April 30, 2025

A relatively modest but local play prompted me to target the Vandalia, Illinois area for afternoon supercells where CAMs hinted at warm sector initiation.

A lead cell near Vandalia weakened so I retargeted rapidly developing activity coming out of the east St. Louis area. The storm went tornado warned before I could get on it, but I arrived to see that I was still early, with a gust front that would need to cycle a couple more times probably.

Stair stepping to keep up with the developing storm, looking north at the RFD core and thick inflow band.

I got in front of the supercell as the structure peaked, capturing a dramatic panoramic of the RFD gust front and wall cloud. This wound up being one of my best shots of the year.

I lingered with another chaser and watched the gust front start to move overhead. There was some twisting motion in this lowering, but the storm was still not ready to produce.

I tracked the storm up to the west side of Carlyle, stopping in a Walmart parking lot that had views to the west and north. The supercell sported a prominent RFD clear slot and big block wall cloud.

The structure was dramatic as the rain had cleared out of the front lit rear flank. This was the first sign that the cell was starting to weaken, however.

The cell was shrinking on the radar, so instead of playing the long game, coming up and around Carlyle Reservoir from the south, I decided to let it go, and watch it move over the lake from the west. I figured this would basically be my last shot.

As the cell shriveled up, I started driving north, either to call the chase or retarget, but as the cell cleared the lake, it reintensified quickly and gained another tornado warning. I decided to get back on it as soon as possible, which meant a hook slice from the west. This is a risky maneuver, but I figured I could chance it with a relatively small storm, velocity updates, and letting it cross in front of me if need be. I pushed into driving rain on the back side of the storm. Several other chasers were pulled off, but I pressed on. A couple of them were pointed south so I was wondering if they had seen something, but I still had no visibility. The east sky started to lighten just as I came across a narrow debris path. Sheet metal littered the field, power poles were bent, and a trailer was overturned. A tornado had crossed here. I threaded my way around the debris and pushed on hoping to get a view of it.

I broke out of the rain and could see something churning to the north. I fired off a few stills over my left shoulder while driving. It was the remnants of the torando whose path I had just crossed, what looked like a large cone funnel. It might have still been on the ground, but contrast was low and I couldn't tell while driving. Scouring the contrast enhanced stills afterwards I still couldn't confirm it, so wound up not counting it. I just missed the tornado by maybe a minute. Little did I know, this would be the closest I'd get to catching a tornado during the 2025 season.

The funnel retreated but the large, low tornado cyclone churned away to the north as I drove east to get ahead of the storm. I didn't see any tornado reports popping up on my screen, so I sent off a Spotter Network report of the debris path that I had crossed.

Stair stepping north and east as the supercell sported a dramatic bowing rear flank gust front in pretty evening colors.

The base had some photogenic striations but the storm was also transitioning into a High Precipitation mode.

I followed the storm all the way into Effingham, getting underneath the tornado warned base at dusk. A scuddy lowering was evident. I let the storm go as it tracked over Effingham and night fell, despite a tornado or funnel report coming in shortly afterward. I grabbed dinner with Colin Davis at a Chipotle and then headed for home.

A little creative writing inspired by this chase that I posted to Facebook:

The cat and mouse game that is the Illinois warm front sleeper. It’s April 30, and while most snooze, a few cats are alert, whiskers are starting to twitch, ears cocked. There’s something scratching and scurrying in the walls. The cats are on the prowl, a handful of mangy barn cats and neighborhood alley cats, watched by a few wise old farmhouse cats named Norman, Lincoln, Indie, and especially Saint Louie. Stalking, waiting, low tails shaking in anticipation, the thrill of the hunt is real. The wall pulls in, but the horseshoe bows out before the wall forms again. Inhale, exhale, repeat. It’s not yet time to pounce. It goes quiet. Is it over? Then one of the old farmhouse cats stands. Back arched, ears back, it hisses from the window, rousing the last that are still slumbering. The wall has wrapped up, and something is out, digging through the treats in the pantry. Blindly stalking from behind a curtain, one alley cat gives chase, hot on the trail of a mouse as it runs for cover, just out of sight under the cupboards, just out of reach. Debris suddenly emerges, and the cat gingerly dodges. Sheet metal strewn about in the grass. An overturned trailer in the road. Power poles bent over. The cat is struck by its stench. It is very close. The curtain pulls back, and now the cat can see. However, it’s already lifted, the remnants of the cyclone are retreating back into the wall. The mouse escapes through a hole in the baseboard, a big hunk of cheese in its mouth. The cat paces back and forth in front of the hole, bristling, but it knows it’s over. The mouse wins today, gorging on cheese in the wall in blissful ignorance. It’s May 1 and the tornado alley cat goes hungry, and someone in the house thought those old house cats were getting too fat, so they threw them out. Who cares. It’s just one little mouse, right?