Clinging to some SWE

If you’ve been in one location long enough, patterns become evident. For the touring-addicted, such patterns may be when you reliably need sneakers for an approach. Or when, with the right mix of weather variables, a traverse may come into shape, and the delightfulness of long days and speedy progress on firm snow can be had. Reliable patterns are comforting, especially when organizing your life around the cycle of snowfall and, eventually, snowmelt. 

Let’s assume you’ve invested in the snowfall and snowmelt cycle this season. The East Coast, as we’ve noted in past SWE updates, has experienced copious and consistent snowfall. Snowmelt happens, but, for a good long time, the East Coast served up aces. 

Beyond the 100th meridian, the snowfall lacked attitude while the snowmelt came in earnest. If these words don’t convince you because they are telling, not showing, here’s some data quoted from eastsideweather.com.

“March 2026 produced the worst snowpack loss on record across the Eastern / Southern Sierra. This analysis was conducted on data going back 50 years to 1976. At 30 out of 39 SWE-reporting stations, this was the single worst March for snowpack loss ever observed. At several more, it ranked #2 or #3 out of 40+ years.

39 stations were analyzed across the Eastern / Southern Sierra.

30 of 39 stations set their all-time record for the worst March melt.

8.9″ average SWE loss (vs a normal March gain of 3.7″).

A 12.6″ negative anomaly from the 50-year average.”

Yes, all this is triggering. And for those who prefer to run or bike at the latest possible date during your annual trip around the sun, it is, in no uncertain terms, unsettling. And even then, unsettling seems like a word lacking the proper barbs to emphasize the pain. Here comes the qualifier: we understand the problem here is one related to recreation. Something we associate with fun, and sometimes the type of “Fu_k Yeah!” type of fun. That’s a great type of fun.

But with such consistent prognostications and then realizations of meager SWE, the compounding snowlessness of it all has taken its toll. There’s an excellent piece in the NYT that explores an Australian algal bloom in South Australia. Here’s the title/subtitle: “An Underwater Phantom Is Killing Fish and Breaking Hearts—A mysterious algal bloom has haunted South Australia’s coast for more than a year, killing marine life and unsettling communities that cherish the ocean.”

What’s mightily relevant here is an ancillary paper mentioned in the story: “Psychological toll of a marine environmental crisis.” In short, the algal bloom has made the coastline and adjacent open water toxic to sea life. Humans, rightfully so, are staying away. As a result, a mainstay of stress relief—immersing oneself in the ocean and the associated human communities built around those endeavors—has been lost.  

Living in a mountain town, or a shortish drive to snow from a few-hours-away urban center, provides some alternatives. Mentioned already are those who pivot to two wheels or trail running. They are not touring. Perhaps some THR readers agree, but sliding on snow, with skins on or not, is immersive and rejuvenating. Take that away from some of us, and doom and gloom may be hard to ward off. Although none of us are wearing garlic necklaces, you can conjure up what we are trying to keep at bay. So here it goes….

Some of us are helpless: we are going to keep skis strapped to our feet until the ratio of snow to dirt, or snow to duff, or even snow to pavement, is utterly unfavorable. For some, that’s around 15:1; for others, it’s closer to 5:1, or even more desperate. All told, we are roughly two months ahead of schedule out West regarding the melt-out.

Or, if you have a valid passport and enough cash squirreled away to cover gas, Canada is holding on to winter. With that all out there, we encourage folks to stay healthy and well, and think positively about the potential snow sliding journeys in store for the next revolution around the sun.