This winter has seen the lowest snow cover on record across the Western United States, a stark indicator of shifting climate patterns with far-reaching implications beyond recreational skiing. While the immediate concern for many Westerners is the diminished ski season, the lack of snow carries a significant threat of increased wildfires, reduced water availability for agriculture and aquatic ecosystems come spring. Ski resorts, historically reliant on natural snowfall, are increasingly turning to artificial snowmaking as a crucial adaptation strategy, but this solution introduces its own set of environmental and economic challenges.

In Colorado, the popular Arapahoe Basin ski resort currently has less than a third of its skiable terrain open, a stark illustration of the widespread impact. Further north, Washington’s Mt. Baker Ski Area was forced to cancel its annual snowboard race due to an "unworkable snowpack." Oregon’s Hoodoo Ski Area and Mt. Ashland Ski Area experienced temporary closures lasting weeks due to insufficient snowfall, and the NCAA Ski Championships were relocated from Bozeman, Montana, to Utah, highlighting the regional nature of the snow deficit.

Faced with these challenging conditions, ski resorts are increasingly dependent on snowmaking technology, though specific operational details from major industry players remain scarce. Both Alterra and POWDR, significant conglomerates in the ski resort industry, did not respond to inquiries regarding their snowmaking practices. 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, noted the significant hurdles Western resorts face in substantially increasing their snowmaking capacity. The primary obstacle lies in acquiring additional water rights, a process that is both legally complex and prohibitively expensive. This contrasts sharply with historical practices, where Western ski resorts have traditionally relied far less on artificial snow compared to their counterparts in other regions of the country. Data indicates that, on average, fewer than 10% of skiable acres in the West are covered by man-made snow, a figure significantly lower than the over 50% in the Northeast and approximately 80% in the Southeast and Midwest.

However, as climate change continues to drive warmer and more unpredictable winters, snowmaking is poised to become an increasingly vital component of the ski industry in the West. This escalating reliance, though, is not without its consequences, raising concerns about environmental impacts and presenting other complex challenges.

The origins of snowmaking technology can be traced back to 1949, when a Connecticut ski resort owner experimented by spreading 700 pounds of ice onto a single run. While the artificial snow only lasted about two weeks, it sparked an idea among a group of engineers and failed ski entrepreneurs. As ski historian John Fry recounted, they ingeniously connected a 10-horsepower compressor via a garden hose to a spray-gun nozzle, originally used for painting skis, to create their first artificial snow system outside their defunct ski factory.

The fundamental technology of snowmaking remains largely unchanged today: spraying highly pressurized water into the air, where it freezes upon contact with cold temperatures. The primary environmental concerns associated with this process revolve around energy and water consumption. However, the potential impacts extend further, encompassing issues such as soil degradation and the risk of chemical exposure. Furthermore, Indigenous communities have voiced opposition, primarily centering on the desecration of sacred sites through the discharge of wastewater.

The production of artificial snow is an energy-intensive endeavor, requiring substantial power to pressurize water and air and pump them to the necessary elevations. A study examining ten ski areas across the United States estimated that snowmaking accounts for an average of 18% of a resort’s total energy consumption.

The water used for snowmaking also represents a significant resource. Palisades Tahoe, for instance, utilizes between 50 and 70 million gallons of water annually for snowmaking, a volume sufficient to cover approximately 60 acres of terrain with 1.5 feet of snow, according to reports in the San Francisco Chronicle. While 70 million gallons is a substantial amount, equivalent to the annual water usage of roughly 50 American families, Professor Fassnacht emphasized that an estimated 80% of the water used for snowmaking ultimately returns to streams and rivers through melting and runoff, with the remainder lost to evaporation.

