Snow science

A butterfly flaps its wings in the Amazon and six months later we get a hurricane in Watford. That, in a nutshell, is what chaos theory is all about - nothing to do with that cupboard under the stairs after all, and everything to do with the idea that stuff has an effect on other stuff.

Well, I reckon a herd of warthogs in the Serengeti must have been breaking wind with more than their usual vigour to judge by the elevated air temperatures Europe has experienced so far this winter. Or doesn't it work like that?

The trouble is, it's very hard not to think about the weather all the time if you ski or board, as the massive online search activity for 'snow reports' demonstrates. We're not unique in this respect - surfers are always looking for the next wave, smacking their lips as another depression rolls in towards their bit of coastline. But they're lucky, needing only the swell to arrive, without worrying too much about the temperatures that accompany it, or if it's going to be raining (look, I don't care if you can hang ten while patting your head, rubbing your tummy and doing sudoku, you're goint to get wet at some point).

We, on the other hand, need the following: a storm that brings precipitation (plenty), at sufficiently cold temperatures, preferably without much wind (avalanche hazard), followed by clear cold weather (but not too cold). Ideally, the action will take place overnight, leaving your days clear to ride.

OK that last bit is not essential, but just the first part is a tall order. So maybe 9 out of 10 good years is pretty respectable, especially when you consider that normal winter freezing altitudes coincide pretty nearly with the height at which you find ideal ski terrain in many parts of the world. Either there is a greater being in charge (and she is a wintersports fanatic) or we're incredibly lucky.