April…

AS I WRITE, snow falls heavily outside. Off and on all day the flakes have alternated between thick flurrying clouds, and wispy blowing dustiness, with bits and pieces of sunshine. We’re experiencing what the local weather guru refers to as a “wrap-around low” – with moisture spinning backwards off the desert, little wind, and temperatures remaining well below freezing.  Easily ten feet of snow still stands outside, with a foot of fresh, and more falling, one could easily confuse today with a mid-winter storm day, but in fact, it’s April. April 8th.

Sharon boarding "Lucille", an '84 Landcruiser, in Mammoth, en route to Baja.

Having “missed” much of the winter, both traveling on the road and surfing down in Baja, Mexico.   I was hoping to catch plenty of spring sunshine, a deep snowpack, and long days in the mountains when I returned home.  So far, though, it’s been a waiting game.  Not long after getting home it snowed several feet over the course of just a few days, blocking all light and view from the bedroom window.  And this bedroom window is ten feet off the ground.  That was followed by a stretch of hot, literally summer-like weather, with highs reaching into the 60s, and lows not dropping below freezing for a few days.  And now, after a short spell of good spring weather, I’m watching the snowpack climb higher again—windless feathery snowflakes tumbling down to lean against the glass.

When will we see bare ground in this town?

Perhaps I should describe where I live for those that don’t know first hand the wild rigors of Eastern California. Mammoth Lakes is at nearly 8,000 feet in elevation, surrounded by peaks ten to thirteen thousand feet tall, but beginning just a few miles away is the Great Basin.  Already devoid of its brief mid-winter snowpack, it is an ocean of sagebrush, piñon, juniper, and mountain mahogany, until yet another massively tall mountain range lurks up along the eastern skyline.  The White Mountains, which reach over 14, 000 feet, and stay above 11,000 feet for most of their length, still have snow along their singular crest, and there is yet another basin beyond them.  And so it goes—basin and range country.  We have the deepest valley in North America (Owens Valley), the highest peak in the Contiguous 48 states (Mt. Whitney), and the lowest point in all of the U.S. (Death Valley).  We have mountain passes with 70 inches of water sitting on the ground (in the form of snow), within just a few short miles of a desert that barely feels a single kiss of rain.  It’s a wild place.  A land of extremes.

David Scott enjoys a whole new round of fresh, Mammoth b.c.

So it should come as no surprise—this weather.  Every year is different, and April always has the potential to pack a last minute punch.  During my first spring in the area it snowed a little every day for a few weeks, and we skied some of the best powder of the season, and a few years later it dumped nearly 100 inches helping to salvage a dry winter.  Truly this is normal, this April snow storm.  To be skiing corn snow one day, and powder the next might be the best definition of April here along the eastern flank of the Sierra Nevada.  Google yields a definition, among others, that claims April is Aphrodite’s month – goddess of beauty and love.  Perhaps a better writer than I could stretch that into the background for this snowstorm, but better even than that is the definition that claims April means “to open”, which of course harmonizes well with buds opening into spring flowers and “April showers bring May flowers” – and so forth.  April appears to be a popular name among women, and a very popular surname among all genders.

Here it is certainly popular among skiers.

I go to bed late, waking to the sounds of my roommate rekindling the coals of last nights fire.  Pure blue shines through the sliver of view that still remains of my window.  It’s going to be a cold, “bluebird” powder day.  Mammoth Mountain is reporting 18-32 inches of new snow in two days, with 624 inches for the season—52 feet.  Previous records reached 575 or so.  Water for coffee boils, then steams as it drips through the filter into my waiting mug.  Potatoes and an egg with salsa, and I’m ready to head out the door for a sweet run of powder in the backyard.

Yup.  Welcome to the Eastside.  Welcome to the Sierra Nevada. Welcome to April.