It’s 4:55 AM on a March day at the National
Weather Services’ Twin Cities forecast facility when the morning stillness is broken by the
rattle of a garage door opening. As they do every single morning of every single
day, a meteorologist working the station’s Public Service Desk is launching a helium
and hydrogen-filled latex balloon connected to an expendable radiosonde by 80 feet of
string. At the very same time, meteorologists from
the other 91 NWS radiosonde stations across the US, along with hundreds from around the
globe, are launching their own upper-air atmospheric soundings. In the next two hours, these balloons will
climb up to 100,000 feet, or 30,000 meters into the atmosphere, drifting as far as 200
miles or 320 kilometers from their launch point while their payload, about the weight
of a grapefruit, relays temperature, air pressure, and humidity data back to the station. The technology might be simple, but the readings
from various altitudes captured every 12 hours are simply irreplaceable. These data—transmitted by radio frequency
then scrubbed for errors by the meteorologist that launched the balloon in the first place—will
get compiled and plugged into impossibly complex models in the National Centers for Environmental
Prediction, and then archived at the National Climate and Data Center. But that’s later. Right now, as the Minneapolis meteorologist
follows their highly standardized routine one reading catches their eye. The barometer reads 1,017 millibars—a high
pressure front’s developing. For our meteorologist, an arctic cold front
means a few more freezing commutes and balloon launches. For the rest of the US, it might not mean
much, or it might present a problem—but that’s not a conclusion the data from a
single balloon can possibly offer. To fulfill their task of telling the public
what’s to come, the US’ National Weather Service is going to need far, far more data. To start, the NWS operates 160 high-resolution
Doppler weather radars, each dedicating seven seconds an hour to emitting quick bursts of
energy, then the rest listening for its return to interpret what’s present in the sky—water
or air. The multi-million dollar installations are
spread out across the fifty states, Puerto Rico, Guam, and uniquely, at one US military
base in Okinawa, Japan, and two others in South Korea—putting the American National
Weather Service in the exceptional position of maintaining near-complete weather radar
coverage over a foreign country. In the US itself, most metro areas are covered,
and the deployment of the system was credited with increasing average tornado warning times
from four to eleven minutes, but still, meaningful gaps exist. While gaps over sparsely-populated western
states are inconvenient obstacles to accurate forecasts, the NWS lacks visibility into some
slivers of the area known as Tornado Alley—an area that relies on these radars to give them
the notice needed to get into shelters when a tornado does form. With these NEXRAD radars now out of production
and every existing one in use, there is little opportunity for improvement short of a costly
system-wide upgrade, but for the most part, these 160 radars get the job done and form
the foundation of the agency’s data-collection mission. But as groundbreakingly effective radar technology
is, it’s a proxy for measurements actually taken in the sky. This is why the NWS goes through the effort
to launch those hundreds of weather balloons daily, but of course, planes are already up
there anyways. Not only that, but the typical commercial
aircraft already has the instruments necessary to observe atmospheric conditions, so that’s
why the World Meteorological Organization set up the Aircraft Meteorological Data Relay
system. 43 airlines around the world—including Alaska,
American, Delta, FedEx, Hawaiian, Southwest, United, and UPS—have agreed to collect meteorological
data in-flight and transmit it to the WMO via satellite or VHF radio. Meteorologists describe these data as crucial
to the accuracy of forecasts, since such frequency of atmospheric data cannot be inexpensively
obtained through any other means. In fact, forecasts globally became meaningfully
less accurate at the start of the COVID pandemic due to the loss of much of these data as air
travel took a downturn. But as important high-altitude data is to
predicting what’s to come on the ground, the NWS still needs to know what’s happening
on the ground right now. For that, there are 900 automated surface
observation systems, again spread out across the entire country, primarily at airports. These include a suite of sensors—temperature,
air pressure, humidity, cloud coverage, and more—that automatically report data back
to the NWS, and also automatically broadcast a radio frequency that pilots can use to gain
valuable intel into conditions at their destination airport. Some observations, however, cannot be efficiently
achieved through automated means. Some require the human touch. Precipitation—whether in rain, snow, or
something in between—is largely measured by a hoard of unpaid civilian volunteers,
donating their time to run 9,000 cooperative observer system sites across the country. Each follows strict protocol to provide the
NWS with a daily precipitation measurement for their local area, which is the primary
manner through which forecasters validate their forecasts—if they see that precipitation
