Western Snow Drought. Florida Snowier than Utah. But Is Relief Finally Coming To Rockies?

Judging from the white residue on the rock in the top
photo, Lake Powell was already very low several months
ago. Bottom photo is a recent picture. A Year Without
a Winter is creating dangerous water shortages
in much of the West 

While the East is having the kind of bitter cold and winter storms not seen in years or even decades, the West is enduring the Year Without A Winter. 

And that's getting worrisome. 

 Most of the Rocky Mountains are already in drought. This winter out west has been anything but wintry. The region has experienced springlike temperatures all season and it has barely snowed. 

Unless it snows hard and soon, the ground will dry out quickly in the spring, setting the stage for a horrific fire season.  Reservoirs and other water sources could get critically low. 

Wyoming, Utah, Nevada, Idaho and Colorado have all been running at least six degrees warmer than average this winter.  

Precipitation  is also running below normal this winter through most of the Rocky Mountain region. 

Much of what little has fallen came as rain, instead of the snow that normally falls. You need that deep mountain snow cover to feed reservoirs and to keep the forests fairly moist heading into wildfire season.  Thawing has been seen at elevations of 10,000 feet this winter, a time of year when snow should be continuously piling up on the mountaintops

Salt Lake City, Utah only had a trace of snow during January.  Marianna, Florida had 1.3 inches of snow in January. Snow flurries fell as far south as Sarasota, Florida.  

It didn't rain much in Utah either. Salt Lake City had 0.42 inches of precipitation in January, compared to a normal of 1.43 inches. On Sunday, SLC  tied their record high for the date at 64 degrees.

 As the  Washington Post tell us: 

Jon Meyer, the assistant state climatologist in Utah, said that Utah is 'officially in uncharted territory' in terms of the low snowpack,

It's even weirder than you'd think in Utah. Usually there's little evaporation during the winter in Utah as the landscape is normally mostly frozen or covered in snow. Oddly warm temperatures have left bare ground, and that is driving up evaporation rates, making drought worse. 

The snow pack in Washington State was just 26 percent of normal as January closed. The state was slammed by atmospheric rivers in December But those storms were so warm that rain fell almost all the way to the summits of the Cascades and volcanoes in the Pacific Northwest. 

In Colorado, snow cover as of February 1 was the lowest on record for the date, if  you measure through federal satellite data that began in 2001. Most snow monitoring stations in Colorado with records stretching back to the 1980s are at record or near record low levels, Colorado Public Radio reports. 

The lack of precipitation this winter in the headwaters of the Colorado River is the worst in the region. The Colorado River water ends up in Lake Powell, which stores \water for millions of people. Lake Powell water is also released to generate hydropower. The reservoir is the second largest in the United States.

So yes, Lake Powell is pretty damn important, and it turns into a crisis if it empties out too much. Which it is poised to do. 

Lake Powell is only about 25 percent full, and the water supply flowing into Lake Powell will be just 38 percent of normal through July, if current projections hold. 

In California, the winter got off to a pretty good start with some heavy storms depositing inches of rain and feet of snow in the Sierra Nevada mountains. But that moisture supply shut off in January. Statewide, snow water equivalent was only about 59 percent of normal as of January 30. The Sierra snowpack supplies about 30 percent of California's water needs.

Luckily, reservoirs in California are still full because the previous three winters were on the wet side. California is not in drought, though abnormally dry conditions crept into the extreme northwest corner of the state recently. 

The ski industry has taken a hit out west, too.  Vail in Colorado, for instance, is enduring a 20 percent drop in skier visits this winter. 

It's usually the western ski areas that are buried deep in snow while the east struggles. Usually, it's the western resorts that enjoy a few hundred inches of snow per winter. Not this year.  Mount Baker which has a national record for most snow in one season, with 1,140 inches, in Oregon, had only 280 inches of snow through the final days of January.

For perhaps the first time in memory, it's an eastern ski area that was, at least at the end of January, leading the charge. By the time January closed out, Jay Peak in northern Vermont had already collected 300 inches o snow. 

 SOME RELIEF

The persistent high pressure over the western U.S. that blocked storms from affecting the western third of the United States is breaking down, and storms are finally starting to move in. Forecasts give almost everyone in the Rocky Mountains region some precipitation over the next week.

Some areas of the Rocky Mountains are in for more than a foot of snow. The Sierra Nevada in California might see a few feet of new snow in the coming 10 days or so.

Any rain or snow will be welcome, but it's unclear how much precipitation will drop and how long the stormier pattern might last.

Still, the West needs much above average precipitation before the winter and early spring rainy season peters out. So far, at least, none of the storms in the forecast look exceptionally large .

The West might be looking at a long, hot, dangerous summer. 

 

  

 

Tuesday Evening Hurricane Milton Update: Grim Monster Continues Push Toward Florida

 Hurricane Milton remains a monster. 

