Persistent,
low-level uneasiness has crept into my psyche over
the last couple of seasons. I can’t put my finger on the exact reasons for it,
but many people I work with are feeling the same thing. The obvious and most
popular explanation for our aggregate angst, is that the climate has changed
and the consistently inconsistent, sliding surface called snow that we have
trusted for years is now drastically changing, literally under our feet. We are
truly standing at the edge of the earth. At least it feels that way. As if
something we’ve always taken for granted, winter, might disappear like, should
I say, melting snow.
The way people talk
and the things they say tell a much deeper story about our collective view of
the impending future. People are speaking a dialect of uncertainty, as observed
by the use of the one-word question at the end of every sentence: Right?
Why punctuate the end of a sentence with the word right unless you were
subconsciously insecure about what was about to happen next. Its nice to have a
little reassurance in unpredictable times, so just add right to everything,
someone will agree eventually.
Every day I hear my
fellow West Coast snow sliders say words to the effect: Snow isn't what it
used to be … Another pineapple express headed our way … Snow line
is going to be above 7500 feet … Another big layoff coming up after the
holiday … We are in a serious drought for the next several years. This was just another bad year. Right?
Are we experiencing
the symptoms of universal group mental depression, or are we all deeply
nostalgic for the old winters? Or, could we, like Plains farmers during the
’30s, be sensing and interpreting signs that presage a dramatic, Dust Bowl-like
danger ahead?
It’s ironic that many of the Dust Bowl refugees settled here in the West,
and once again mechanism of climate
are causing some folks to look elsewhere to make a living. A
male instructor in his 30s from Snoqualmie Pass in Washington State left the
area in January due to the low snowfall and found a job 3,000 miles across the
country at Sunday River in Maine. He was happy with the choice, but realized
that the bitter, Polar Vortex-induced cold temps and high winds made life as an
instructor challenging. It wasn’t the most idyllic snow country environment to
teach in. >
Change has always
been a part of our professional work environment. The seasonality of it all adds to the freshness,
and the cycle of birth-death-rebirth has always been invigorating
—but recently, Mother Nature seems to be cycleing
at an alarming rate. The average freezing level—the
elevation above sea level
at which the temperature reaches 32 degrees F— is
rising higher and higher, that's a fact. But how will we respond to the
challenges ahead for enjoying our precious lifestyle and making a living in the
snow sports industry?
An instructor who
works at a resort close to my home says, “The changes in the climate are
affecting our livelihoods, Our mountain had a particularly hard year. There
wasn't much work for part-timers, which translates to less money in our
pockets. It’s been rough. I also rely on my skiing to keep me healthy. I've
gained weight due to the lack of snow. It seems like my healthy, skinny ski
body was a flash in the pan, one of those things you look back on and say, those
were the days."
The rhythms of the West Coast winter have shifted from somewhat
predictable deep Sierra Nevada dumps to wild, aberrant swings
in temperature, wind and ever-higher snow lines. Driving into Squaw Valley this
winter, one could see a clear white-
to- brown
line ring the 7,500- foot
contour mark around the entire valley. On days when
the snow fell
above the line, hoards
of pent up pass- holders
bottlenecked the entrance to the Funitel.
They lined lined up
like lab rats to tapping
the bar for their reward for staying in the maze. Others had booked
trips out of the area or just chose to drive off the hill to
bike and play golf somewhere else in the unseasonably
warm temperatures.
But what about the instructors who have committed to a resort for the season, who were
left out at a soggy lineup like laundry left on the line during a rain storm by
an in-attentive housekeeper.
? Instructors who in frustration
would literally say to their students, “ I
am not sure what you expect to learn today, the skiing is terrible, and it’s due to global warming!”
I was told this story by
a friend who manages a school in theWest.
I asked him how he handled the situation,
and he gave me a one- word
answer, : REFUND!
That’s a cuss word in the modern resort
business paradigm.
There is a real
sense among our ski instructor ground troops, that we are losing our battle
against climate change as it relates to the delicate strip of atmosphere called
snow country. A mother who raised her children skiing on the slopes of a
low-elevation municipal nonprofit resort
feels that she has been trying to out-ski climate change. But, climate change
is gaining on her. The situation grates on her psyche, even during the
off-season. She says, “I think I could get into another sport, at least I’d
physically feel better, but I keep thinking that when the snow goes, the water
goes, too, so how long will it be possible to have a life here in the Truckee
Meadows that resembles what it was like in the ’70s, ’80s or even ’90s?”
The ski industry is
trying its best to put on a happy face with promises of bigger better
expansions of facilities and never
before offered services, but until we see a drastic shift in the weather
patterns we will be funneled
into smaller patches of a thinner layer of snow, higher and higher toward the
mountain summit until we eventually find ourselves skiing at the edge of the
earth., . Right?
