Of snow and SOLs

Living with a school teacher can sure make you do some strange things. Aside from being a buffer for the seemingly continuous “We need to pass our SOLs” laments, there’s the difference in how we look at weather.

Take for instance this recent spate of snow days.  Last Thursday, as I was walking the dogs and getting ready for my quick drive to Fort Lee and my real-time job, I was wondering what it was that drove the localities to call it quits hours before the slightest hint of the fluffy white stuff was anywhere to be found?

Growing up in the midst of snow country, it has always seemed strange to me how quickly things shut down in Virginia whenever the National Weather Service issues a winter storm warning.  That’s not to say they shouldn’t be issuing such warnings. Not at all. Knowing the bad weather is coming is a good thing; knowing what to do about it is something completely different.

My view of snowy weather is much different from most people. Even those people who live in high accumulation areas, like Buffalo, NY, home of the notorious “Lake Effect” snow storms that dump huge quantities of snow all over the place, jamming the highways, shutting down everything, and leaving people to survive alone in their cars for days on the Interstates.  My experience with snow is on a much more personal and deeper (pardon the pun) level.

Coming out of an area that is more well-known for people sleeping for 20-years, see Rip Van Winkle, few people are aware of a place called Hunter Mountain Ski Bowl.  Growing up in the middle of the Catskill Mountains, Hunter Mountain is the biggest employer of local high schoolers in the area.  In my time, I was a ski fitter, a car parker, a Red Cross-certified life guard (don’t ask, don’t tell), and eventually a snow maker.

What is a snow maker, you ask? Hunter Mountain is located conveniently two hours north of New York City, which makes it a great escape for those confined to the city limits during the week.  On any given day, really, skiers could call in sick at work and in a couple hours be slipping and sliding down the mountain without a care for work schedules, commuter traffic, or when the last train heads out to Long Island.

Hunter Mountain earned its reputation as a ski Mecca by guaranteeing 100 days of skiing per year. To my knowledge at that time, they had never been open less than 120 days for skiers, which made their season passes a big deal. Even though they were north of New York and 1,500 feet above sea levels, they would not have been able to make that claim had it not been for their early involvement in the practice of snow making.

Long before it became common, Hunter Mountain developed the pipelines and techniques that enabled it to make the 100-plus days guarantee that made the ski slope very profitable. Relying on Mother Nature to cover the trails with the white stuff would not have been a sure thing. But putting the white stuff on the mountain on your own, and only requiring enough cold to freeze water, was the right kind of deal.  For the record, you can actually make snow at 34 degrees, it tends to be a bit slushy, but it isn’t water and you can ski on it.

How it’s done is another matter. But suffice to say that air pressure and enough water volume combine to put out a spray of water droplets that freeze on contact with the sub-freezing temperatures.  So you don’t have to wait for a snowstorm to come in. In fact, on virtually any given night in the village of Hunter, you can look at the ski slope and see what appear to be huge bands of fog or low clouds. Rest assured, it isn’t fog, it’s snow and the work of snow makers.

Now, what does snowmaking have to do with SOLs and the woes around my house?  That is after all the only real question we need to answer here. And this is how that works.  Since I already know how to make snow, not trying to usurp any of the Big Man’s authority, it would seem to me that I can make a much nicer home atmosphere for myself by merely putting into practice some of those old skills I learned back in the early ‘70s.  To wit, when my wife is longing for another day off, I could simply create a few new devices and tie into local fire hydrants. It wouldn’t take too long to get things going and voila’ it would be instant day off.

To me, it seems win-win. Especially since snow doesn’t usually keep me from going to work.