Visible satellite view of Hurricane Milton late Tuesday
afternoon. Click on the pic to make it bigger and easy to
see. The main central swirl around the eye looks like a buzzsaw.

After re-arranging its eye during the morning and losing just a slight bit of steam,  Hurricane Milton reasserted itself and gained almost all of its previous power. Plus, it's a larger storm now. 

As of late this afternoon, the National Hurricane Center said Hurricane Milton was a Category 5 with top winds of 165 mph. It was 480 miles southwest of Tampa, Florida and heading in that general direction. 

Yeah, it sucks to put it mildly. 

The forecast track has shifted southward by the tiniest smidge. That raises some tentative hope that it will pass a little south of Tampa Bay. 

If that were to happen - and there is absolutely NO guarantee that it will - the storm surge in Tampa Bay would be a little less than the current dire 10 to 15 feet. But don't count on it. Plus, "a little less" is still a huge danger. 

The "cone of uncertainty," which is the zone in which Hurricane Milton could make landfall, could be as far north as a spot 60 miles north of Tampa. Remember, a path over or just north of Tampa Bay would yield the worst storm surge possible in Tampa Bay, due to the topography of the land around the bay. 

On the other hand, Hurricane Milton could come ashore as far south as Cape Coral, about 100 miles south of Tampa.  

In other words, anybody who is in an evacuation zone in Florida and hasn't left yet should flee now if not sooner. 

If this evening's projected path is spot on, it would come ashore near around metro Sarasota, which has a population of about 835,000.

Also remember that Hurricane Milton is expanding in size, and that trend will continue. As of late this afternoon, tropical force storm winds extend out 140 miles from Milton's eye. That area could double by the time Hurricane Milton is approaching Florida. 

Late Tuesday afternoon forecasts have tropical force winds of 39 mph or more, and the beginnings of a storm surge should be starting not long after noon tomorrow on Florida's Gulf Coast. It will be too late to get out of way of the storm tomorrow. 

By the time Hurricane Milton reaches the Florida coast, upper level winds and an approaching front from the north will be trying to weaken the storm. But it will be too little, too late. Top winds are forecast to be 125 mph with higher gusts at landfall..

And a last minute reduction in wind speeds won't translate to a lower storm surge. 

Often when a hurricane is beginning to weaken, the south side of the storm has the higher winds. This time, it might be the north side that has the most ferocious winds. So even if the center of Milton passes a little south of Tampa, the winds would be super destructive, even if the storm surge ends up being a little less than the more dire forecasts.

So Tampa really can't win here. 

Hurricane force winds will blast across all of central Florida coast to coast overnight Wednesday and into Thursday. 

WHAT THIS MEANS FOR PEOPLE

Like I mentioned, people who did not evacuate from the storm surge area are in deep, deep trouble. 

Much like in Helene, Florida officials told people who choose not to evacuate from vulnerable areas to mark their names and date of birth on their arms with permanent marker so officials can identify their bodies later. 

Emergency managers said they were able to conduct a few water rescues in Florida during Hurricane Helene's storm surge. That won't be the case with more powerful Hurricane Milton. They told residents if don't leave by noon Wednesday, they are on their own. Nobody will come to rescue them when the water rises. 

Of course, I have to wonder about the welfare of some of the people who heeded warnings and evacuated. Some people don't have the means to evacuate from danger zones are doing. What if you don't have a car? How do you escape?  Just the cost of travel, accommodations in an evacuation can easily cost $500 or more.  A lot of  people don't have that kind of money lying around. So do they hunker down and hope for the best? 

Do people deserve to die in a hurricane for the "sin" of not having enough income?

There are shelters that have opened in public buildings on high ground for some of these storm surge refugees, but is there room for all of them?

Much of Florida is now shutting down as the storm bears down.

Tampa International Airport closed this morning. Orlando's airport shuts down tomorrow morning. Walt Disney World and Universal in Orlando as of this afternoon were staying open, perhaps unwisely, though campgrounds in wooded areas are closing for fear of falling trees.

As of this evening, nobody is allowed access to barrier islands off the southwest Florida coast.  If there are any stragglers still in homes on the barrier islands, they'll still be allowed to flee. But time is running short. 

President Biden canceled planned trips to Germany and Angola to monitor the hurricane. 

Downtown Tampa looked like a ghost town by Tuesday afternoon. The normally bustling area was almost devoid of cars and pedestrians, and businesses were either closed or shutting down operations until after the storm. 

I haven't mentioned climate change in most of these updates as I'm mostly focusing on the immediate impacts of this storm. But many aspects of Hurricane Milton are at least consistent with climate change. I'll get into that in a future post, once we catch our breath for this latest sure to be deadly and expensive calamity. 