is constantly under their prediction in a given area, they’ll adjust, and vice-versa. These data are also crucial for establishing
long-term trends—it was this program, for example, that observed that average precipitation
in the US has grown 7.8% since 1901 due to warming temperatures allowing the atmosphere
to hold more water. A similar, even larger program exists called
SKYWARN, where 350,000 trained volunteer weather spotters work with the NWS to act as their
eyes on the ground. These volunteers, many of which are amateur
radio enthusiasts that use their skills to communicate observations regardless of external
conditions, track severe weather to both allow the NWS to alert others of what’s to come
and to help them validate their weather models and forecasts. But weather is global, and therefore in order
to give Americans their forecast, the National Weather Service requires data from beyond
the American states, territories, and few foreign radar sites. That’s why the World Meteorological Organization
exists. This specialized United Nations agency has
myriad responsibilities, but perhaps the most pivotal centers around ensuring different
national forecasters can and do cooperate. As of a few years ago, data-sharing is mandatory
among all WMO members, meaning the US’ NWS gets meteorological data from its foreign
counterparts, and vice versa, regardless of their geopolitical status, thus improving
the quality of forecasts for all. As one of the world’s preeminent meteorological
organizations, the National Weather Service does, however, have some extra help in gathering
data from the rest of the world: satellites. For decades now, a rotating cast of satellites
have held two geostationary positions called GOES-east and GOES-west, streaming down a
deluge of imagery and meteorological data to the agency’s ground-station on Wallops
Island, Virginia. GOES-east and west are currently operated
by the GOES-16 and 17 satellites, respectively. In addition, the older GOES-15 satellite sits
next to GOES-17 to provide redundant coverage, due to a reliability issue with 17, while
GOES-14 sits powered-down in a storage orbit in case an issue with another requires a quick
replacement—any gap in coverage from GOES east or west would impact forecast accuracy
for hundreds of millions of Americans. Meanwhile, GOES-18 was launched in March,
2022 and will soon replace GOES-17 to operate as GOES-west. While these are focused on high-frequency,
ongoing coverage of the US and its immediate surroundings, the agency also operates a non-geostationary
satellite in a polar orbit to provide less-frequent yet still important data and imagery of the
rest of the world. A secondary function of these GOES satellites
is to act as a means of communication for the most remote NWS observation stations on
earth: buoys. Stationed hundreds or thousands of miles offshore,
weather buoys provide a glimpse into areas of the earth entirely devoid of humans or
civilization, but full of weather that could soon impact them. The network is run by NOAA’s National Data
Buoy Center, and each transmits near real-time conditions from the Great Lakes, Gulf of Mexico,
Atlantic, and Pacific, including giving life-saving warning of potential impending tsunamis, for
example. More typically, however, they provide the
same data land-based stations offer, but in an area useful for giving coastal regions
a heads up of what’s to come. On the hour, buoys record temperature and
pressure which is subsequently relayed by the GOES satellites to the mainland and the
supercomputers vacuuming up all possible data to help project an accurate weather model. The inclusion of these data may prove a good
thing, too, as the same time that the weather balloon floating over Minnesota is picking
up an in-bound high pressure front, this buoy, #42019 off the coast of Texas, is reading
an above average air temperature and a below average air pressure. For local forecasters, buoy station 42019,
along with other readings, hint at a developing low-pressure front—some rain might be arriving
along the gulf here soon. But as weather models render—taking into
account both an arctic front descending across the midwest and a warm, moisture-laden front
developing across the gulf, a little rain might soon be the least of the NWS’s worries. Weather develops at very different scales
and to very different consequences. To protect the individual, the thousands,
and the millions, the NWS has to predict weather developments at varying scales. These predictions of all size and shape all
largely emanate from here, the National Centers for Environmental Prediction’s Weather Prediction
Center, where data from balloons, buoys, planes, and satellites the world over pours into various
weather models. While the NWS produces a bevy of different
models, they broadly all work the same. In each, numbers representing observed environmental
conditions are plugged into a myriad of equations, the results of which, once overlaid on a map,
offer both an approximate snapshot of the current atmospheric conditions and a simulated
future that predicts how weather patterns will develop and move. While the same data, the same math, and the
same laws of physics undergird all weather modeling, it’s a model’s resolution and
range that differentiates one from the next. The High Resolution Rapid Refresh model, for
