on the saturation. A strong MCS (mesoscale convective system) had moved off to the east as I was passing through Wheatland on my way home. When I noticed this sunset developing I searched for something nearby to serve as a foreground and this old tractor did the trick. Mammatus clouds usually form beneath the anvil of a strong thunderstorm, which means they can be either ahead of or behind the storm. The lobes are about 500m wide on average and show a sinking motion, making it look like the sky is falling. Pilots typically give mammatus a wide berth because of the turbulence they bring. Even though they happen frequently, their formation is not very well understood.

Farmer's Delight

This thunderstorm popped up west of Devils Tower around 10PM. Once I got to this overlook, I could only get a few shots of Comet NEOWISE before it was blocked out by the clouds.

It's Coming This Way

Elephant Trunk Tornado

A weakening storm approached the west side of the Bighorn Mountains. The sun came out and this double rainbow appeared. It was so vivid it felt like I could reach out and touch it. At first it was almost a complete circle. I rushed to capture a time lapse and had to keep wiping the raindrops off my lens. I got quite wet as a result, but it was worth it.<br />
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A double rainbow is caused by light reflecting a second time within raindrops. The secondary rainbow is located 8° apart from the primary bow, and is almost double the width. The colors are fainter, and in reverse order (VIBGYOR instead of ROYGBIV.) In between the two rainbows is a darkened part of the sky called Alexander’s Band. The sunlight is always brightest in the center of a rainbow at the anti-solar point. But since this bright light is also reflected opposite the secondary rainbow, that leaves a dark band in between.

Seeing Double

I spent the fourth of July chasing tornadoes in Chugwater, Wyoming. Chugwater has a certain legendary status among storm chasers. Storms form over the Laramie Mountains to the west, and the local terrain seems to enhance tornadic potential. On at least 3 other occasions I've seen funnel clouds here. And having one of the few paved, east-west highways also makes it a great place to target. Luckily there is not much around for a tornado to damage. I had to pick a spot either below the bluff or on top. I chose on top, which put me a little over a mile away from the developing tornado. Powerful cloud to ground lightning bolts were dropping during tornadogenesis. My camera was left outside to shoot automatically while I stayed in my car.

Chugwater Tornado

Tumbleweeds rolled across the road as I drove through the Nebraska panhandle with this stunning supercell behind me. I was looking for something, a barn, winding road, etc, to shoot in front of the storm. But mostly I wanted to capture a time lapse without power lines getting in the way. Finally I found what I was looking for: a lone tree on the edge of a barren field. I ran out to the tree and had 6 minutes to take pictures before the winds would blow over my tripod.

Tree Vs Supercell

Earlier in the spring I came across this overlook on a hilltop with a view of the mountains to the west. I knew it would be be the perfect spot to watch a storm roll out of the Bighorns, I just needed to wait for the right storm. My first attempt didn’t yield the pictures I wanted as the cell went too far south. But the second time’s a charm. This storm intensified after I got here and started spitting out dozens of close lightning bolts. It was dark enough that I could use a longer shutter speed, and capture about 40% of the strikes that occurred. But there were many more out of frame to the right. This is a composite image showing 5 of the best strikes. By the time I left there was a small stream running under my car as well as some minor street flooding in Sheridan.

5 Strikes

This was a day I won't soon forget. The forecast called for very humid air, extreme instability, and strong wind shear in the MT/ND/SD area. Having all these conditions come together at the same time is quite rare and I knew something incredible would happen. I just had to be there. The day involved lots of waiting around in eastern Montana until I set my sights on this supercell in the late evening. The storm structure was otherworldly, looking like a tsunami in the sky. When the first tornado dropped there were hills in the way and road options to get closer were limited. But outside of Buffalo, South Dakota, finally the twister became visible. The tornado lifted and planted again about 4 times. It was looking the best as the sun was setting at 9pm. I was never closer than about 9 miles, but this gave me the advantage of seeing more of the storm's structure. Now I finally have a tornado clip to finish up my time lapse film.

Buffalo Tornado

In this part of Montana there’s a whole lot of nothing. The sprawling ranches have more acreage than many towns. I’ve previously driven hours along this road east of Decker without seeing another human. You're more likely to encounter wildlife such as pronghorn antelope, which I've raced across these plains and found that they really can run 60 mph. On a warm August evening I followed this storm for awhile. The radar showed it was producing hail the size of baseballs. But since the core passed through a roadless area, any severe weather went unseen and unreported. Abandoned houses are not hard to find as they are more common than lived-in houses. By now I know where most of them are so I kept driving until I could shoot the storm above this one. When the evening sun came out it highlighted the puffy cumulonimbus clouds receding into the distance. The white containers next to the tree are bee hive boxes. I've noticed them popping up more and more across Montana as it's one of the top honey-producing states.

Home On the Range

Under Jupiter

A telephoto lens was very important to have on this storm chase, since I never got closer than about 9 miles to the tornado. This is the 3rd tornado that I saw this day and it was on the ground for about 20 minutes.

Cone Tornado

The Hills Are Electric

Moon Behind the Anvil

A telephoto lens was very important to have on this storm chase, since I never got closer than about 9 miles to the tornado. This is the 4th and final tornado that I saw this evening. It was after 9:00 so that made it very challenging to photograph. The 1-second exposure gave the twister a blurred look. I would lose sight of it about 7 minutes later.

