[Student Voices] White Winters Disappearing
Published: 17 Jun. 2024, 09:20
Jimin Kang (Korea International School Jeju, Grade 9)
by Jimin Kang (Korea International School Jeju, Grade 9)
One day last February, there was a heavy downpour in Gangwon Province. My ski team had to go out to the slopes in raincoats. The plaza we had to cross to get on the lift was entirely covered by water and slushy snow. We reluctantly moved through it as our skis and boots dipped into the water. When I got onto the lift, water started to pool in the raincoat wrinkles and soak through my ski suit.
As the lift carried me up the mountain, I reflected that training wasn’t always like this. I have been skiing professionally for five years now, and remember that the slopes used to be almost all-white at this time of year. Of course, it seldom rained back then. And it certainly never rained to an extent that ski resorts were in danger of closing down for the season.
Recently, Korea has seen dramatic changes to the winter weather. Last year, there was a “December heavy rain alert” in Gangwon Province, the coldest region in Korea. It was the first time this happened since records were taken in 1999. Delays in ski resort openings have become frequent. This ski season, only three resorts were able to open before December. In 2014, the year I first started skiing, there were six. Eden Valley Resort in Yangsan, the first resort I ever skied at, delayed its opening this year until the day before Christmas Eve. For me, it was heartbreaking to hear that the resort hadn’t been able to keep its doors open.
When I got off the lift near the top of the mountain, the fog was thicker and the rain was more intense. I skied down to our team’s private slope, avoiding the warning flags put on hazardous areas where the snow was too thin. It seemed that the number of flags was increasing every day. I wondered how many more days it would take for the flags to cover the slope entirely. When I reached the slope we used for training, I saw our coaches pouring urea on it. We usually use urea, a kind of snow hardener, when we go training overseas in the summer. I wasn’t expecting to see it in winter.
As I continued down the mountain, slushy snow splattered on my ski suit and goggles. I couldn’t see the gate that was almost right in front of me due to the rain, fog, and splatter. The flapping raincoat restrained me from moving freely. The comments I got from my coaches through the walkie-talkie were glitching due to the water that soaked into the speaker. Eventually, our team had to give up and leave the slopes early.
I’ve only participated in a few competitions this year, and one was in the rain after multiple weather postponements. It’s hard to race competitively and safely in these conditions. I’ve begun to worry about whether Korean ski resorts and competitions can maintain themselves. I don’t want to lose ski resorts that are home to my precious childhood experiences. But, of course, this is not just about me. Most of the skiers I’m training with have dedicated their lives to the sport. It would be devastating if skiing became no longer possible in Korea.
Nevertheless, we can anticipate a brighter, whiter future. Many ski resorts are trying to adapt to the changes through advanced snowmaking technologies. Additionally, indoor ski facilities are increasingly being built around the world. Currently, there are more than a hundred. Still, even though indoor skiing offers a promising alternative, it would be great if we can maintain the natural beauty of our slopes.
with the Korea JoongAng Daily
To write comments, please log in to one of the accounts.
Standards Board Policy (0/250자)