This winter has delivered the lowest snow cover on record across the Western United States, a stark indicator of changing climate patterns with far-reaching implications. While the immediate impact is felt keenly by ski resorts and enthusiasts, the ramifications extend significantly to vital water resources, agricultural productivity, and the delicate ecosystems supporting native fish populations. The current scarcity of natural snowfall presents a complex challenge for a region historically reliant on its winter snowpack for spring and summer water availability.

Across Colorado, the iconic Arapahoe Basin ski area reports less than a third of its runs are operational, a testament to the insufficient snow depth. In Washington, Mt. Baker Ski Area was forced to cancel its annual snowboard race due to an unworkable snowpack, highlighting the direct impact on winter sports events. Similarly, Oregon’s Hoodoo Ski Area and Mt. Ashland Ski Area experienced temporary closures lasting weeks, directly attributable to a lack of snowfall, while the NCAA ski championships were relocated from Bozeman, Montana, to Utah, underscoring the widespread nature of these adverse conditions.

Faced with these challenges, ski resorts are increasingly turning to artificial snowmaking. However, detailed information regarding the extent of these operations remains elusive, as major conglomerates like Alterra and POWDR did not respond to inquiries. Vail Resorts, a global operator of 42 ski areas, acknowledged that "weather conditions, particularly temperature, influence how much and how long we make snow," but declined to share specific snowmaking data.

Steven Fassnacht, a professor of snow hydrology at Colorado State University, notes that a significant ramp-up in snowmaking for Western resorts would be logistically and legally complex. Acquiring additional water rights, a prerequisite for substantial expansion, is an expensive and intricate legal undertaking. Historically, Western ski resorts have depended far less on artificial snow than their counterparts in other regions of the United States. Data indicates that fewer than 10% of skiable acres in the West are covered by man-made snow, a stark contrast to the more than 50% in the Northeast and around 80% in the Southeast and Midwest.

As climate change intensifies, leading to increasingly warm and unpredictable winters, snowmaking is poised to become a more critical, albeit complex, element of the ski industry in the West. This shift, however, brings with it a host of potential environmental consequences and other challenges.

The practice of snowmaking traces its origins back to 1949 when a Connecticut ski resort owner attempted to create a skiable surface by spreading 700 pounds of ice on a single run, a temporary measure that lasted only about two weeks. This experiment, however, sparked an idea among a group of engineers and former ski entrepreneurs. According to ski historian John Fry, they ingeniously connected a 10-horsepower compressor via a garden hose to a spray-gun nozzle, a tool previously used for painting skis, to create artificial snow outside their defunct ski factory.

The fundamental technology of snowmaking remains largely unchanged: the atomization of highly pressurized water into the atmosphere, where it freezes into ice crystals. The primary environmental concerns revolve around energy and water consumption. However, the potential impacts can extend to soil degradation and chemical exposure. Furthermore, Indigenous communities often voice opposition, primarily centered on the desecration of sacred lands by wastewater used in the process.

The energy demands of snowmaking are substantial, requiring significant power to pump water uphill and pressurize air. One study examining ten ski areas across the nation estimated that snowmaking accounts for an average of 18% of a resort’s total energy consumption. The volume of water used is also considerable. For instance, Palisades Tahoe reportedly utilizes between 50 and 70 million gallons of water annually for snowmaking, sufficient to cover approximately 60 acres of terrain with 1.5 feet of snow. While 70 million gallons is a substantial quantity, equivalent to the annual water usage of roughly 50 American families, Professor Fassnacht points out that an estimated 80% of this water eventually returns to streams and rivers, with the remainder lost to evaporation.

Although this water is drawn from the same sources utilized by municipalities and agricultural operations, the demand occurs at different times of the year. Ski resorts typically engage in snowmaking during the late fall and early winter, while agricultural and municipal needs escalate in the late spring and summer. In situations of water scarcity, ski resorts, as junior water rights holders, would be required to defer to those with senior water rights. In Colorado, for example, snowmaking constitutes a mere estimated 0.05% of the state’s annual water consumption, a figure dwarfed by agriculture’s approximately 85% share.

