With more intense hurricanes, do we also have to prepare for more tornadoes in Florida?
We know that the warming climate, driven largely by fossil fuel emissions, are intensifying hurricanes. But what about tornadoes?
To answer our readers' questions on the links between climate change and tornadoes and how we can improve safety, the Herald spoke spoke to hazards geographer Stephen Strader, who studied meteorology and geography at Northern Illinois University, and holds degrees in both. He also researches tornadoes at Villanova University in Pennsylvania., where he's an associate professor of geography and the environment and geography program director.
How is climate change affecting the risk of tornadoes?
Stephen Strader: We actually know a lot more about climate change and hurricanes than we do tornadoes, because tornadoes tend to be very small – the widest tornado ever recorded is two and a half miles wide, and most are only a few 100 yards wide. Our models are not at that resolution.
What is concerning, though, is that it's not uncommon to have tornadoes associated with hurricanes because you have a very violent environment, and you have a lot of moisture. These ingredients tend to produce tornadoes.
Now that the rapid intensification of these hurricanes is becoming more frequent, where I'm going to bed and the hurricane is at Category 1, and I wake up and it's a Category 4, the question becomes: how are hurricanes changing and will that produce more tornadoes? If we end up with stronger and slower moving hurricanes producing more precipitation, the guess would be that tornadoes would also increase when they're associated with hurricanes.
The scary thing is: We really don't know yet.
How far away from a hurricane can tornadoes spawn? Hurricane Milton made landfall on the Gulf Coast, but on the Atlantic Coast, we saw a local record of 46 in a day, with five deaths in St. Lucie County alone.
Strader: They can occur 50 to 100 miles away from the center of the hurricane. When we think about a hurricane's impact, it's not just the eye wall. The tornadoes typically are further away from the eye wall. They have to be, because they need a lot of different ingredients than the hurricane.
What's scary about that to me is that the hurricane made landfall on the west coast of Florida, so on the east coast, people let their guard down. 'Oh, we're on the safe side of Florida'. But then here come the tornadoes. I think that contributed to a lot of the deaths and damages that we saw.
What can we do to better protect our communities from tornadoes – can we zone for them?
Strader: We can build stronger structures, enforce codes, retrofit structures – and we do that, but we need to do more of that. You can bring a manufactured home up to really strong codes, above and beyond what is required. It's just expensive. So the question now is, who pays for it, and how do we do that?
Zoning is difficult, and frankly, tourism reigns king. No one's going to not build in an area that's going to make them money every day. No developer, no business is going to do that.
Tornadoes are rare, hurricanes are fairly rare. So you're asking people to stop doing something that's going to make them money day to day, in favor of being worried about a low probability event. That's tricky. People tend to gamble.
But Florida is going to have to start asking the question: Do we zone? And really, it's because of sea level rise and flooding. The insurance companies have pulled out in a lot of states, and that's because it's just too risky. So, are people going to move away, or are they gonna be forced to move away?
This Q&A has been edited for brevity and clarity. This story is part of a periodic Miami Herald series where we answer reader questions about climate change. Send us yours at climate@miamiherald.com.
This climate report is funded by Florida International University, the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation and the David and Christina Martin Family Foundation in partnership with Journalism Funding Partners. The Miami Herald retains editorial control of all content.
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Miami Herald
11 hours ago
- Miami Herald
With more intense hurricanes, do we also have to prepare for more tornadoes in Florida?
