When temperatures rise during early summer, residents of the desert and mountain Southwest U.S. begin anticipating the arrival of their annual monsoon season. (1) Welcome to our first in a series of three stories about California’s contrasting and sometimes puzzling weather patterns in 2021. As sun angles increase and days grow longer, searing heat begins dominating the weather in the Mojave, Sonoran, and Basin and Range deserts from east of California’s highest mountain ranges, into Arizona, Nevada, Utah, New Mexico, and across the border into Mexico. These dry, warm air masses can suck water out of soils and ecosystems well up into the high country of the southwest, leaving woodlands and forests susceptible to debilitating annual droughts and wildfires. That same intensifying heat encourages air masses near the ground to expand and become less dense, forming thermal low pressure. This surface low, and the migration of upper level pressure patterns, eventually ushers in wet, subtropical air masses to deliver invigorating water to these landscapes, especially during late summer months.
(Where you see numbers blocked in parentheses, you might consult Page 2 of this story for more detailed definitions and explanations.)
Following the Monsoon The summer monsoon arrives in the Southwest with towering cumulus and cumulonimbus clouds and sudden thunderstorm downpours that can deliver more rain in an hour than what may have accumulated in the previous several months. The storms become especially common during afternoon surface heating in the high country of New Mexico and Arizona, as moisture drifts up from Mexico. Many of these locations experience peak annual precipitation from July into September. (As a related update, check out this NWS story about how monsoon thunderstorms became severe and deadly in Phoenix, AZ on July 24, 2024.) Occasionally, when upper level pressure and wind patterns are favorable, this moisture and instability will drift across the California border, into southern California deserts and mountain ranges, and even up the spine of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. This usually occurs when a strong upper level high pressure system wobbles somewhere near the Four Corners Region, pushing winds clockwise around it, creating wind flow out of the southeast over us, and advecting moist air into southern parts of our state. Though only a few California locations near the Colorado River receive their peak annual precipitation during late summer (and it’s usually not much), these brief monsoonal encroachments can bring isolated summer storms more common to Flagstaff or Taos into parts of southern California and beyond.
Exceptional Storms in the Summer of 2021 During July and August of 2021, an unusually early and then wet monsoon season soaked and then flooded parts of New Mexico and Arizona with heavy rain and deadly flash flooding that even broke some records. In a few cases, the disturbances, instability, and moisture drifted into California with some spectacular results. Deserts and mountain ranges from the Colorado River to southern California’s mountain ranges, and from the Basin and Range to the Sierra Nevada had been dehydrated by months of relentless drought and record high temperatures. Suddenly, relief appeared in the form of subtropical clouds that shielded the blazing sun and then towering thunderheads carrying torrential downpours and spectacular lightning displays. Lightning strikes within drier thunderstorms with higher cloud bases increased fire dangers, while wetter storms delivered life-giving cloudbursts that quickly soaked soils and even generated some flash flooding. Though these storms were characteristically widely scattered and of short duration, this reoccurring pattern during July and into August eventually dumped surprising amounts of measurable rainfall on nearly every weather station, including places such as Death Valley.
Monitoring and Chasing Summer Moisture I was fortunate to anticipate and then chase some of these legendary-but-misunderstood storms during one day on July 30, 2021. For several days, wind flowing from the southeast had been sporadically delivering moisture from Arizona and Mexico into the state. Record wet air masses with high dew points were flooding Arizona, even driving afternoon high temperatures down into the low 80s (~28 C)in Phoenix for three straight days, another record for July. And some of this moist air was moving across the Colorado River Valley and the Mexican Border into California.
Mountains Accentuate Air Mass Ascension My search for thunderstorms started in San Gorgonio (Banning) Pass, where a thunderhead had already built over the San Bernardino Mountains by noon, delivering narrow rain columns to quench local slopes. Another impressive cumulonimbus towered higher on the south side of the pass, wavering over and near San Jacinto Peak. (2) Air flow from the southeast sheared its top over the pass. Heavy shafts of rain poured on to the northern slopes of the San Jacintos and into desert canyons, above where Hwy 111 toward Palm Springs forks off of Interstate 10. (3) I suspected that this already impressive build up could produce some surprising rainfall totals around the San Jacinto Mountains, but I wanted to monitor the development of a desert storm. (Sure enough, these mountain storms would eventually build further into the afternoon until more than 1.6 inches (~4 cm) of rain fell in Idyllwild in a violent cloudburst that lasted less than two hours.) My desert storm drama would come later in the day.
Science-savvy Gambling with Cumulus Monitoring updated radar and satellite imagery and some specifics in the forecast, I noticed the monsoon moisture still streaming in from Mexico and Arizona and so I headed east along Interstate 10 past Indio. As thunderheads continued to build over the now-distant San Jacinto and Santa Rosa Mountains, I continued east up the I 10 hill toward Chiriaco Summit. A few NWS flash flood warnings for nearby regions interrupted radio and phone reception. But as I turned off toward Joshua Tree National Park, the desert remained relatively hot and quiet with only a few small puffy cumulus clouds below a thin veil of higher clouds, all combining to decorate the sky. Following this road north, I noticed a line of small, but well-defined cumulus popping up in the afternoon thermals over the park’s peaks. And so, I decided to make my stand around here. Most casual observers might have considered these little clouds to be innocuous scene enhancers. But they were forming along a line as moist air now heated by direct afternoon sunlight was buoyed up along Joshua Tree Park’s western slopes, which rise above the Coachella Valley. After about an hour that included a short self-guided nature trail through this sizzling desert of dead and dying plants, a landscape clearly suffering from exceptional drought, my gamble paid off.
