Typhoons in the Northern Hemisphere

This is my hometown,
Tuguegarao

Tuguegarao City, situated in the northeastern part of the Philippines, lies in the heart of the Cagayan Valley. Surrounding it are the towering Sierra Madre and Cordillera mountain ranges. These natural barriers trap heat in the low-lying valley, making Tuguegarao the hottest place in the country. It holds the record for the highest temperature ever recorded in the Philippines: a scorching 42.2°C (108°F). For a tropical country, that’s extreme. I know this all too well because I grew up there. Tuguegarao, my hometown, a place of intense heat and like many cities across the archipelago, a land of tropical weather extremities.

It’s not just extreme heat, but also relentless rain. Located near the Pacific Ocean, the province of Tuguegarao, Cagayan faces frequent arrival of typhoons. For me, this was nothing out of the ordinary; I had grown up knowing the drill: classes suspended, workplaces and establishments closed, and windows and doors of our home boarded up by Papa. Everyone else in the family was busy herding the animals indoors, bringing out candles and flashlights for the inevitable power outage, and restocking on essential food and water. Then came a day or two of completely grey views from the window and the eerie howling of the wind. The time of year when typhoons would come has been predictable and they’ve become a part of the annual rhythm of life for my family and the people of Tuguegarao.


taken in 2010, my sister and I in our home province, Cagayan [personal photo] 
Ybanags, Tuguegarao natives, possess a deep connection to nature, able to predict abrupt weather changes by simply observing the direction of the wind. Growing up, I thought this was my grandfather’s superpower. But as I got older, I realized it was just another kind of Filipino common sense.

The Philippines' climate is heavily shaped by the monsoons, Amihan and Habagat, as well as typhoons, all of which create the country’s weather patterns. Amihan, the cool northeast wind, typically graces us from October to March, while Habagat, the warm, wet wind from the south, takes over the rest of the year. May was always the hottest month, followed by an intense rainy season. 

Back when I was young, it seemed like my grandfather was on friendly terms with both Amihan and Habagat—figures not only in our daily lives but also in Filipino folklore. Guided by his innate wisdom, he always knew when to prepare for Habagat. Farm crops were harvested well before rains arrived, and life followed a predictable rhythm: dry season, wet season, repeat.

But that was then. Predictability has since slipped away.
This 2024, the Philippines was hit by 4 consecutive typhoons in a span of 10 days. This sequence of storms is a striking example of a phenomenon called multiple tropical cyclone (MTC) formation, where several typhoons either occur at the same time or follow one another in quick succession. This is the first time this occurance happened since Japan Meteorological Agency (JMA) records began in 1951.

Alarmed by the relentless pace and dramatic increase in intensity of typhoons, I mapped all records of typhoons [seen at the top] using a comprehensive dataset from Japan Meteorological Agency (JMA). 

I wanted to see if I could find a pattern, or if there was a system similar to Amihan/Habagat we pull from with typhoons. 
[satellite photo] of the Philippines with typhoons Yinxing, Toraji, Usagi, Man-yi, November 2024 © CNN
Typhoon frequency in the northern hemisphere peaks during the latter part of the year

Typhoon counts, per month since 1951

Other than noticing that typhoons tend to peak at the latter part of each year, it has been challenging to see a consistent trend from the typhoon data. 

My neighbors back home in Tuguegarao have also noticed that things aren’t the same as they used to be. The patterns of Amihan and Habagat seem to change every year, making the weather increasingly unpredictable—not just in the Philippines but around the world. It’s a stark contrast to how my grandfather could once read the winds with such certainty.
In 2021 and in the midst of a pandemic, I had to excuse myself from remote work to attend to  mobilizing a team of youth leaders in aiding rescue efforts during a surprise flood in November. The nearby Cagayan river overflowed. Everyone was baffled– we did not experience any major rainfall in our area, citizens were uninformed and unprepared for the flood. 

Typhoon fatigue is taking its toll on my circle of family and friends from back home. Health officials have reportedly warned of burnout, depression and exhaustion among relief workers faced with continuous devastation and people forced to evacuate multiple times.


[aerial photo] severe flooding in Tuguegarao City and neighboring towns around Cagayan River, the longest and largest river in the Philippines