“If it doesn’t snow by Washington’s Birthday, they may have to shut the mountain down.” I was trying to explain to Cody just how odd the weather and snow conditions are.
Cheryl, Leigh, and I had been skiing “easy blues and greens” at Snowmass, just like the neurologist who discharged me from the Neuro ICU on Jan 29th had instructed. I’d spent the next three days in the warm cocoon of life-long friends Dave and Carol, while trying to branch out a bit meeting new folks in Denver and Vail. My recovery from traumatic Brain Injury (aka brain contusion, aka left frontal lobe intra cerebral bleed) seemed to be progressing apace. Cheryl and I walked to Wildcat Divide on Sunday and Monday (2 miles/one hour), and I’d tried some brisk cycling on the trainer Tuesday. With no symptoms from the CDC chart noticeable, I decided to try some snow sliding on Wednesday, 8 days after my concussion. The only real risk of doing this was “second-impact syndrome”, which though vary rare, is nonetheless pretty lethal. Apparently if the brain is not fully healed (which may take anywhere from six days to six months), another blow to the brain may sufficiently disrupt the internal chemistry and electrolyte balance so that sudden, massive swelling occurs. When this happens, the base of the brain is forced down into the tiny hole through which the spinal cord exits. Needless to say, this is not good. “Brain stem herniation” is what they call it, and it’s pretty much lights out when it happens.
So I had to be sure not to do anything which might set that process in motion. Going fast then falling, hitting a bump wrong, running into another skier, crashing into a tree – al of these seemed prudent to avoid. So I tried to position myself between Leigh – who is an elegant, fast mistress of the groomed slope – and Cheryl – who goes much slower, but is willing to tackle just about anything – seemed the best place to be.
The days were unfailingly blue, warm, and cloudless. While it made for gentle skiing from my perspective, the 45-55F temps on the slopes were deadly to the snow pack. Aspen has basically had two episodes of snow this year. First, just before season opening on Thanksgiving, providing a solid base thru Dec 15th; then, 2-3 weeks of persistent snowfall, about 3-4’ in all. Then … nothing. A couple of spritzers towards the end of January, but by the start of February, a persistent high pressure was deflecting Pacific storms to the north, or, worse, dissipating them entirely. Brown patches of snow, dirt at the margins, pebbles kicked up from the base by the relentless grooming machines – it’s starting to look like end of season here, and we’re only half way through.
It’s too warm at night for artificial snow. Even with the warm days, the surface soft snow gets thinner and thinner, exposing the slick icy base earlier and earlier. It might be better in the woods, or on the bumps, but I’ll never know. I’m forbidden to find out, so I tell myself there are rocks exposed everywhere on the Cirque, I should count myself lucky I have to go easy.
This makes three out of the last five years with apocalyptic conditions. When it has snowed, it has been wonderful. I remember January storms with Annie and Cody in 2011, and the epic 36’ in 30 hours in February 2014. But in between there were two years which reminded me of 1976-77, “the year it didn’t snow”. And now this – the new normal?