Although this water originates from the same sources that supply cities and farms, the demand from ski resorts occurs at a different time of year. Ski areas typically engage in snowmaking during the late fall and early winter, a period when agricultural and municipal water needs are significantly lower, only escalating in the late spring and summer. Moreover, in situations of water scarcity, ski resorts, as junior water rights holders, would be obligated to defer to those with senior water rights. In Colorado, for example, snowmaking constitutes an estimated 0.05% of the state’s annual water consumption, a fraction compared to agriculture’s approximately 85% share.

Despite these figures, machine-made snow differs fundamentally from natural snow in one critical aspect: it does not contribute to the region’s water supply on a large 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 when snowmaking supports the skiing industry, it does not compensate for the deficit created by dry winters where water is critically needed for other purposes. 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 importantly, it does not substitute for naturally falling snow.

Fassnacht’s primary concern regarding snowmaking centers on its timing—specifically, when resorts draw water from streams. If water is extracted during periods of low flow, he cautions, it could have detrimental effects on aquatic life.

In an effort to mitigate fresh water consumption, some resorts, including Big Sky in Montana, have begun producing snow from treated wastewater. While this practice has been lauded by a conservation group as "a win-win for the health of our rivers and the resort economy," it remains a contentious issue. In 2013, Flagstaff’s ski area began using treated wastewater for snowmaking, applying it to a mountain considered sacred by local Indigenous peoples and members of 13 Native American tribes. This practice, and the accompanying protests, continue to this day, underscoring the deep cultural and spiritual significance of these lands.

Ultimately, snowmaking can be viewed as an adaptive response to climate change, yet researchers are exploring whether it represents a "maladaptation"—a strategy that inadvertently exacerbates the very problem it seeks to address. A 2022 study published in the Journal of Sustainable Tourism concluded that the environmental impact of snowmaking is highly dependent on a resort’s geographical location. In regions with relatively clean electricity grids and secure water resources, such as Washington, snowmaking has a less pronounced environmental footprint compared to states like New Mexico, Colorado, Nevada, and Wyoming, where electricity generation is more carbon-intensive and water stress is more acute. While many of these states have outlined plans for grid decarbonization in the coming decades, projections indicate a simultaneous increase in water scarcity over the same period.

The researchers also pointed out that the impact of snowmaking on travel patterns cannot be overlooked. Their findings suggest that, on average, skiers travel only 36 miles before their transit emissions surpass those generated at a ski area. Consequently, if snowmaking encourages skiers to patronize local mountains rather than undertaking long-distance travel, it could potentially result in a net positive environmental outcome.

The prognosis for skiing, particularly at coastal resorts and lower elevations, appears increasingly grim. Jesse Ritner, an assistant professor of history at Georgia College & State University and author of a forthcoming book on snowmaking, stated bluntly that "there’s a level to which… the ski industry is screwed." He added, however, that "snowmaking is only going to become more and more important."

The ski industry is clearly recognizing these trends. In 2019, Vail Ski Resort made what it described as the "largest snowmaking expansion in North American history," acquiring 421 new snow guns for its Colorado mountain. Other resorts, such as Bogus Basin in Idaho, are exploring innovative approaches like "snowfarming," which involves collecting and storing snow from one season to be used in the subsequent winter.

However, even these advanced measures cannot fully insulate companies from the vagaries of unfavorable winters. Earlier this year, Vail Resorts informed investors that a significant decline in snowfall across Western states had resulted in a 20% decrease in visitation across its North American properties. Michael Pidwirny, an associate professor at the University of British Columbia specializing in climate change and skiing, observed that "bad years were a real rarity, now they’re becoming more common." He further predicts that these occurrences will intensify, posing the question, "if it’s too warm, how do you make snow?"

Snowmaking is only effective within a specific temperature range; the "wet bulb temperature"—a metric that combines humidity and air temperature—must be below 28 degrees Fahrenheit for artificial snow to be produced. Pidwirny forecasts that Whistler Blackcomb, a prominent Vail-owned resort in his home province, could face a situation where "one out of two years are really too poor to support good skiing in about 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." The efficacy of even advanced snowmaking technologies may ultimately be insufficient to overcome these profound climatic shifts.