Book Review: Powder Days: Ski Bums, Ski Towns, and the Future of Chasing Snow

I’ve always lived in Denver except for a brief stint in Missoula. You would hear about someone’s sibling, who maybe just graduated from high school, packing up their car and moving to the mountains, to be a ski bum. I felt jealous of course but also reverence.

Cameron Walker lived the mountain life for a time and has published this review of Heather Hansman’s Powder Days from that insider point of view. It seems that Ms. Hansman moves readers by writing about what she knows.

From The Last Word on Nothing (Cameron Walker):

This week, I was reading a story from a few years ago about what the last snow on earth might look like. Snow algae, which occur naturally in the snowpack, rise to the surface during the spring; when they emerge, they turn red. This “watermelon snow,” these days, could be seen as a warning. The algae’s presence means the snowpack absorbs more sunlight and melts even faster, allowing even more algae to grow, melting more snow–another of the many tributaries flooding into the rushing feedback loop of climate change.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the future of snow, too, while reading Heather Hansman’s Powder Days: Ski Bums, Ski Towns, and the Future of Chasing Snow. The organisms she’s looking at are much bigger, multicellular creatures, yet they live for snow in their own, human way. And in the ecosystems we’ve developed around ski towns, there’s a different feedback loop of low wages, unaffordable housing, class and race issues, and mental health challenges, all against the same backdrop of the rising global temperatures.

There’s also joy. That’s why I picked up this book in the first place—I spent several years in one of these mountain towns, trying to find my way both on the snow and off of it. Even back then, the tension between bliss and tragedy there could make your throat ache. The feeling of floating down an open bowl with only granite peaks and Jeffrey pines looking on. The accidents and avalanches every winter. The connectedness of being part of an unseen river of localism that runs on friendships and favor, on two-dollar Tuesdays and leftovers from your boyfriend’s restaurant job. The constant scramble for a paycheck and a place to live, the relentless waves of tourists, the aggressive hum that takes over the lift lines on a powder day, the unsettling nature of a world that depends on how much snow will fall. And the interior tensions, too. the idea that you’re here, in this most beautiful place, doing what you love–yet somehow, you’re letting it all slip through your fingers with all of this thinking about it, while everyone around you seems to know how to live like this.

And that was then. Now, these problems have grown, and grown more entangled. Hansman, a former editor at Powder and Skiing magazines and former ski bum, set off to find out—is this life even possible anymore?

To find out, she went to the mountains—both to ski with those who’ve managed to make skiing their lives and to look at how history, economics, racism, sexism, and the climate are shaping the mountains and the people who live there today.

She doesn’t come away with easy answers. In considering the vanishing snow while skiing in Santa Fe, she writes about solstalgia,”the name for the feeling of the world changing around you, when you were told it would be stable.” Hansman feels it almost constantly now, as the places where she would go to reconnect with the land grow drier each year.

In many ways, the life of a ski town is a rarefied one, and it’s clear from Hansman’s reporting that this life is becoming more and more segregated between the haves and the have-nots, while also maintaining barriers against non-whites and other, subtler barriers against women and anyone who doesn’t quite fit a certain image of the outdoors, including those whose mental health has been affected by mountain tragedies. But it’s also a miniature burden of the problems we face in the flatlands and at every elevation in this country. Throughout the book, she holds up these places to the kaleidoscope, looking at each of these problematic fragments.

Still, woven within all these challenges is the clear wonder of the mountains. While the book offers no clear solutions, this connection seems to be what gives Hansman hope: that somehow, channeling the best parts of a skiing life—the freedom, the outdoors, and the bonds skiing can create with others and with the land—can somehow shift us toward new ways of thinking. This might mean that the life of a ski bum might not look exactly like what it used to. But the snow–the pale pink of watermelons, the rusty shade of old blood–doesn’t look like it used to, either.

On Twitter Heather is pointing to this review from Tracy Ross that’s running on Outside Online.

Taxpayer group sues #water district over mill levy increase: Plaintiffs claim Lower South Platte Water Conservancy District is in violation of state’s #TABOR amendment — The #FortMorgan Times

Lower South Platte Water Conservancy District boundary map.

From The Fort Morgan Times (Jeff Rice):

A Colorado taxpayer group has filed a class action lawsuit in the 13th Judicial District Court in Logan County to try to overturn a mill levy increase by the Lower South Platte Water Conservancy District.

The Public Trust Institute, a Colorado-based public interest law firm, and the National Taxpayers Union Foundation of Washington, D.C., filed the lawsuit Wednesday on behalf of an ad hoc group of taxpayers in Logan, Morgan, Sedgwick and Washington counties. Jim Aranci of Crook, Charles Miller, Jack Darnell and William Lauck of Morgan County and Curtis Werner of Merino are listed as plaintiffs in the lawsuit. Besides the water district, the defendants include the county clerks of the four counties, who collected the taxes and handed the funds over to the district.

At issue is the interpretation of a 1996 ballot question in which the LSPWCD “de-Bruced,” or excused itself, as the result of a public vote, from provisions of the TABOR amendment. In that ballot question, the district stated it would seek a public vote in order to raise taxes.

But other wording in that ballot question, and the district’s original mill levy allowance when it was formed in 1964, are at the crux of the conflict. When it was formed, the water conservancy district was allowed by state statute to levy up to 1 mill on property within the district, which includes parts or all of the four counties. The district’s board of directors had previously only asked for 0.5 mill because that was all that was needed.

At the end of 2019, however, the district’s board decided to raise the levy to the statutorily allowed 1 mill for 2020 to, among other things, help fund preparatory work on a project that eventually will help supply both the district and the City of Parker extra water from the lower reaches of the South Platte River. That mill levy was certified by county commissioners in the four counties at that time, and the district began collecting the tax revenues in 2020.

As the district board was planning its 2021 budget in December of 2020, however, a group of taxpayers objected, pointing to the 1996 ballot measure’s final sentence. It reads, “No local tax rate or property mill levy shall be increased at any time, nor shall any new tax be imposed without the prior approval of the voters of the LSPWCD.”

Jim Aranci, a former chairman of the district’s board, said Wednesday that the wording of that 1996 de-Brucing question was quite clear…

Joe Frank, general manager of the conservancy district, said Friday he’d heard rumors of a lawsuit being filed, but was not at liberty to discuss the issue further. He did, however, reaffirm the board’s position that the increase was thoroughly researched in 2019 before it was instituted for the 2020 budget year. He said the district’s legal counsel pointed to other wording in the de-Brucing ballot question: That the district could “utilize the full proceeds and revenues received from every source whatever, without limit.” And those “full proceeds and revenues” included the remaining half-mill originally allowed by statute but never used. In other words, the public vote would only be needed if the district wanted to exceed its original allowance of 1 mill.

Frank reiterated Friday that the board did not take the step lightly, and spent a lot of resources getting the right answers to its questions…

The water district has still been allowed to collect its 1 mill levy, since it was certified for the 2020 budget year. According to Colorado Revised Statute 39-1-111 (3) “If the board of county commissioners … fails to certify such levies to the assessor, it is the duty of the assessor, upon direction of the division of local government, to extend the levies of the previous year …”