Looking out over the expanse of snowless prairie, I watched a band of white sunrise light etch its way upward along a lift line at Canyons Village. Above it all, dark, menacing clouds hung in the sky, creating that anticipatory feeling that a massive storm might be on its way. Outside, terrifying w inds swept across the landscape. Could this be the big one rolling in? Or, maybe not. It has been an odd holiday here in Park City this season, to say the least. Over pints of Offset at the Sticky Wicket, locals and tourists alike shook their heads, exchanged a few painful laughs, and simply exclaimed, “You just can’t beat Mother Nature.” We found a bit of solace texting California friends from Mammoth Mountain to Palisades Tahoe, asking them to send us some of their unused dump of 40 inches. In return, Parkites visiting family in New England pledged to bring back an extra bag of freshly fallen snow. At least there was confirmation that winter still existed somewhere. Here in Park City, we made the best of the situation by welcoming thousands of visitors to the place we love to call home. Most were understanding. They appreciated our creativity. And they joined us in prayers for snow. Across our local ski resorts, marketing teams pivoted from seasonal promotions to off-mountain activities designed to engage visiting families. From live DJs at resorts to family movies at the Grand Summit at Canyons Village, visitors adjusted and found new holiday adventures in our little mountain town. From Deer Valley to Park City to Woodward, late-night snowmaking crews slung hoses and hauled guns across the mountains, taking advantage of brief windows of low temperatures to lay down strips of white. Their artistry was a welcome sight each morning at dawn. High on the ridgelines above Park City’s Mountain Village, ski patrollers tromped across limited natural snowfall, boot-packing more than 60 acres of terrain. The effort would help prepare the slopes for faster openings when the snow gods finally did their thing. With little help from Mother Nature, resort teams relied on years of experience, ingenuity, and enterprising creativity. Knowledge of weather patterns — especially temperature — an understanding of the science of snow, and a willingness to think outside the box helped open run after run. Over the past weeks, we watched from town as brown ski runs slowly but surely turned white. As armchair quarterbacks, it’s easy to think: just blow snow, groom it out, open the lift. We cheered last week when Bonanza Express opened at Park City Mountain, giving access to the top. Oh, if only it were that simple. You can’t spin Bonanza without opening Angle Road to shuttle skiers back to Homerun — and there’s no snowmaking on that narrow cat track through the trees. So creativity took over. With strong snowmaking up high, one snowcat dug into a whale of snow and dumped it into another cat, which then hauled it down the mountain to fill in Angle Road. Soon enough, the lift was spinning. That same adaptability carried Woodward Park City through the holidays. With a community-wide need for family activities, Woodward shifted priorities, setting aside extreme park features to get the tubing hill open by Christmas. It doubled down on beginner terrain for families with new skiers and riders, and even opened a few jib features along the way. As locals, we have our own benchmarks. We all remember those 40-inch Christmas Eve powder days — and the shoveling required just to get from the car to the house. That wasn’t this year. With limited terrain available, visitors found other ways to enjoy their Park City holiday. They packed the shops on Historic Main Street, grabbed pizzas at Red Banjo, and quaffed beers at No Name. Out at Kimball Junction, guests lingered over the exhibits at the Alf Engen Ski Museum, which recorded some of its busiest days of the entire year. Then, just days after Christmas, I woke to brilliant rays of sunlight reflecting off powder-covered ridgelines. There was still plenty of work ahead — but in the words of Sammy Cahn, whose famous tune was penned during a hot Los Angeles summer: “Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!” And when you get up on the mountain this winter, thank a liftie. Happy New Year. The post Ridgelines: A Christmas without Mother Nature appeared first on Park Record. ...read more read less