We know that the warming climate, driven largely by fossil fuel emissions, are intensifying hurricanes. But what about tornadoes? To answer our readers' questions on the links between climate change and tornadoes and how we can improve safety, the Herald spoke spoke to hazards geographer Stephen Strader, who studied meteorology and geography at Northern Illinois University, and holds degrees in both. He also researches tornadoes at Villanova University in Pennsylvania., where he's an associate professor of geography and the environment and geography program director. How is climate change affecting the risk of tornadoes? Stephen Strader: We actually know a lot more about climate change and hurricanes than we do tornadoes, because tornadoes tend to be very small – the widest tornado ever recorded is two and a half miles wide, and most are only a few 100 yards wide. Our models are not at that resolution. What is concerning, though, is that it's not uncommon to have tornadoes associated with hurricanes because you have a very violent environment, and you have a lot of moisture. These ingredients tend to produce tornadoes. Now that the rapid intensification of these hurricanes is becoming more frequent, where I'm going to bed and the hurricane is at Category 1, and I wake up and it's a Category 4, the question becomes: how are hurricanes changing and will that produce more tornadoes? If we end up with stronger and slower moving hurricanes producing more precipitation, the guess would be that tornadoes would also increase when they're associated with hurricanes. The scary thing is: We really don't know yet. How far away from a hurricane can tornadoes spawn? Hurricane Milton made landfall on the Gulf Coast, but on the Atlantic Coast, we saw a local record of 46 in a day, with five deaths in St. Lucie County alone. Strader: They can occur 50 to 100 miles away from the center of the hurricane. When we think about a hurricane's impact, it's not just the eye wall. The tornadoes typically are further away from the eye wall. They have to be, because they need a lot of different ingredients than the hurricane. What's scary about that to me is that the hurricane made landfall on the west coast of Florida, so on the east coast, people let their guard down. 'Oh, we're on the safe side of Florida'. But then here come the tornadoes. I think that contributed to a lot of the deaths and damages that we saw. What can we do to better protect our communities from tornadoes – can we zone for them? Strader: We can build stronger structures, enforce codes, retrofit structures – and we do that, but we need to do more of that. You can bring a manufactured home up to really strong codes, above and beyond what is required. It's just expensive. So the question now is, who pays for it, and how do we do that? Zoning is difficult, and frankly, tourism reigns king. No one's going to not build in an area that's going to make them money every day. No developer, no business is going to do that. Tornadoes are rare, hurricanes are fairly rare. So you're asking people to stop doing something that's going to make them money day to day, in favor of being worried about a low probability event. That's tricky. People tend to gamble. But Florida is going to have to start asking the question: Do we zone? And really, it's because of sea level rise and flooding. The insurance companies have pulled out in a lot of states, and that's because it's just too risky. So, are people going to move away, or are they gonna be forced to move away? This Q&A has been edited for brevity and clarity. This story is part of a periodic Miami Herald series where we answer reader questions about climate change. Send us yours at climate@ This climate report is funded by Florida International University, the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation and the David and Christina Martin Family Foundation in partnership with Journalism Funding Partners. The Miami Herald retains editorial control of all content.
San Francisco Chronicle
2 days ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
PHOTO ESSAY: Behind-the-scenes moments as hail chasers learn about pounding and costly storms
MORTON, Texas (AP) — Even when Mother Nature turns nasty, the weather extremes carry a sense of awesome beauty. About 60 scientists this spring and early summer went straight into hailstorms to better understand what makes them tick and learn how to reduce the $10 billion in annual in damage they cause each year in the United States. When three Associated Press colleagues joined the scientists for several days, they found more than just hail, strong winds, rain and science in the storm. They found breathtaking sights and sounds to share. When there are dozens of scientists — many of them students — high-tech radar, weather balloons, hail collecting devices and storms that sometimes have tornadoes in them, someone has to make sure it all goes well and no one gets hurt. For the first few weeks of Project ICECHIP that someone was Victor Gensini, Northern Illinois University meteorology professor and one of the hail team's lead scientists. Gensini and his hand-picked students guided everyone like chess pieces via a computer program called Guru in his command vehicle. But he couldn't just sit back in the SUV and let others have the fun. He would drive close to the storm, not close enough to get the car damaged because unlike the Husky Hail Hunter he didn't have protective mesh hanging over the windshield. But he would get close enough to study, direct and just gaze in wonder at storms that would take over the horizon in the Texas panhandle and nearby Oklahoma and New Mexico. The clouds themselves tell the story of a roiling atmosphere. At times dark and dangerous, sometimes they are light with visible vertical stripes indicating downpours. And then a large bulging tornado can form and inspire awe and fear. There are small twisters that can also form and turn out just as dangerous. And finally if you are lucky at the end, there's a rainbow or two. One afternoon in the Texas panhandle, the hail chasing team could gaze out and see a double rainbow and a swirling twister that didn't quite reach the ground. The clouds aren't just beautiful above the vast