for battle. At the Yanqing venue alone, 170 fan-powered
guns and 30 fanless stick lances work around the clock
spraying water mist—sourced from a nearby reservoir
and pressurized through multiple “pump stations”—that
crystallizes into snow on its descent through the chilly air.
“Then we have the biathlon and nordic center
[in Zhangjiakou], with 40 guns and 15 lances; the freestyle
and snowboard venue [at the nearby Secret Garden resort]
with 62 guns and 30 lances; and the big air venue [in down-
town Beijing] with seven lances and no guns,” Mayr adds.
Most of this gear was shipped by ocean freighters that
departed Italy throughout 2018 and ’19 to ensure enough
time for travel and installation. But it wasn’t until mid-
November that temperatures were low enough for the
actual snowmaking to start. The blizzarding results?
By the time the first skiers hit the slopes at the alpine
center, according to its director of mountain operations,
LV Hongyou, more than 1.2 million cubic tons will have
been blasted out, spread by truck-like vehicles called
snowcats, and then groomed for competition by a team
of 20-plus workers.
The snowmaking process for Beijing is projected to pull
49 million gallons of water from natural resources, a figure
that environmentalists will cite as yet another example of
the Olympics’ poor sustainability record. The IOC issued
a lengthy statement to Sports Illustr ated defending
Beijing’s “water-conserving and recycling designs...to
optimise water usage for snowmaking,” such as gathering
melted snow in “retaining lakes.” It also took care to note
that, while some 2,000 villagers living near the alpine
center may use “a modest amount of [reservoir] water to
irrigate fruit trees,” their efforts “will not be impacted.”
This will also be the first time in Olympic history that
a single company supplies all of the snowmaking equip-
ment, earning TechnoAlpin approximately ¤20 million,
Mayr says. He plans to watch from home in Bolzano, Italy,
and admire his company’s handiwork as the competitors
carve down the mountains, spraying puffs of powder in
their wake. It will just be a little less real.
WHEN U.S. cross-country
skier Julia Kern arrives in
Beijing, she will unpack a cache of
lip balm tubes, sunscreen sticks,
lotions and other vital equipment
to help manage the mountain
elements. “Skincare is really
important for us,” she says.
Indeed, for outdoor winter
athletes like Kern, 24, frigid
temperatures and whipping winds
pose a threat as severe as any
opponent—and that’s without
considering the ball of fire in the
sky. “Especially at higher-altitude
venues, it’s easy to get burned
from the reflectivity,” Kern says.
So she slathers on protective
layers before every race, desperate
to avoid chapping, cracking or
worse. Sometimes mid-competition
reapplication is also necessary.
Kern recalls Te am USA physical
therapists passing out SPF 30
cream at the starting line of last
November’s –4° World Cup race
in Finland. “When I joined the
national team, coaches would send
pictures of athletes who’d burned
as a reminder to wear sunscreen,”
Kern says. “It was funny but
also horrific.” —A.P.HOW DO OLYMPIANS
COMBAT THE
CONDITIONS ON
THE SLOPES?