FEBRUARY 7, 2021 – It happened once when I was in college—so much snow fell, my skiing buddies and I couldn’t get to the ski area where we’d planned to play hooky. This was doubly ironic given that our school mascot was a polar bear.
Yesterday, I faced another winter irony—air too cold for skiing. But my standards in this regard are fairly low, you might say.
In this regard, I’ve developed several strategies to ward off frostbite.
If the ambient temp falls below +10F, I drive, instead of walk, to “Little Switzerland,” my local skiing playground. I’ve learned that in temps lower than that, my hands become too cold carrying skis and poles in the 15 minutes it takes to walk there. By the time I’ve finished skiing I’ll be flirting with frostbite on the way home.
My other cut-off is 10F below zero. If the mercury drops below that minimum, I ground myself. The alternative is to don “eleventeen” layers of clothing so restrictive, they’ll produce an unsatisfactory strait-jacket effect.
As to windchill, I respect it but also discount its effect. Part of me says it’s a marketing ploy by local weather broadcasters. When they warn that it’s going down to “50 below windchill,” what you hear is “50 below.” In my book, “windchill” is a two-way street. Sure, if you’re standing atop the Eiger and facing the wind, you’ll feel it. But turn around and you’ll have the wind . . . at your back, even nudging you along happily. Accordingly, when there’s a serious windchill, I adjust—hugging the leeward side of natural windbreaks, avoiding a course that leads headlong into the wind, and taking full advantage of a tailwind.
I’ve also learned the finer points of frost-bite avoidance. For example, I spray WD-40 on my bindings, making them easier to release with cold hands. Another: pressure-lock laces for my walking shoes. Plain laces require bare hands, whereas a pressure-lock can be squeezed without removing gloves/mittens.
Finally, to cover a “worst-case” scenario—a disabling fall—I carry I.D. and my fully-charged phone. I’ve done so ever since the very cold night several years ago when I encountered a fallen, older skier. She’d struck her head and injured her shoulder. She was disoriented and, unable to stand up, in danger of serious frostbite. I didn’t always carry my phone, but on that occasion, I had and called 9-1-1. Soon the local fire department (ironically appropriate) appeared. Ever since, my phone has been “essential gear.”
At yesterday’s high of +1F, I didn’t “own” Little Switzerland. St. Moritz (the downhill slope) was fully operational, and though the usual weekend hordes were absent, plenty of hardy souls were out. At this writing, the temp is 10 below. By the fluttering birch bark on our trees out front, I see there’s a bit of “windchill.” However, the sun’s out. By the time Apollo’s chariot rides high, so will Mercury rise to . . . zero. Then I’ll be skiing—high above my lowest standard.
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
