Snow is the “keystone species” of the American West ecosystem, more intricately connected to global factors than we might think. As sure as the sun rises each morning, the snow falls in the Wasatch each winter. But a local extinction of snow is a real possibility and would be a devastating loss to the American West.
The future of snow in the Wasatch depends on the overall health of the snowpack (the slow-melting accumulation of snow during a season) rather than the independent events of snowstorms. A thick and stable snowpack will continue to distribute water evenly far into the summer months, when downstream ecosystems, agriculture, and economies need moisture the most. In some watersheds in the West, the snowpack holds more water than man-made reservoirs and is responsible for filling existing reservoirs like Lake Powell.
Picture the snow that decorates our mountains as millions of white trumpeter swans migrate north to nest in the Wasatch each winter, folding their 10-foot wingspans into their sides and ruffling white feathers into shadows of ridgelines and pines. Their necks curve up along canyon floors, freezing creeks with icy breath; their glassy-orbed eyes reflect in icicles; their droppings frost the bare branches of aspen. During the winter months your life is graced and defined by the presence of these swans. As time rolls forward through seasons and years, there might be changes in when the swans arrive, how many make the journey, and how long they stay, but never have they simply not shown up.
With the increasing scarcity and unreliability of the flock, however, each new season arrives with a mist of uncertainty. Imagine a year when only a scattering of swans arrived, or none at all.
How would we deal with this extinction of snow?
How would we deal with the absence of those millions of snowy trumpeter swans that fill our reservoirs, saturate the plush bedding for crimson wildflowers in the summer, swell our creeks and economies year round, and fling a quilt of six pointed crystals over the body of the Wasatch each winter?
However, the future of the swans, of the snow, is uncertain and concerning. The snowpack is changing rapidly. It’s a cause for alarm to all living near the Wasatch, whether you ski or not.
According to the EPA, from 1955 to 2016 the average snowpack level in the West declined by 23 percent. Though last season was the snowiest in the last decade, overall the Wasatch snowpack is following this declining trend.
Local environmental factors, like dust storms kicked up from open pits in the Salt Lake Valley and particulate matter from our cars, the same that cause our infamous inversions, contribute to the degradation of the snowpack, making it more saline and prone to melting. Globally our snow is threatened by a shifting climate, caused by carbon emissions, that favors precipitation as rain rather than snow. Though rain delivers limited moisture to the Wasatch, the snowpack acts as a savings bank for our watersheds during the rest of the year.
Utah may boast one of the healthiest ski industries in the country, but we rely on snow for far more than recreation. Along with clean air and public lands, we need to fight for our snowpack.
Ayja Bounous, Salt Lake City, is a Utah native and a recent graduate of the University of Utah’s Environmental Humanities Graduate Program.
