SKY MARSHAL

IT SEEMS FITTING, somehow, that Brian A. Klimowski, the meteorologist-in-charge of the National Weather Service forecast office near Flagstaff, boasts a pair of piercing baby blues behind his businesslike spectacles — as if the sky he's studied for more than 25 years is brilliantly reflected in his startling eyes. He's a science nerd, a nature lover and an avid landscape photographer who spends his days (and sometimes nights) in an office on a patch of prairie 10 miles west of Flagstaff, where thunderstorms are often robust, winds fierce and snows heavy. “I'm totally immersed in weather, the ever-changing nature of it,” he says, admitting that he's been internested in the Earth sciences since boyhood, when he hiked and backpacked with two outdoorsy brothers. He describes himself as the kid who always asked, “Why?” He took up astronomy at an early age and later earned an undergraduate degree in geology and geophysics. “My career went up from there,” he jokes, alluding to the Ph.D. he earned in atmospheric science at the Uni-versity of Wyoming in 1994. While working on that degree, Klimowski did a lot of what he calls “fun stuff” in a research aircraft, fearlessly flying through various kinds of crazy weather to investigate the evolution of severe thunderstorms. Was it scary? “More like awe-inspir-ing,” he says, explaining that it was Nature's power that drew him to this field in the first place. These days, he spends 20 to 30 percent of his time forecasting. He devotes the rest of it to managing general operations, supervising staff and interacting with partners such as emergency-management organi-zations, the Arizona Department of Transportation, school districts, airports, fire managers and Native American tribes. Those communities and agencies rely heavily on weather forecasts, watches and warnings to determine, for example, whether highways or schools should be closed in anticipation of a major winter storm. Klimowski and his crew help their partners make those critical decisions.

“OUR MISSION IS TO PROTECT lives and property,” Klimowski says, pointing out that during the early summer months, when devastating wildfires are a constant threat, he and his 22-person crew shift 50 to 60 percent of their focus to monitoring and forecast-ing fire weather conditions. As is true at all 122 of the National Weather Service's forecast offices across the country, this place stays open 24/7/365, maintaining at least two people on watch at all times.

When daunting weather strikes and lives are at stake — as with, say, severe storms and resulting flash floods — Klimowski staffs the office differently, bringing in more bodies and, in some cases, asking them to work long hours. On a severe-weather day, the meteorologists in the office spend their time assessing numerous storms using weather radar, figuring out which storms may become severe, and communicating updated forecasts, advisories and warnings when a weather hazard is identified. Like everyone else in our social-media-centric world, Flagstaff's Weather Service office communi-cates regularly through Facebook, Twitter and its website, sometimes conducting online chats with Arizona's other meteorologists or discussing an ongo-ing situation with the folks at the Weather Channel through an old-fashioned telephone call. Making seven-day forecasts in stable weather is the easiest part of the job. Fourteen members of Klimowski's team are profes-sional meteorologists, people he proudly calls “the best scientists and thinkers.” Apparently, they need to be, because weather, he maintains, cannot be accurately predicted by a computer program, no mat-ter how state of the art it might be. It takes a human being - someone who understands the intricacies of the atmosphere, the local terrain's interaction with the air and the impacts of dangerous weather for a wide range of communities - to make those all-important assessments.

Although the meteorologists send up weather balloons (pictured) to collect data about wind, humidity, temperature and air pressure twice a day and carefully analyze numerous forecast models at the beginning of each shift, they sometimes have to go with their gut, selecting what their instincts tell them is the best solution. Even a small error or change in a forecast can have big consequences. “If we’re forecasting snow levels,” Klimowski says, “and we’re off by 200 feet in elevation, Flagstaff’s predicted snow turns into rain.” Klimowski remembers 2010 as a challenging year. There was an almost unprecedented 54 inches of snow in midto late January. In June, there was the Schultz Fire, which, owing to soil erosion, led to severe flashflooding during the monsoon season. In October, 11 significant tornadoes raked the countryside near Flagstaff, damaging homes, leveling miles of forest, shutting down Interstate 40 and leaving heavy debris in their wake. But Klimowski seems to thrive on problems: “That’s why we’re here.” When he has a day off, the meteorologist often jumps in the car to make photographs of the Arizona landscapes he knows and loves. He might follow the snowplow down to Sedona to capture snow on the red rocks at first light or barrel up to the Grand Canyon to catch fog hovering over the chasm. Who better to know where the snow and the fog are likely to be? And who better to appreciate the weather’s gorgeous effects? “Photography,” he says, “allows me to express the beauty I love in our landscape. It’s inspiring. I’m often moved by what I see.” AH