The art of quinzhee building leads students to a deeper understanding of snowpack – and of their place in this world
First published in CMC student Dustin Eldridge’s blog, Steamboat Livin’.
Quinzhee City. Population 16. Built in one snowy night deep in Routt National Forest, the city consisted of four dome-shaped snow shelters inhabited by Colorado Mountain College students and instructors. The goal: learn to embrace the harsh conditions of winter; become one with the snow-covered landscape around us. This is Snow Orientation.
Camping in the snow is not for everyone. Most people in our current society view snow as a threat; it’s cold and wet, makes driving a hazard, and inhibits many of our daily routines and entertainment. Snow, like many other random parts of the American cultural spectrum, polarizes our nation into two groups. There are those who embrace it, and those who hate it. However, a hatred of snow and the cold would do one no good on an expedition of this sort. In order to live in the snow, as well as to truly understand the importance of it, one must embrace the snow.
The inhabitants of Quinzhee City, pilgrims escaping civilization, were without many of the comforts of home. In order to survive, they had to adapt and study the creatures around them for clues to thrive in this harsh environment. While the natural inhabitants of the forest have had their bodies adapt over millenia, we had to make mental adaptations. We used the insulating qualities of snow for our shelters, stoves to melt water, and delicious concoctions of jello and butter to keep us warm during the frigid nights.
I had made my first pilgrimage to Quinzhee City the year before. I made the choice to go back again this year, in order to help the uninitiated make the difficult transition to a winter environment. Not only would I help the others learn, but I had much to learn myself.
Leading a group in the cold of a Rocky Mountain winter has many challenges, especially in a diverse group of 16 people. Once the sun goes down, the sounds of backcountry stoves laboring against the cold fill the air around camp. To make dinner, melt drinking water, and make the ever important hot drink takes up a lot of time and energy. Keeping feet and other extremities warm during this time is a challenge, and can be the most difficult part of the trip. Imagine standing in the snow for one hour; let alone for fourteen hours a day over four days and nights.
However, once dinner was over, we retreated to the warmth of our quinzhees. Quinzhees are essentially igloos that are built by piling snow into a dome shape and hollowing it out from the inside. The ability to go from single-digit temperatures outside to a cozy quinzhee of 40 degrees is an empowering feeling. Not only are we surviving in the snow, but we’re living pretty comfortably as well.
Our days would start with rays of sunshine poking through the small quinzhee entrances. After putting all my layers back on, sliding like a penguin through the front door, I would be greeted by a row of jagged peaks running across the horizon, all sorts of clouds puffing and dancing above them. Some days started with a skintrack up the ridge behind us, with some amazing powder turns back to camp. Others started with coffee, simply enjoying the sunshine and company of the people around me. After breakfast, we would delve into the world around us for more clues about survival in this unforgiving world.
We spent much time learning about the very thing we were living and walking on, and even drinking; the snowpack. The snowpack plays a huge role in almost everyone’s lives, even if they don’t realize it. It’s not only a source of recreation and employment for the hundreds of thousands who flock to ski areas and mountain passes around the western United States; it’s the life-blood of society for everyone who lives from Colorado west to California. Without the spring runoff from the high mountains, farmers couldn’t grow their crops, streams and rivers would run dry, and life in the American West would become almost impossible. Cities as far away as Las Vegas and Los Angeles are dependent on the runoff from mountains contributing to the Colorado River basin. After an exceptionally low snowfall last year, and already amidst a drought, this lesson is as important as ever. By 2050, the state of Colorado has already determined that there will be a gap between the demand for water and our supply. Our life is dependent upon the snow storms that bring snow to our mountains.
Like the snowpack, our time in the mountain playgrounds outside of Steamboat came to an end. However, like the cyclical nature of the snowpack, this trip initiated a deeper understanding of our place in this world for 16 individuals. This understanding will lead to a sharing of knowledge, and to others understanding. Soon, not only the knowledge and importance of the snowpack, but our place in the American West as humans, will be better understood by everyone. Only then can we hope to create a system in which we can all live harmoniously in this magnificent environment, in this place we call home.