reception—and all the data we were desperately
dependent on for radar apps and communication.
We couldn’t see beyond 20 feet, and the hail was so
loud we had to shout to communicate. Our road was
on an intersecting path with the tornado.
That’s when Nick called it. “We have to bail,” he
yelled. “This is too much!”
Krystle abruptly changed direction, punching
the car north onto a country road. For the next
hour we were battered by large hail as we escaped
the madness of that dangerous chase. Purged of
adrenaline, disappointed and defeated, we knew
that retreating was the right thing to do. But ratio-
nality can be gutting.
We weren’t done. Nick located another supercell
not far from where we were. Off we went in hot pur-
suit—as if nature hadn’t humbled us enough for one
day. After a stretch of clear skies, we found the storm
waiting for us—a dreamlike immensity with rotating
updrafts, and the “mother ship” supercell above.
This time, we managed to get in front of it. Then
we pulled over near the grain silos in Imperial,
Nebraska, and watched in awe as the stunning for-
mation surged across the landscape, unleashing
hell below. For hours we followed the storm on its
brutal path, stopping to photograph its majesty and
racing back to the car to avoid its wrath.
A little past midnight, we let the storm go. We
watched as the lightning-filled cloud rolled away,
illuminating the night sky—a beautiful reward for
those reckless enough to seek it. j
Keith Ladzinski has photographed U.S. national parks, China’s
karst rock towers, France’s Verdon Gorge, and Antarctica for
National Geographic.FEBRUARY 2020 27