 

Wednesday Afternoon Vermont Freeze Update: Possibly Worse Than Earlier Forecasts

Visible satellite view this afternoon. Those big choppy
clouds over northeastern Vermont, Quebec, northern
New Hampshire and Maine represent the core of the 
coldest air aloft. Notice the smaller clouds in western
and southern Vermont signaling the coldest air
aloft is departing. But the clear skies in New
York will move in, creating perfect conditions
for a frigid, possibly record breaking cold night. 

 We should start this with a caveat: It's always really tricky to predict the severity of a weird cold snap, even hours before it happens. Especially the nighttime temperatures. Any number of factors could make things worse than forecast, or not as bad as forecast. 

You don't know which way it'll go until after it happens. 

That said, some signs late this afternoon are kind of pointing to lower temperatures than previously forecast. Record lows are a now more likely. The record low tomorrow in Burlington is 29 degrees. Earlier forecast pegged tonights low at 33 degrees. Now, they're saying it'll get to 30 in Burlington. 

In Montpelier, earlier forecasts had lows in the upper 20s. Now, the forecast low is 24 in Montpelier, The record low is 28 degrees in Montpelier, so they should beat that. 

For one thing, it was cloudier today than originally expected. There were even snow flurries in many, many towns across northern and central Vermont. We didn't see any accumulation, but the snow flakes in the air weren't necessarily making people happy. 

The clouds held afternoon temperatures down below what they would have reached had there been more sunshine. 

At 4 p.m. today, around the time of day when the high temperature is set, it was still only 39 degrees in Montpelier. Burlington was at 46 degrees, compared to a normal high of 70 degrees. 

All this means that temperatures won't have as far to fall to reach the freezing point, and could go lower than what was forecast. 

Another problem is the reason why the clouds hung tough. An upper level pool of very cold air, some of the coldest upper air temperatures on record for this time of year, lingered stubbornly, centered over the middle of Quebec. 

The instability caused by this cold pool helped create the clouds and flurries. The cold upper level gyre started moving out more slowly than forecast, so temperatures high up aren't recovering as fast as they would have had this stupid thing moved faster. 

That will help encourage colder overnight temperatures. 

However, the cold pool is now moving away in time for cold high pressure with clear skies and light winds to move in this evening, and stay put all night through dawn tomorrow. Those are perfect conditions for temperatures to fall as low as the possibly can. 

Here's yet another reason to think we're at risk for particularly low temperatures. We have been really dry lately. Over the past two weeks, for instance, Burlington has had just 0.02 inches of rain. If rainfall had been normal, we'd have gotten at least 1.5 inches during that period. 

When the ground is wet, that adds humidity to the atmosphere, making it harder for temperatures at night to fall as low as they otherwise would. Dry ground is not providing much humidity, so that's not a factor. This is a big reason why deserts often have torrid afternoons and chilly nights.

There's also some wildfire smoke aloft due to those fires in Alberta. The smoke would slightly make daytimes cooler by blocking a little sunlight. But unlike clouds, smoke does not prevent temperatures from crashing on clear, calm nights.  

Here's one thing to hope for: If the wind keeps stirring all night, that would hold temperatures up a bit. 

I am worried now about apple crops and such. The blooms on these trees start to die when temperatures reach 29 or lower.  Some areas will get that cold. Luckily, apple orchards on the Champlain Islands will very likely stay warm enough to avoid that scenario.

 We might even see areas where newly leafed out trees actually lose many of their leaves. That happens when the temperature hits 26 or so, or lower. Nice green leaves could wilt or turn black and then fall off. Which is depressing. 

Unless a particular tree is already in rough shape they'll recover and sprout new leaves if this happens. There won't be any long term harm. But, as in my case, the leaves - early this year - are affording me privacy from the road and neighbors. If it gets bad tonight, I'll now have to wait until at least mid-June for that privacy to return. 

We won't know exactly where temperatures bottom out until around 6 or 7 tomorrow morning. It might take until afternoon until we know the extend of frost damage. 

Kentucky Flash Flood Weighs On Me More Than Most Other Climate Disasters

Like most Americans, I'm in shock and in mourning over this past week's mega flash flood in Kentucky. 

In a photo posted on Twitter by @ShawnRichards,
a 98-woman is trapped in her flooded 
Kentucky home. She was later rescued
and is now reported to be safe.

At last report, the confirmed death toll is at 26, including four children.  More are missing and the death toll will rise.  These stats are awful, but don't haunt me as much as the photos from the flood zone. 

There was one pic on social media showing a 98 year old woman trying to balance on a chair floating in three feet of water inside her Kentucky home. (She was later rescued and was reported to be safe). 

Or a road that once had a row of house. The houses are gone now, leaving behind a couple concrete slabs.  What happened to the people in those houses?

