Stormchasing for an elusive lightning shot

OPINION

Corbet Deary
Corbet Deary


Spring is by far my favorite time of the year. And there are several reasons.

First and foremost, I always anticipate the annual spawn. The whites head upstream and congregate by the droves during late March and early April, lending to some of the most action-packed fishing throughout all seasons.

I am an avid black bass angler, however. And in turn, I most anticipate their annual spawn during mid to late April. Floating a worm, rigged wacky style is pretty darn exciting as well. It's not uncommon to coax 30 or more into biting during a day, and there's always the anticipation of landing that trophy that haunts the imagination of all anglers.

I also have a passion for locating, identifying and photographing wildflowers. And who on this earth would shrug at the beauty of a beautiful forest canopy dazzling with vibrant green foliage not yet showing the effects of insects and the dry summer heat.

This is also the time of the year when snakes begin to prowl, lending to dramatic photos, and I always anticipate that magical time when the Milky Way's galactic core becomes visible, providing an opportunity to capture incredible exposures lurking in the darkness.

But there is yet another reason that I often find myself peering and pointing my camera toward the heavens.

With the season comes thunderstorms. And with these ominous clouds often comes the opportunity to capture lightning dancing across the sky.

I follow the forecast on a daily basis with hopes that thunderstorms might lurk in the near future. And as the chance of these clouds increase, I find myself checking the local radar even more often.

It's not uncommon to look to my favorite weather app on an hourly basis as a front nears. And since a small disturbance can blossom into a significant storm in literally a matter of minutes, my eyes are practically glued to the screen of my phone or computer on such occasions.

I look most forward to storm complexes that will roll in during nighttime hours, as lightning is far easier to photograph during darkness for several reasons.

First and foremost, I have the luxury of longer exposures, which lends to a far greater success rate. But lightning photos taken under the cover of darkness are far more dramatic than those taken during the day. In fact, daytime shots are extremely hard to capture.

However, thats no indication that I totally ignore daytime storms. In fact, I recently made a mad dash to my office, secured my gear and was on my way upon hearing distant thunder during the late afternoon.

This was one of those instances when a storm suddenly blossoms. I had looked at the radar just an hour or so earlier, and although storms were moving across the corner of northwest Arkansas, their course would take them in a direction far from the Ouachitas. And the forecast suggested that any storms we might get would arrive during the late night hours.

But that was neither here nor there, as the distant rumbles were obviously getting closer. And the anticipation grew exponentially upon taking a closer look at the radar and watching the storm heading directly in the direction of Hot Springs.

The cloud was just north of town and was moving in a southeastward direction. The storm was moving quickly, and I had little time to spare. So I opted to make a beeline for the vista atop North Mountain.

I could see miles from that particular location and the ominous cloud had already darkened the sky. With a little luck I would arrive at my destination and have the camera secured to the tripod and pointed to the north prior to the arrival of heavy rains.

A severe thunderstorm warning was issued for Garland County just as I drove alongside Bathhouse Row, and strong winds arrived just as I began my ascent up the winding road leading to the vista. I could see flashes of distant lightning over the horizon. And as I continued, the wind grew even more intense.

But there was still hope that I was not too late. Not a drop of rain had hit the windshield, and I was only minutes away. But I was greeted by a torrential downpour just as I topped the hill and pulled into the parking lot.

The precipitation was so heavy that the distant lightning was diffused and appeared as nothing more than a faint flash in the sky. I had obviously missed this particular opportunity. But all was not lost, as there was still a chance that I might capture exposures as the cloud made her exit.

That in mind, I opted to to change my position. I would simply embark upon a short drive to West Mountain's summit from where I could easily see to the south.

The rains remained intense as I made the winding descent and drove along Whittington Avenue. In fact, the heavy precipitation remained until I reached the vista.

But the intensity soon began to dwindle as the cloud moved farther away. I had my camera secured to the tripod and was focused to infinity with ample time. But the intensity of the cloud seemed to have dissipated and what little lightning that was left was still diffused by the distant rainfall.

Of course, I was somewhat disappointed. But on the other hand, I still relished the opportunity to witness one of the many wonders of Mother Nature.


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