example, with its 2 mile, 3 kilometer resolution; its real-time visualizations; and its every-hour
updating, offers unmatched detail and accuracy on the development of rapid-moving thunderstorms
over the next hour, providing meteorologists more confidence in offering severe weather
warnings. What it can’t do is zoom out temporally
or spatially to forecast nationwide developments even hours into the future—it’s scope
is too focused. It can tell you to evacuate now, but can’t
help you decide to bring a rain jacket tomorrow. To help inform such important decisions between
rain jackets or sunscreen, meteorologists use the North American Mesoscale model, which
offers lower resolution than the HRRR but identifies patterns then forecasts their paths
out to 61 hours. For an even broader picture, the NWS relies
on the Global Forecast System which again takes a broader view than the NAW but is able
to interpret atmospheric patterns and weather developments of global scale and to predict
out to 10 days in the future—critical in tracking the long development of hurricanes,
for instance. Together, these models are incredibly powerful
predictive tools. Running all these models, in turn, requires
incredibly powerful computers. What makes all these models possible are two
of the largest supercomputers in the US. In the wake of the NWS’s Global Forecast
System failing to identify the dangerous potential of Hurricane Sandy, Congress green-lit increased
funding for NOAA. The result was the 2016 announcement that
NOAA had increased its computing power 10-fold with the introduction of two supercomputers
in Reston, Virginia and Orlando, Florida. The $45 million addition put the 18th fastest
computer in the US in the hands of NOAA which effectively evened the playing field between
the NWS and its European counterpart. Doubling down on the modernization effort,
NOAA again invested in its supercomputers in 2018, adding 60% more storage and more
than doubling their computing capacity—moves which made room for updates and improvements
to its models, from the HRRR to the GFS. Importantly, and further justifying such investment,
these super computers are not only tasked to run and re-run and re-run atmospheric models
all day, every day, they’re also tasked with creating ensemble models—effectively
running the same models time and time again with the parameters slightly changed to reflect
the random chance of real world weather, and to therefore give forecasters an idea of the
degree of uncertainty for a given prediction. If the forecast holds up despite the random
chance thrown in by the ensemble model, it’s more certain, and vice versa. Together, these various models and the supercomputers
that run them nonstop are immensely complex and extremely expensive. In the past they have proved incredibly valuable
when extreme weather arises, and in the future, as far-flung, disparate signs of storms quietly
develop, they’ll prove critical to meteorologists again. Hours after the launch of a weather balloon
in Minnesota and a buoy’s upload off the coast of Texas on an early March day they’re
proving their worth again as GFS forecasts, and then ensemble GFS forecasts are beginning
to project with higher confidence that a storm of significant destructive potential may be
brewing. In the days prior, as millibars dropped over
Texas, GFS models had identified the early stages of what meteorologists call a Gulf
Low. Now with buoys proving such predictions correct,
and with the concurrent development of a dropping cold front, they can now predict its direction
and potential severity. While this Gulf Low seems to be mirroring
historical patterns in that it too is primed to move a mountain of moisture out of the
Gulf of Mexico, this particular storm, thanks to the deepening cold front and a U-shaped
gulf stream, doesn’t look like it will track along the western edge of the Appalachians,
but rather, through some of the most densely populated regions of the American east coast. According to GFS forecasting, snow, and a
lot of it, is headed northeast. Of course, forecasts are meaningless by themselves. To avoid the disaster of an unprepared populace
in the firing line of an impending winter storm—plows still in the parking lot, stores
without extra stock, kids still in school, commuters on the road at the wrong time—the
National Weather Service has to actually communicate what’s to come. To achieve this, the agency has 122 weather
forecast offices distributed across the fifty states, Puerto Rico, and Guam, each responsible
for a dedicated zone of the country. The couple dozen staff in each work 24/7 to
interpret models and issue forecasts for their surrounding region. Perhaps most importantly, though, they monitor
and issue alerts for the most localized, and often most dangerous threats—severe thunderstorm,
flash flood, tornado warnings and more all come from local WFOs. The on-the-ground presence also allows WFOs
to tailor their activities to what’s necessary for the people they serve. The Fairbanks, Alaska WFO issues a daily climbing
weather forecast for nearby Denali—America’s tallest mountain. The Dodge City, Kansas WFO, surrounded by
hundreds of miles of wheat fields, reports daily soil temperatures so farmers can optimize
their yields. The Grand Junction, Colorado WFO monitors