The flash flood hit in the middle of the night. Eight inches of rain poured down on steep terrain already waterlogged by repeated rounds of thunderstorms in the past month. This was the second 1 in 1,000 year flood to hit a part of the United States within a week. (St. Louis was hit a couple days earlier).

The timing of this cataclysmic flood could not have been worse. It was the middle of the night. Maybe the sound of the initial downpours roaring on the roofs that evening lulled people into a relaxing sleep. They certainly weren't ready to hear the flash flood warnings. Plus, the water came so fast, who could react in time?

Walls of water and mud poured off the slopes in the darkness. Victims awoke to the sound of rushing water and debris flowing into their homes, or making their homes float away while they were inside. It had to be beyond terrifying. You couldn't see in the darkness, you couldn't find your loved ones as the cold water and debris battered their houses, and their bodies. 

That hundreds of people have been rescued is in itself a miracle. And a testament to the bravery of Kentuckians who went out on this rescue missions.

The Kentucky disaster affected me more than most of the other stream of climate related disasters we've had this year, and in the past few. Yes, this one was probably climate driven. Heavy rain storms are now heavier under a climate change regime. What might have been a problematic flash flood a few decades ago was catastrophic now. 

First of all, it's not like Kentucky needed another storm crisis. 

As the New York Times reports in this run on sentence: 

"'I wish I could tell you why we keep getting hit here in Kentucky,' Gov Andy Beshear said during a briefing in which he updated residents on the rising death toll and displayed a sense of anguish and exhaustion that many in the state have felt after recurring disasters, including a powerful ice storm last year that cut off power to 150,000 people in eastern Kentucky, a flash flood last July that left many stranded in their homes and a rare December tornado that carved a nearly 200-mile path of destruction that killed 80 people."

The other disasters, and this week's flood in particular, hit people that have even fewer resources to deal with kind of thing that most people. 

An irony of the Kentucky flood is it hit coal country. But the coal industry is now greatly diminished, as the world works toward finding other sources of energy other than things like coal, which contribute greatly to climate change. 

This declining coal industry left Appalachia, including the flood zone, even more impoverished than it was before. Which means the people suffering most from this disaster the fewest means to recover from it 

And no, before you leap to conclusions, I'm not blaming the former coal miners and their families for the flash flood that just ruined their lives. They are innocent in this whole thing.

This terrible flood hit kind of close to home for me, too. I grew up in Vermont, which at first glance cannot seem more different than the hollows of eastern Kentucky. 

You can see in the news footage that this flood did not hit the kind of quaint, prosperous and pretty villages Vermont is famous for. The disaster zone was pretty gritty even before the first drops of rain fell last week. 

But there really are a lot of similarities between Vermont and eastern Kentucky. I grew up in West Rutland, Vermont. Don't get me wrong, West Rutland is a wonderful small town. But it's not touristy Woodstock or Stowe. It's decidedly working class. People in West Rutland don't have million dollar bank accounts handy to recover from setbacks. 

And it's surrounded by steep mountains. There's also a lot of winding back, gravel roads and blacktop rural lanes that wind up and down these hills. Modest houses, many more than you'd think, are hidden in these woods. I just pictured the same storm that hit Kentucky roaring through West Rutland and environs. And shuddered. 

Most other areas of Vermont, away from the tourist destinations, are very much like West Rutland.

We're certainly not immune from these terrible flash floods. Vermont has essentially the same terrain as eastern Kentucky. It's easy for heavy rains to prompt terrible flash floods and we certainly have a history of those. November, 1927. September, 1938. June, 1973. August, 1995. July, 1997. June, 1998. the spring floods of 2011. Tropical Storm Irene, August, 2011.

Those floods all caused tremendous damage in Vermont, and some of them resulted in deaths. There's videos on YouTube of serious Irene flooding in West Rutland. 

But climate change ups the ante. It could even possibly be much worse than that video taken from a truck splashing through 2011 West Rutland flood waters. The Kentucky flood was "impossible" until it happened. Other impossible extremes are also happening. Will the impossible happen in Vermont? I really don't know. 

My mother died in May, and now the West Rutland house where she lived and where I grew up in is up for sale. A nice young couple is interested in buying it. The house isn't near any creeks or streams. It's on a hill, not a flood plain. I don't recall it ever suffering any kind of flood damage. 

But the stakes are now higher. If this couple buys the house, I don't think they'll ever have to deal with flooding. If they buy, I hope the enjoy the place for many, many years.

But suddenly, I no longer am that sure that house will survive a climate disaster. Or my house in St. Albans, Vermont. Or anybody else's house for that matter.

It's not that I stay up all night worrying about it. But that thought is in the back of my head. And if we're honest, it's in the back of many people's heads. It probably was for some of the flood victims in Kentucky, and then the nightmare became a reality. 

The chances of an "impossible" weather calamity hitting any individual is low. But unlike in past decades, the impossible is now possible. As Kentucky and St. Louis demonstrated last week.