Tranquil Desert Turns to Violent Waterworld As suspected, the cumulus I targeted suddenly began to blossom into towering icy cauliflowers. Within another half hour, a dense rain shaft had formed and the impressive storm was producing constant rumbling thunder. Its downdrafts soon obscured desert peaks and slopes that included Monument Mountain to the northwest of the Cottonwood Springs Visitor Center, which was closed for the summer. I meandered up Pinkham Canyon dirt road toward the storm, but finally turned around, knowing what could happen should a downpour suddenly spread over me. Returning back on the main road through the park, I pushed north along Pinto Basin Road for a few miles to where it intersects Smoke Tree Wash. By then, the storm had dramatically strengthened and expanded, producing frequent lightning and violent downbursts of rain and hail from west to east across the sky and the road. A process called back-building seemed to keep the storms spreading across the park, into the prevailing winds. Roaring waterfalls from the sky were pouring over me and the surrounding exposed terrain. I stayed long enough to experience the excitement until it was raining so hard and so long that I knew it meant danger. So, I turned back around to higher ground, away from this wash with smoke trees, just before the flooding could make the road impassible. (Smoke Trees (Psorothamnus spinosus) grow in linear patterns along usually dry desert washes for a reason. Their seeds are abraded by flash floods and debris flows that encourage germination; later, the wash provides access to a little more ground water than surrounding desert terrain.)
Turn Around, Don’t Drown By then, violent downdrafts were delivering ominous sheets of rain in buckets from storms to the west and east that then merged overhead. As winds gusted up to 40 miles per hour, funnel cloud formations could be seen rising up into the cumulonimbus after nearly touching the desert floor. It turned almost as dark as night on this July 30 afternoon. It would have been nice to try to document the few hours of potentially deadly flooding that damaged and closed roads within the park. But, I was wise to follow the “turn around, don’t drown” rule that echoes across the Southwest during this time of year. So, I headed back uphill toward the Cottonwood Visitor Center, out from under the frequent lightning strikes and curtains of roaring torrential rain that had created this temporary chaotic waterworld in the California desert. Violent storms continued migrating across the park, sending destabilizing outflows ahead and feeding off the remaining heat rising from surfaces not yet cooled by cloudbursts. Within a couple of hours, the sun was setting, while other destabilizing heat sources were pinched out by the cooling rains. (4) A few nature photographers, attracted by the electrical displays, attempted to capture some lightning photos just before dark as the storm quickly dispersed and more quickly dissipated, mostly retreating toward the east.
Appreciating Summer Cycles Those who traveled across the desert that afternoon and evening were treated to what many Californians might consider an oddity. But, for most folks familiar with the desert southwest, such as vehicle passengers displaying Arizona and New Mexico and Utah license plates, it was just another example of how the summer monsoon can put on a dazzling sky show. And it is likely that the plants and animals caught under those cloudbursts, previously dehydrated and desiccated by unprecedented drought, were lucky to survive until this brief soaking that would get them through one more summer.
Unreliable but Spectacular Most Californians are accustomed to the hours and days of more widespread, steady rains brought by winter’s migrating middle latitude wave cyclones off the North Pacific. And it is true that nearly all of the state’s precipitation is delivered from such systems that migrate farther north during the warm season, leaving us with months of summer drought. These patterns help define our Mediterranean climate. It is also true that our surprise and sporadic summer showers can’t compare to regions with direct sources of tropical air (such as around Florida) where wet thunderstorms might march across the heated land during each summer afternoon. In the Southwest, summer weather conditions and surface and upper level wind patterns must conspire to draw in moisture from more distant sources. But such infrequency doesn’t minimize the drama and excitement and the relief from summer’s dry heat that these pop-up summer thunderstorms can bring, especially along the Colorado River Valley, across inland California, and up the ridges of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
Forecasting One-tenth to Five Inches of Partly Cloudy National Weather Service forecasters are challenged by extreme variabilities and inconsistencies in local summer monsoon storm and rainfall patterns, especially when the public doesn’t understand these events. On the coastal sides of the mountains during winter and pretty much all year in the coastal basins, a 20% chance of rain means it will probably not rain, and if it does, it will be some kind of drizzle. During the southwest monsoon in inland California, there could still be an 80% chance that it won’t rain at any one location; but local folks should know that wherever isolated monsoon storms develop, they could produce memorable gullywashers and even brief serious or deadly flooding. This uncertainty doesn’t connect with most clueless visitors from coastal cities. Usually, forecasters write the estimated, generalized precipitation totals and follow it with a phrase such as “however, greater amounts may occur during storms.” As mountain weather watcher Steve Chadwick notes, it might be clearer to write, “Isolated heavy rains and flash flooding are possible throughout the forecast area”, to warn those who are less experienced. Or, they could use Steve’s more humorous interpretation of these weather events: “one-tenth to five inches of partly cloudy.”
If you are interested in more details about weather conditions during the observed storms on July 30, 2021 in Joshua Tree NP, go to Number 5 on our scientific definitions and explanations Page 2. (5)