Voboril: Doctoring the forecast
Backcountry skiing has given me more than it has taken, although the losses sting more sharply than the elation floats. Responsible for another maturing life, not wanting to leave anyone mired in the grief that marks my remembrance of those gone too soon, my risk tolerance has declined sharply. Still, I venture out into the mountains with friends, plodding steadily along in the skin track, taking great heaping gulps of the essence of this existence.
Armed with the necessary tools and experience and a deep humility, I continue to educate myself and stay informed, checking the Colorado Avalanche Information Center avalanche report daily, analyzing trends, trying to reduce the chances of mishaps to a manageable number. In this context, the forecast is a vital tool protecting my safety and that of my compatriots, a critical element of the often-complex decision-making that precedes even a simple tour.
Resort skiing is not without its hazards 鈥� inbounds avalanches can and do happen 鈥� although the dedicated and underappreciated work of our ski patrollers and other mountain staff makes those outcomes much more remote. From the perspective of a day on the local hill, a snow forecast is more about anticipation, wondering which day to call in sick, making sure to secure child care for when that big dump hits. Thanks to Joel Gratz and his OpenSnow cohorts, this aspect of forecasting has taken on a religiosity that undergirds life in a ski town, and provides an easy topic if the conversation hits a lull.
A pow day being simultaneously epiphanic and frivolous, the number of inches that may fall is both important and superfluous. Possessing an innate and potentially psychotic optimism, I tend to assume that each snowfall will be biblical, that even a slight chance of snow may metastasize into a blizzard. Being known as a frequent skier, I am often consulted on my take on the forecast. My response is informed by my desire to stoke the stoke and thus is usually padded with the aforementioned and potentially misplaced sanguinity 鈥� if there is even an inkling of snow, I confidently reply that it is going to pound.
Contrasted with my study of backcountry prognostications, my review of potential snow totals for a lift-served day is not scientific. I look at as many sources as possible, take the most promising forecast, and then add 20-50% to the outlook. It is rare that this methodology is accurate, which could lead to abject disappointment. But I have found that I am never as sad when it doesn’t pan out as I am juiced when the storm delivers bigger than expected. It may not be a popular strategy and I’ve been censured by those feeling duped by my radical and relentless optimism, but it works for me.
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As we run, lope, or crawl headlong into 2025, there is a fraught uncertainty that awaits us, politically, socially, economically. Soothsayers across the spectrum share their forecasts, speculate about what may transpire in the new year. Individually and privately, we coalesce our hopes and fears, concoct our resolutions, plan our calendars, gird ourselves, excite each other. As the future creeps on the horizon, a wave of angst or terror is not an insane feeling to harbor. It is rational to be terrified of what may befall us in the year ahead.
Yet I find this concern to be inherently self-limiting and self-fulfilling 鈥� if one assumes the worst, it is more likely to transpire. Personally, I follow the same inclination to fudge the year’s predictions as I do the conjectures about snowfall. By doctoring the forecast, I can maintain as sunny a disposition as possible in these trying times. The resultant cocoon of optimism protects me from plunging into the abyss and has me instead anticipating the glories that await.
T.J. Voboril is a founding partner at Alpenglow Law, LLC, a local law firm, and the owner/mediator at Voice Of Reason Dispute Resolution.聽 For more information, please contact him at 970-306-6456, tj@alpenglowlaw.com, or visit .