The Last Twister

A supercell lurked in the darkness. Every few seconds a flash would illuminate the thundercloud and show a silhouette of the sharp spires of the Badlands. This was the 4th storm I watched this evening. Rumbles of thunder slowly grew louder as yet another storm approached from the west and threatened to block the view of this one. Badlands National Park is one of my favorite places to capture storms. Even when they’re 100 miles away, the views here are excellent. And distant storms are preferred when I’m camping. The Badlands are very exposed to the elements. There is no escaping the rain, wind, and mud. An earlier downpour soaked me to the skin but the wind that followed dried me in minutes. The mud is the type that cakes to the bottom of your shoes making every footstep heavier. But a few hours in the hot sun and the mud is baked dry. At the time of this picture tennis-ball sized hail was reported in the Pine Ridge Reservation to the south. The lights are from the metropolis of Interior, population 94. The lightning was mostly cloud-to-cloud; this was the only strike I captured out of 500 shots.

Strike Beyond Interior

I'm still in shock that my camera captured this. Most of the small storm had moved off to the east behind me and I thought the show was over. This was literally going to be my last shot before packing it up, and if it happened 2 seconds later, I would have missed it. The bright light behind the cloud is the first quarter moon. All the other white specks are raindrops, frozen in mid-air by the brilliant flash. The raw power dwarfed everything around and it took awhile for my eyes (and ears) to recover. I'm still not sure what was struck, but one of the forks looks like it connects with the short tower on the hill. I've tried before and failed to capture lightning from this vantage point overlooking Sheridan. But when I heard a thunderstorm rolling out of the mountains shortly before midnight, this is where I went. The covered deck at the rest area offered a little protection and helped keep the rain off of my lens.

A Flash of Brilliance

Pictured is a highly unusual weather event called a derecho. Derechos are a long-lived wind storm that may travel across multiple states and cause widespread damage. They occur a few times a year in the Midwest or Eastern US. What was unusual about this derecho is that it began in Utah at 9AM. Normally the Rockies disrupt organized storm systems, but this one had no problem plowing 750 miles all the way to North Dakota. Hundreds of wind reports ranged from 60 to 110 mph. I intercepted the squall line near the Wyoming/South Dakota border. The severe thunderstorm warning mentioned a storm motion of 100 mph which was a bit difficult to comprehend. I tried to make it to a mountaintop, but then had to go with plan B, which turned into plan C which was pretty much the side of a road off of I-90. The shelf cloud was very ominous. The air was notably calm and quiet just before it struck. One mountain after another vanished into the rain and dust. Then seconds later the wind was roaring and I couldn't even stand up straight.

Beulah Derecho 3:1 Panorama

On my way back from South Dakota I had a chance to intercept this severe storm at Devils Tower. I got there in time to watch the shelf cloud roll by over the tower. This storm was a prolific hail producer. I misjudged the movement of the storm and ended up getting caught on the edge of the hail core as I fled east towards Sundance. Golf ball-sized chunks of ice left additional dents in my car. But I got off easy, there were a lot of cars with smashed windshields. Hailstones up to 4.5" in size damaged crops further east where the storm also produced a tornado.

Tower and Storm

The night started out clear and quiet with the Milky Way shining brightly to the south. Then one by one the stars began to disappear, first to the north, then to the west. Flashes of light soon caught my attention, each one closer than the last. Even though I was trying to go to sleep, I could ignore the storm no longer. I went to the opposite side of the 400' high rock formation called Boar's Tusk, where I was camping. The long-dormant remnant of a volcano now came alive with a different kind of rumble. Focusing and exposure were tricky in the pitch black, but eventually I caught this double lightning strike. I felt lucky to witness rain in the Red Desert because under 10 inches falls here annually, with even less in a drought year. The parched ground absorbed the water and released the smell of petrichor. In Southwest Wyoming the Continental Divide splits to form the Great Divide Basin. So the little rain that does fall here never makes it to the ocean and mostly evaporates.

Boar's Tusk Rumble

Beulah Derecho 2:1 Panorama

Outside of Ekalaka, Montana, the structure on this mothership supercell was incredible. At times it looked like a giant tsunami in the sky. This storm would go on to produce at least 8 tornadoes.

Sky Tsunami

$Even after driving up Highway 14 dozens of times, I almost always stop at this scenic overlook. It’s where the Bighorn Mountains meet the endless plains stretching across eastern Wyoming and Montana. The towns of Dayton, Ranchester, and Sheridan are seen thousands of feet below and it’s a popular spot for launching hang gliders. For years I’ve wanted to capture a good lightning storm from here. But it required just the right storm, one that comes in from the northwest in a path parallel to the mountains. It needed to be close enough to light up the valley, but far enough to stay out of danger and out of most of the rain. It also needed to be predictable, so I could get there in time. At 10PM sheets of rain began to envelop the ridges to the north one by one. Then this brilliant flash illuminated the foothills and switchbacks just before the lights of Dayton disappeared into the downpour. I’ve always loved the challenge of capturing something that lasts a fraction of a second and preserving it in a picture.$