I'd seen on the news that Friday would be a day of meteorological instability, with probability of dangerous tornadoes, and that the storms would likely spark from just west of where I live (and head east). They predicted that the storms would likely begin to boil up about three to three thirty in the afternoon, the weather would really take off in the 5:30 to 6 pm drive-time, and probably last until nine or so.

5-31-2013 5:02 PM

About three PM I turned on my 4WarnMe App and clicked the [Watch Live] button. It showed a map like the one I had seen on the morning news. In a few minutes, here came Mike Morgan, saying that the cap was about to break and, oh, when it did, Katie bar the door! Then he went to some of his storm chasers, who said nothing had broken yet, but it looked like it would any minute.
The live broadcast ended and they went back to the map.

Probably about 3:30 - 3:45, Mike Morgan came back on live, and now the cap had broken and a huge anvil cloud was forming out near or just west of El Reno, which is about ten miles west of me. I knew this would develop quickly, and I did not want to be stuck in traffic on the highway when it rolled into town. I headed home about 4:30. Son Michael had already gotten the chickens in for me, so I just made a cursory walk-about and came inside to get ready.

I follow the progress and track of storms on an app called WeaterRadio with iMap Radar, which displays an interactive weather radar. I have a pin in mine to indicate where my house is, and I can display my current location, too. I have been following the progress and track of storms in this way for a few years, now, and have noticed a phenomenon. I have noticed that typically when weather (of any kind) is headed toward my place, it either veers off to one side or the other, goes around, weakens, or breaks up and goes around on each side sometimes reconvening once it passes. As bad as weather can be and often is, the full force of the worst of it simply doesn't bear down on my place.

This is not something to take for granted, though. Acknowledge, respectfully observe, but don't take for granted. And given the devastation of the Moore tornadoes just a week and a half earlier, and that the weatherman was saying weather conditions on this day were highly conducive to even more intense weather, I was certainly wary.

So I'm watching the radar on the WeatherRadio iMap, seeing where it is, where I am, hearing what the weatherman is saying, and talking to a friend on the phone. My friend said, "Oh, it's going to go north of you. It's not going to hit you at all. You'll be lucky to get rain out of this." I didn't argue with her, but it looked like she might be mistaken. Then the sirens went off. She offered to keep talking to me, but I have a plan and needed both hands to pull everything together and get tucked into my safe place, so I got off the phone.

About as soon as I got off the phone from my friend, my son Michael called. He said "Mom, you need to leave, you need to get out of there." While he's saying that, I can hear Mike Morgan on the TV saying, "People, get underground or get out of the way." I took another look at the iMap radar and started packing. Threw together a bag, put Cookie the Cat in her carrier, picked up Annie's leash, and headed to the car.

5-31-2013 About 7:00 PM

A right angle is the best way to travel away from a storm, and for this one, South was the way to go. Traffic was already thick but moving along pretty well, and I joined an exodus of cars headed south on Sara Road, south out of Mustang. I got about ten miles from home, checked the radar and pulled over to wait the storm out. My thinking was that the storm would play out, move on, and I could go back home. Silly me.

That storm just kept growing - continued to fire from its original location and growing to the east and the south. Pretty soon I had to move along to keep from being overtaken by the weather.

As I headed south again, I realized this was going to take longer than I had originally thought. I thought maybe I should go to my Dad's in Norman. I called to make sure someone was there, and thought about how I could route my trip. You can get to Dad's from where I was, but it's not the most efficient trip. There's a river to cross once or twice, and I-44, and Moore, and I-35, all on surface roads from where I was. Surface roads and heavy traffic, with an ever encroaching storm on this particular night. I tried to weave my way over. The storm was so heavy and so large that under the storm it was as dark as the darkest night you'd ever dread. Hard to see where you were, and hard to see how to get to where you wanted to go. Soon the storm was bearing down on Moore again, and then Norman, with me still miles away from Dad's, and in danger of getting caught in the weather. I could see I wasn't going to be able to get to Dad's.

I called to let them know I wasn't going to make it and found the first road I could, to go south. My evolving plan was to go far enough south to stay out of the storm, then circle back to the west, come up on the back side of the storm and follow it back home as it dissipated or moved on.

In this screen shot of the storm radar the point of the red pin is my house and the blue dot is where I was, about thirty miles from home. Thirty miles from home, and the storm was still freaking coming!

At about Blanchard I thought it might be good to top off the gas tank so I pulled into a gas station and reached for my purse. Couldn't find it! I have a cat and a dog and a bag ... no purse.  I got out and looked through everything in the car. Apparently in my excitement to make sure I got Annie the Dog and Cookie the Cat to safety, I plum forgot to pick up my purse! Well, I still had well over 200 miles on that tank of gas, so I was pretty sure I could make it home. Hoped so, anyway.


I continued south to Lindsay, checking the radar along the way.  When I got there it looked like I could circle back over to Chickasha; from there I would take Highway 81 back up to 152, to Clear Springs Road, and home. I anticipated that I might have to drive into some rain, but by the time I got back, the rain had moved on.

Bizarre were the lines of traffic, first heading south out of Mustang, then north on 81. As far as you could see, red tail lights in front of you, white headlights behind you. I'd been listening to the KFOR simulcast on the radio all evening so I'd heard plenty about impassable routes due to downed lines and local flooding. I saw areas dark from power outages, poles and signs knocked down and out of place, lots of broken trees, and water running across the road in several places. I saw water and heard water running in places you don't ordinarily see water. I saw a random fire hydrant laying in a drainage ditch, no idea where it came from or where it belonged. When I got home there was a line of traffic up my road as far as I could see, and water running over my driveway. I wasn't sure the gate would open, but it did, and I got home between ten and eleven.

Wow. My first choice is always to shelter in place, but if I ever have to evacuate again, I've had a practice run, and have an idea how to do it better next time.

Glad to be home, now, I can tell you that.