Blowing through Tornado Alley

As we drive through the Kansas Flint Hills, toward Emporia, I turn to Tom Hoback and say, “Wouldn’t it be cool to encounter some really bad thunderstorms tomorrow — maybe see a tornado?” Tom gives me a look that says, why do I put up with people like this?

The next morning, a few minutes after 6 and sunrise, I bound out of the hotel in Cottonwood Falls, Kan., for a brisk walk. My destination is the BNSF LaJunta Subdivision crossing a mile and a half to the north, in Strong City. It is just a fabulous spring morning. I can hear whistles behind me belonging to trains on the nearby Emporia Sub. I feel great to be alive.

I am maybe one third of a mile from the BNSF crossing in Strong City when the gates go down and an eastbound double stack train rumbles by. As I reach the crossing I hear a following train whistling out of sight somewhere. A few sprinkles fall from the sky. Isn’t that so like Kansas, I think; even on a beautiful morning there are drops in the air! Then I turn around for the first time to look south, where I’ve been and where I have to go.

Holy s-word. I am looking at the meanest, baddest thunderstorm I’ve ever seen. Sticks of lightning cackle down. A breeze in my face informs me this monster is headed my way. The storm is so vicious that I can see a rainbow before it any rain falls. How could I not have noticed it sneaking up behind me?

I start walking back that mile and a half, fast. Maybe the storm will miss me. Maybe I’ll beat it to the hotel.

You know how this story ends, don’t you? I’m half a mile from safety when the storm opens up. Just before the hail begins, I find a tree to stand under. It offers little protection, just breaking the pace of the wall of water coming down before it splashes over me. I recall being told not to stand under trees during a thunderstorm, but ask myself, am I to stand out there by myself, alone, as a human lightning rod? I stay put.

After 20 or so minutes that last hours, the thunderstorm spends itself, and shivering cold, I bid my tree goodbye and begin walking through light train that last half mile. Tom is enjoying coffee in the hotel lobby when I come through, eager to begin a day of train watching. “I can’t believe you were so stupid to get caught up in that,” his look seems to say. Neither can I.—Fred W. Frailey