Thunderstorm

The weather report called for hot and sunny after a few scattered clouds in the morning. When I started the day, a band of darkness stretched out across US-20 from north to south, but it seemed pretty far out in the distance. The consensus was that thunderstorms, if they should form would skirt north of our location.

About six miles into the morning, the band of darkness to the west had started to coalesce into some actual cloud structure, and the only movement appeared to be directly in my general direction. Constant bearing, decreasing range.

I looked to the south and the band of clouds stretched for at least two or three miles. To the north the situation was similar, but I still didn’t see any rain. The air was warm and calm. I thought, at least the clouds are tamping down the attention of the sun.

Minutes later what my sister, the cloud expert in the family, described as a shelf cloud started to form up all across the five or six mile front. This wasn’t skirting north. It was headed right toward me. 

I still didn’t see the rain, so I began to look forward to the coolness that the front would inevitably bring. The cars headed my direction had their lights on, but none were using their wipers. This was going to work out just fine.

The shelf cloud continued to build, and the dark clouds blotted out the sun to the east. I grabbed my camera and started taking photos.

The front headed my way was beautiful. Grey and white clouds roiled and turned back on themselves in the wind. Blues and golds from the sun in the clear sky behind me. Vibrant turquoise and purple clouds that looked like the sea of the Caribbean surrounded by an overly ripe plum. I stood in wonder as a small section of the formation to the north started to dump dark grey buckets of rain. I glanced to the south and witnessed the same thing on a much larger scale.

Shelf Cloud Rolling West - Calhoun County, Iowa

The shelf cloud passed overhead, and a cold north wind blasted past in its wake. I still didn’t think I was going to get wet, but I dropped my pack and pulled out a Ziploc for my phone and battery. I tossed them in as a precaution, and then the first fat drops began to fall making quarter inch circles on my pack and the pavement. I dug for my pack cover. Maybe a little drizzle or two. Better play it safe.

I wrestled my pack into its cover, and the sky split open just as I finished getting the pack cover secured. Sheets of rain blasted to the south by the wind pummeled my right arm and face. The corn to the south bent with the wind, and the sheets of rain looked like fast moving mist across the forest green miles of corn.

People have asked what happens to us when it rains. The simple answer is that we get wet, and boy did I ever get wet. The wind driven rain peppered my arms enough to impart a little sting through my long sleeved shirt. The water ran in rivers off the brim of the Jello cap. 

I took off my glasses and glanced to the sky and laughed and shouted into the storm. It was a laugh that came all the way up from my belly, and the shouted “YESSSS” was pulled out of my mouth and driven south by the wind. It was glorious!

I picked up my trek poles and headed west. I stepped to the very edge of the rain soaked gravel apron of the road. The traffic still moving could only be seen about three car lengths away, and the spray of the semis was trivial in comparison to the maelstrom all around us.

The rain chilled me, and I remember thinking that I wished I could bottle it up for the inevitable heat and humidity that would follow in the afternoon.

After about thirty minutes, the rain started to slow and the deep purple of the sky started to lighten. I walked into the ragged sunlight at the back end of the storm. Lightning flashed across the clouds in white hot veins of fire, the thunder crashed, but the storm was over. 

I reflected back on how our distant ancestors had dealt with this sort of storm. No Doppler radar, no warnings, no fast drying tech fabrics, or durable water resistant nylon to keep their gear (mostly) dry.

I’d like to think they saw the beauty and shouted into the wind as well. I know they survived because none of us would be here if they hadn’t, and that’s an important thing to keep in mind. We’re the descendants of a long line of survivors and their genes and memes have put us all in a place of incredible power, luxury, and responsibility.

It was a wondrous storm, and I am deeply grateful to have experienced her in all her majestic power.