Crucially, machine-made snow differs significantly from natural snow in one vital aspect: it does not contribute to the region’s water supply at the same scale. Researchers at the University of California, Berkeley, highlight that 75% of the water relied upon by Western communities originates from mountain snowpack. Therefore, even if snowmaking sustains winter sports, it cannot compensate for the diminished natural snowpack that is essential for broader water needs. Professor Fassnacht views snowmaking as a form of "temporary storage on the mountain, instead of in a reservoir," emphasizing that the water is not truly removed from the system but merely relocated and that it does not substitute for natural snowfall.

Fassnacht’s most significant concern pertains to the timing of water withdrawal from streams. If water is extracted during periods of low flow, it can have detrimental effects on aquatic life. To mitigate freshwater consumption, some resorts, including Big Sky in Montana, have begun producing snow from treated wastewater. While lauded by some conservation groups as a "win-win for the health of our rivers and the resort economy," this practice remains controversial.

In 2013, Flagstaff’s ski area initiated the use of treated wastewater for snowmaking, a decision that ignited protests from local Indigenous people and members of 13 Native American tribes who consider the mountain sacred. These demonstrations and the underlying conflict continue to this day.

On a broader scale, snowmaking is often viewed as an adaptation strategy to climate change. However, some researchers question whether it represents a "maladaptation"—a measure that inadvertently exacerbates climate change. A 2022 study published in the Journal of Sustainable Tourism concluded that the environmental impact of snowmaking is highly dependent on a resort’s geographic location. In regions with relatively clean electricity grids and secure water supplies, such as Washington, the impact is considerably lower compared to states like New Mexico, Colorado, Nevada, and Wyoming, where electricity generation is more carbon-intensive and water scarcity is more acute. While many of these states have plans for grid decarbonization in the coming decades, projections indicate an increasing trend of water stress during the same period.

The study’s authors also underscored the significance of snowmaking’s impact on travel patterns. On average, they found that skiers travel approximately 36 miles before their transit emissions surpass those generated at a ski area. Consequently, if snowmaking encourages skiers to patronize nearby mountains rather than undertaking long-haul flights, it could represent a net positive for the environment.

The prognosis for skiing, particularly in coastal regions and at lower elevations, appears increasingly grim. Jesse Ritner, an assistant professor of history at Georgia College & State University and an author on snowmaking, frankly states, "There’s a level to which, to put it bluntly, the ski industry is screwed." Nevertheless, he acknowledges that "snowmaking is only going to become more and more important."

The ski industry itself recognizes these trends. In 2019, Vail Ski Resort invested in 421 new snow guns for its Colorado mountain, a move hailed as the "largest snowmaking expansion in North American history." Other resorts, such as Bogus Basin in Idaho, are exploring "snowfarming," a technique involving the collection and storage of snow to be used in the subsequent winter.

Despite these innovative efforts, companies remain vulnerable to adverse winter conditions. Earlier this year, Vail Resorts informed investors that diminished snowfall in Western states had resulted in a 20% decline in visitation across its North American properties. Michael Pidwirny, an associate professor at the University of British Columbia specializing in climate change and skiing, observes that "bad years were a real rarity, now they’re becoming more common." He further predicts that these events will escalate, questioning the efficacy of snowmaking when temperatures become too high, as it requires a "wet bulb temperature" below 28 degrees Fahrenheit, a calculation that factors in both humidity and air temperature. Pidwirny forecasts that Whistler Blackcomb, a prominent Vail-owned resort, may face situations where one out of every two years is too poor to support good skiing by approximately 2050 or 2060. He suggests that resorts will need to adapt by acknowledging that "it’s not guaranteed that they’re going to have a ski season every year," a reality that even extensive snowmaking may not be able to alter.