plains. When they frame a building, such as the one sporting the Hollis Tigers mascot in Hollis, Texas, they combine to look menacing and stark. Two teams, the Red and the Black Teams, try to go ahead of the storm to see how it develops. They release wind balloons with instruments and GPS tracking that measure moisture, wind speed and direction. Inflating weather balloons is not a simple task. As gusty winds push, students scientists they have to inflate the balloon, tie it up, connect the instrument panel which is sealed in a disposable coffee cup with a lid on it. Then it's time to release the weather balloons. It's a two-person job with one holding the cup of instruments and the other the balloon. Releasing weather balloons isn't just letting them go. It's got to be done with some care — usually a 'one, two, three' and release — otherwise the instrument cup could slam into the balloon holder as an Associated Press reporter nearly found out the hard way. Once released, the balloons can fly as high as 60,000 feet or more. Or they can never quite get off the ground if there's a tiny hole in the balloon. There's also time to gawk as well as be scientists. Black Team members Evelynn Mantia and Olivena Carlisle, both of NIU, take photos of an approaching storm they have been monitoring. And once they finish, their job is to fall back a bit and then collect hail that has dropped. A storm hits, forcing one team to take cover The Red Team also releases weather balloons to get ahead of the storm and collect hail stones afterward. But the three students also get to go a bit into the storms. Ahead of the gathering storm, Ethan Mok and Wyatt Ficek release their balloon. In the first several days of the ICECHIP campaign, the Red Team earned a reputation for pushing the envelope. And on this late afternoon into early evening in New Mexico, the team, with Mok at the wheel, showed why. After releasing their balloons they went ahead into the storm as the skies darkened. The rain started coming down. Winds began to blow. They pulled over to take some pictures of the storm taking over the horizon. As they did, a semitruck sped down the road into the storm. Mok and team members laughed, saying the truck would have to turn around. The Red Team wasn't going to turn around. Photos taken, they drove off into the storm like the truck. The skies got even darker. Winds and rain intensified. Visibility out the windshield disappeared. Somewhat reluctantly, Mok finally pulled off the tiny road and waited. They watched the semitruck come back and try to flee the storm. They vehicle shook. They stared at weather radar and outside. Over the radio, Gensini had meteorology student Katie Wargowsky radio to them to get to safety. Mok quickly complied, trying to go south and around the storm and back to the chasers' hotel. The storm had other ideas. It overtook the Red Team. Hail was coming down. Wind was whipping. Visibility was gone. Wargowsky radioed for them to pull into a gas station for safety. Mok said he wished he could but the stretch of road was remote and there were no gas stations for cover. He had to barrel through, finally making it to a fast food drive-thru as reward. Scientist hail chasers see others rushing into storms Ever since the movie 'Twister,' storm chasing has gone from a scientific pursuit to an adrenaline filled, social media-stoked touristy pastime. As the scientific team of hail hunters chased down a massive storm system near Morton, Texas, car after car of storm chasers, some with creative license plates, zipped by. At times, storm chasers dotted the side of the road, cameras at the ready. Gensini, the project ICECHIP operations chief, often had to caution his team to be watchful of the crazy driving of the tornado chasers. They could be as much of a hazard as the storms themselves, Gensini cautioned. Tony Illenden drives the Husky Hail Hunter, one of the team's prime vehicles that goes right into the storms. It has mesh hanging above the windshield to protect it from being cracked. Illenden is careful with a helmet on his head to make sure it isn't cracked from hail when he goes out in the storm. Sometimes it comes awfully close. And once it came too close smacking his unprotected hand, which swelled up for a couple days and then was better. Collecting hail is a key part of the science. So researchers, wearing gloves so as not to warm up the ice balls, pick up the hail, put them in bags and then in coolers. Then they get crushed, sliced, measured, weighed and otherwise examined. With the red plains stretching out, a storm in its sheer magnificence forms an odd looking hole in the clouds. It's a signal of danger. The lower cloud is the wall cloud, where energy and moisture flows up. The cloud then forms lower. The empty space is the dangerous rear flank downdraft, which is cooler air pushing down with great force, getting wrapped around the backside of the wall cloud, team forecaster David Imy said. ___ The Associated Press' climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP's standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at
Associated Press
2 days ago
- Associated Press
PHOTO ESSAY: Behind-the-scenes moments as hail chasers learn about pounding and costly storms
MORTON, Texas (AP) — Even when Mother Nature turns nasty, the weather extremes carry a sense of awesome beauty. About 60 scientists this spring and early summer went straight into hailstorms to better understand what makes them tick and learn how to reduce the $10 billion in annual in damage they cause each year in the United States. When three Associated Press colleagues joined the scientists for several days, they found more than just hail, strong winds, rain and science in the storm. They found breathtaking sights and sounds to share. One person charged with keeping others safe When there are dozens of scientists — many of them students — high-tech radar, weather balloons, hail collecting devices and storms that sometimes have tornadoes in them, someone has to make sure it all goes well and no one gets hurt. For the first few weeks of Project ICECHIP that someone was Victor Gensini, Northern Illinois University meteorology professor and one of the hail team's lead scientists. Gensini and his hand-picked