The cloud On July 25, 2010, driving home from Sylvan Lake, Alberta, the road became wet and visibility was reduced by scattered thunder showers. It was evening, with the sun low in the sky, at times peering out in the distance. It projected brief but gorgeous rainbows that illuminated the gloomy backdrop to the east. At some point the haziness slowly began to dissipate, revealing a dark, unusual but beautiful, wavy cloud outline. My appreciation for clouds was about to change. As the sky cleared, the outline revealed itself to be the edge of something much greater. What lie ahead was a massive cloud, ominous and commanding, with a clearly visible spinning motion at it’s center. The contrast between this dark cloud, and the soft light of the low sun was breathtaking. I experienced awe, reverence, then fear, as the cloud made it’s way from just off the side of the road, to intersecting our path on the highway. With drivers unsure and uncertain, the highway quickly became a parking lot, as no one dare cross it’s path. It brought a downpour, followed by what appeared to be golf ball sized hail. We all waited for the unexpected. The unexpected never happened. As the cloud progressed past the highway, there was a sense of relief. Cautiously the vehicles resumed their journey. I would later find out I had witnessed the mesocyclone of a low precipitation supercell, which are know to spawn tornados. I have never since looked at clouds quite the same way… Above photo © Chris Bellamy Brandon Brown chased this storm, his account can be found here. Jaunque’s video Mountain View County, Alberta storm shows the beautifully insidious wavy outline of the initial encounter with the cloud. After the storm I always have my iPhone on me, but unfortunately I accidentally submerged it in the lake that day. It would be three days until I could use it again. My DSLR was in the trunk, I couldn’t pull over to get it, traffic was heavy, the highway was slick, and everyone’s eyes were on that cloud! It was also tense in that no one could predict what it would do next. We were forced to stop when we were hit with hail, and allowed it to make it’s way across the highway. Once the storm subsided, their was a sense of relief as I retrieved my camera from the trunk and captured these few shots after it had crossed the highway. These photos © Jon Pernul // djonstyle

The cloud

On July 25, 2010, driving home from Sylvan Lake, Alberta, the road became wet and visibility was reduced by scattered thunder showers. It was evening, with the sun low in the sky, at times peering out in the distance. It projected brief but gorgeous rainbows that illuminated the gloomy backdrop to the east. At some point the haziness slowly began to dissipate, revealing a dark, unusual but beautiful, wavy cloud outline. My appreciation for clouds was about to change. As the sky cleared, the outline revealed itself to be the edge of something much greater.

What lie ahead was a massive cloud, ominous and commanding, with a clearly visible spinning motion at it’s center. The contrast between this dark cloud, and the soft light of the low sun was breathtaking. I experienced awe, reverence, then fear, as the cloud made it’s way from just off the side of the road, to intersecting our path on the highway.

With drivers unsure and uncertain, the highway quickly became a parking lot, as no one dare cross it’s path. It brought a downpour, followed by what appeared to be golf ball sized hail. We all waited for the unexpected.

The unexpected never happened. As the cloud progressed past the highway, there was a sense of relief. Cautiously the vehicles resumed their journey.

I would later find out I had witnessed the mesocyclone of a low precipitation supercell, which are know to spawn tornados.

I have never since looked at clouds quite the same way…

Above photo © Chris Bellamy

Brandon Brown chased this storm, his account can be found here.

Jaunque’s video Mountain View County, Alberta storm shows the beautifully insidious wavy outline of the initial encounter with the cloud.

After the storm

I always have my iPhone on me, but unfortunately I accidentally submerged it in the lake that day. It would be three days until I could use it again. My DSLR was in the trunk, I couldn’t pull over to get it, traffic was heavy, the highway was slick, and everyone’s eyes were on that cloud! It was also tense in that no one could predict what it would do next. We were forced to stop when we were hit with hail, and allowed it to make it’s way across the highway. Once the storm subsided, their was a sense of relief as I retrieved my camera from the trunk and captured these few shots after it had crossed the highway.

These photos © Jon Pernul // djonstyle

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