and reports fire weather conditions—alerting the wildfire-prone area it’s responsible
for to the daily risk of one starting and spreading, and therefore informing campfire
bans, electric grid shutdowns, and more. Like most WFOs in fire-prone areas, the Grand
Junction office also staffs an Incident Meteorologist who is prepared to quickly deploy to the field
and embed in a wildfire camp to issue highly-specific forecasts used by aerial firefighting pilots,
hot shot crews, and other firefighters to safely approach and attack the burn. Finally, the local WFOs are responsible for
many of the NWS’ on-the-ground operations, from maintaining doppler radars and automated
surface observation stations to running the local NWS Twitter account and far, far more. Ultimately, though, certain weather is just
too big or otherworldly to be handled by small, local WFOs. For that, there are the national offices. Some are straightforward. Rivers, for example, run for hundreds or thousands
of miles through countless WFO zones, so there’s an additional system of thirteen river forecast
centers that split up the lower 48 and Alaska more or less based on watershed, issuing forecasts
for their rivers’ flows and, most importantly, their flood risk. Perhaps the best-known of these national offices
is the National Hurricane Center, based in a bunker-like building in Miami, Florida that’s
designed and certified to survive and operate through a category five hurricane—the most
severe level. They have the stressful task of predicting
the paths and intensities of hurricanes. If they get it right and people prepare, lives
will be saved. If they miss the forecast, lives will be lost—and
they potentially do this all while a hurricane passes directly over them. For this reason, the system is structured
so the National Weather Prediction Center in College Park, Maryland is prepared to take
over responsibilities in an instant if the Miami center GOES offline during a storm,
while there’s also an additional office in Honolulu, Hawaii that staffs up if a comparatively
rare central Pacific hurricane forms. Most uniquely, the National Weather Service
is also responsible for forecasting the weather not only beyond the borders of the US, but
beyond the borders of this world. The NWS’ Space Weather Prediction Center
in Boulder, Colorado takes in data from the GOES satellites and terrestrial sensors to
report current and forecast future solar radiation and other space weather. This isn’t just for the novelty, as high
solar radiation activity, for example, can impact the human world. High frequency radio gets disrupted during
solar flares, so commercial aircraft can’t fly routes over the poles where they rely
on it to talk to Air Traffic control if the center has forecasted high levels of radiation—and
that’s just the very start of issues solar flares can cause. Ultimately, though, the totality of the National
Weather Service’s work—the thousands of hourly observations from across the world
and beyond, the full processing might of two incredible supercomputers, the collective
efforts of thousands of highly-trained individuals—all distills down to this: a couple-megabyte XML
data feed updated every few minutes. Generally, people don’t get the weather
directly from the National Weather Service—they get it from the weather app on their phone,
the TV meteorologist, or whatever’s most convenient for them. Nearly every source of weather information
in the US relies on the work of the National Weather Service, even if it’s repacked and
rebranded, so the NWS works to make these data abundantly accessible to those that get
it to the end-user. These XML data-feeds are a major source, providing
a structured set of current conditions and forecasts that can be quickly adapted and
interpreted by software, and everyone, from individuals to commercial companies, is legally
allowed to use these data since, as a production of the US-government, it is not copyrighted
and does not require a license. Of course, the times when weather information
is most important are often also the times when communications are most difficult—the
internet and TV might not be accessible when it really matters. Therefore, some 95% of the US population is
within range of a NOAA Weather Radio station which automatically broadcast a 24/7 feed
of conditions and forecasts. As a last-resort, the National Weather service
also runs the Emergency Managers Weather Information Network, which uses their GOES satellites
to broadcast a data-feed down to earth that, uniquely, is accessible to anyone with a compatible
satellite receiver. This data-feed, available at 1694.1 megahertz,
includes all the highlights of conditions and forecasts for sites across the US, and
even includes these visual forecasts, satellite imagery, and other images for onward use—allowing
TV stations, emergency managers, and others to access this crucial information regardless
of the condition of the world around them. In sum, this is how the National Weather Service
tells the east coast a snowstorm is coming: all it requires is a couple of satellites
and supercomputers; hundreds of radars, observation stations, buoys, weather balloons, aircraft,
and weather forecast offices; and thousands upon thousands of dedicated staff and volunteers. Rather than do the normal style of ad—since,
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