students guided everyone like chess pieces via a computer program called Guru in his command vehicle. But he couldn't just sit back in the SUV and let others have the fun. He would drive close to the storm, not close enough to get the car damaged because unlike the Husky Hail Hunter he didn't have protective mesh hanging over the windshield. But he would get close enough to study, direct and just gaze in wonder at storms that would take over the horizon in the Texas panhandle and nearby Oklahoma and New Mexico. The clouds themselves tell the story of a roiling atmosphere. At times dark and dangerous, sometimes they are light with visible vertical stripes indicating downpours. And then a large bulging tornado can form and inspire awe and fear. There are small twisters that can also form and turn out just as dangerous. And finally if you are lucky at the end, there's a rainbow or two. One afternoon in the Texas panhandle, the hail chasing team could gaze out and see a double rainbow and a swirling twister that didn't quite reach the ground. The clouds aren't just beautiful above the vast plains. When they frame a building, such as the one sporting the Hollis Tigers mascot in Hollis, Texas, they combine to look menacing and stark. Two teams work to gather data before storms hit Two teams, the Red and the Black Teams, try to go ahead of the storm to see how it develops. They release wind balloons with instruments and GPS tracking that measure moisture, wind speed and direction. Inflating weather balloons is not a simple task. As gusty winds push, students scientists they have to inflate the balloon, tie it up, connect the instrument panel which is sealed in a disposable coffee cup with a lid on it. Then it's time to release the weather balloons. It's a two-person job with one holding the cup of instruments and the other the balloon. Releasing weather balloons isn't just letting them go. It's got to be done with some care — usually a 'one, two, three' and release — otherwise the instrument cup could slam into the balloon holder as an Associated Press reporter nearly found out the hard way. Once released, the balloons can fly as high as 60,000 feet or more. Or they can never quite get off the ground if there's a tiny hole in the balloon. There's also time to gawk as well as be scientists. Black Team members Evelynn Mantia and Olivena Carlisle, both of NIU, take photos of an approaching storm they have been monitoring. And once they finish, their job is to fall back a bit and then collect hail that has dropped. A storm hits, forcing one team to take cover The Red Team also releases weather balloons to get ahead of the storm and collect hail stones afterward. But the three students also get to go a bit into the storms. Ahead of the gathering storm, Ethan Mok and Wyatt Ficek release their balloon. In the first several days of the ICECHIP campaign, the Red Team earned a reputation for pushing the envelope. And on this late afternoon into early evening in New Mexico, the team, with Mok at the wheel, showed why. After releasing their balloons they went ahead into the storm as the skies darkened. The rain started coming down. Winds began to blow. They pulled over to take some pictures of the storm taking over the horizon. As they did, a semitruck sped down the road into the storm. Mok and team members laughed, saying the truck would have to turn around. The Red Team wasn't going to turn around. Photos taken, they drove off into the storm like the truck. The skies got even darker. Winds and rain intensified. Visibility out the windshield disappeared. Somewhat reluctantly, Mok finally pulled off the tiny road and waited. They watched the semitruck come back and try to flee the storm. They vehicle shook. They stared at weather radar and outside. Over the radio, Gensini had meteorology student Katie Wargowsky radio to them to get to safety. Mok quickly complied, trying to go south and around the storm and back to the chasers' hotel. The storm had other ideas. It overtook the Red Team. Hail was coming down. Wind was whipping. Visibility was gone. Wargowsky radioed for them to pull into a gas station for safety. Mok said he wished he could but the stretch of road was remote and there were no gas stations for cover. He had to barrel through, finally making it to a fast food drive-thru as reward. Scientist hail chasers see others rushing into storms Ever since the movie 'Twister,' storm chasing has gone from a scientific pursuit to an adrenaline filled, social media-stoked touristy pastime. As the scientific team of hail hunters chased down a massive storm system near Morton, Texas, car after car of storm chasers, some with creative license plates, zipped by. At times, storm chasers dotted the side of the road, cameras at the ready. Gensini, the project ICECHIP operations chief, often had to caution his team to be watchful of the crazy driving of the tornado chasers. They could be as much of a hazard as the storms themselves, Gensini cautioned. Tony Illenden drives the Husky Hail Hunter, one of the team's prime vehicles that goes right into the storms. It has mesh hanging above the windshield to protect it from being cracked. Illenden is careful with a helmet on his head to make sure it isn't cracked from hail when he goes out in the storm. Sometimes it comes awfully close. And once it came too close smacking his unprotected hand, which swelled up for a couple days and then was better. Collecting hail is a key part of the science. So researchers, wearing gloves so as not to warm up the ice balls, pick up the hail, put them in bags and then in coolers. Then they get crushed, sliced, measured, weighed and otherwise examined. With the red plains stretching out, a storm in its sheer magnificence forms an odd looking hole in the clouds. It's a signal of danger. The lower cloud is the wall cloud, where energy and moisture flows up. The cloud then forms lower. The empty space is the dangerous rear flank downdraft, which is cooler air pushing down with great force, getting wrapped around the backside of the wall cloud, team forecaster David Imy said. ___ The Associated Press' climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP's standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at
