Heat, Sun Brutalizes Southwest

July 10, 2003
By Patrick O'Driscoll, USA TODAY

ALBUQUERQUE — As thunderstorms continue to flood the Midwest and Tropical Storm Claudette churns in the Caribbean, the desert Southwest looks to cloudless skies and wonders: Where is the summer monsoon?

The Southwest's monsoon, a shift in the usual wind pattern, generally brings cooling afternoon thundershowers in July and August in New Mexico, Arizona and parts of neighboring states. But this year's monsoon is a week overdue — and at least another week away, if not longer.

"They keep saying it's coming, but it hasn't happened yet," says Steve Hernandez, a crew leader for an Albuquerque landscaping company.

He and his team started laying grass at a home subdivision at 6 a.m. Wednesday to beat the worst of the heat. They scrambled to shade and shelter when it peaked at midafternoon. High temperatures here this week prompted his bosses to give field supervisors an extra safety briefing Wednesday so they'll know what to do if a worker is overcome.

Across the Southwest, dozens of communities from Douglas, Ariz., to Pueblo, Colo. are baking in triple-digit heat. By the weekend, 90-degree readings are expected to spread border to border, from Texas to Montana. High-temperature records across Arizona are expected to melt.

Albuquerque hit 100 degrees Wednesday and could do so again today. It's so hot in Phoenix, no stranger to blast-furnace temperatures, that authorities issued a heat advisory Wednesday. The temperature there reached 113 by late afternoon, and 114 is expected today. Farther north, Salt Lake City may reach 101 Friday and Saturday. Elko, Nev.; Boise; and Grand Junction, Colo., could see the same today.

Denver, which didn't have a single 90-degree day in June, has had only one day under 90 since then. Pueblo has set daily records above 100 at least four times in the past week.

A ridge of atmospheric high pressure is blocking the tropical storms that in a normal year would bring moisture north from Mexico's Baja coast and the Gulf of Mexico. Those storms deliver as much as 45% of New Mexico's annual precipitation, and they make hot afternoons bearable.

"The high is holding there," says Keith Hayes, an Albuquerque meteorologist for the National Weather Service. "It looks like another eight to 10 days before it begins to weaken significantly. It's also extending our high-fire-danger season."

And the lack of showers has exacerbated a withering drought that already is drying stretches of the Rio Grande south of Albuquerque.

Natives here pride themselves on withstanding desert extremes. Albuquerque is one of the USA's 10 sunniest cities — its airfield is called "Albuquerque International Sunport," not airport — and one of its driest. This week, flirting with 100-degree readings, it is now one of the hottest.

"I'm born and raised here, and it's so hot, it's even irritating me," says Phil Rivera, 46, of Albuquerque. "It's like walking in front of a furnace."

Convenience store operator Nina Brackeen stocks extra bottled water and watches for telltale signs of heat stress in her customers.

"They can't count their change right. They're dizzy in the head," Brackeen says. "I'm from India, so I'm used to the heat. I feel sorry for the outdoor workers."

It's just another occupational hazard to roofer Raul Borroel, 54. "Muy caliente— very hot. But somebody's got to do it," he says with a shrug as he finishes tarring seams on the roof of an adobe-style building near Albuquerque's Old Town.

Besides making the drought worse and increasing the threat of wildfire, this heat wave kills. In the Arizona desert, the death toll among illegal immigrants trying to cross the border on foot from Mexico is three ahead of 2002's record-setting pace — 79 dead since the start of the federal fiscal year last October. Three succumbed last weekend to temperatures over 100.

At North Valley Equestrian Center here, horseback lessons for summer campers include frequent water breaks under a canopy in the riding arena.

"Once it got to 100 degrees, I saw the kids wilting," says Melanie Omer, who bought a portable swimming pool to help them cool off. She puts wet scarves in the freezer, then wears them as her personal cooling device.

But Omer's campers happily continued to walk, trot and canter Wednesday beneath the blazing sun. And, lacking the effect of those tardy showers, the only clouds in their sky were plumes of dust, kicked up with every hoofbeat.

http://www.usatoday.com/weather/climate/2003-07-09-hothot-usat_x.htm