Lessons in shoveling: My first winter in the Mono Basin  

After missing the last major snowstorm while visiting family for the holidays—only to return to a freshly blanketed Sierra … and lots of poconip—there was no chance I was going to miss this mid-February storm. After mostly living in Southern California, this is my first true winter, and I was excited to be in the thick of it. Winter is so novel and exciting! Famous last words?

The excitement started building two weeks before the storm even arrived when the long-range forecast started teasing a system brewing off the coast. Checking the weather brings me great joy and is a highlight of my morning routine in opening Mono Lake Committee Information Center & Bookstore. January’s weather was boring—a few weeks of poconip fog followed by a spell of warm, dry days. I could sense even the meteorologists writing the NOAA forecast discussions were getting a little tired of the stagnant weather. (If you are unfamiliar with the NOAA forecast discussion, I highly recommend it. It’s an excellent pairing with one’s morning coffee when the weather is interesting.)

My friends and coworkers know this is my first winter living here, and many of them checked in and reminded me to stock up on groceries. Stocking up before a storm isn’t just good practice; it’s serious business. In big storms, the Mono Basin communities of June Lake, Lee Vining, and Mono City can become islands isolated from the rest of the world due to road closures. Along Highway 395, Conway and Deadman summits are high-elevation passes which often close during severe winter storms, and there have been times when avalanches have closed the highway for days or even weeks.

A pre-storm mission to Mammoth got me stocked up on food, and I even got my skis waxed. Back at home, I checked the status of my wood pile and covered up the logs. I checked the weather again and the storm was right on schedule.

I was hoping it would snow a bit overnight. I wanted that feeling of waking up in a whole new world, like a kid waking up to a white Christmas morning, but it now seemed that the storm wasn’t arriving on schedule. It was a bit of a letdown to open the blinds to sunny skies and dry streets. In fact, it was more than just a letdown. It was kind of ominous. I knew the storm was coming, but the weather didn’t match that reality.

Later that morning, sunny skies shifted to big snowflakes blowing sideways. I found myself shoveling just two hours after the first snow fell in town. It felt so good getting out there in the weather and shoveling the sidewalk in front of the Information Center & Bookstore. Shoveling snow is so satisfying. It’s a great excuse to slip away from the desk and take in the snowy weather. I love looking back on my cleared area and admiring my work.

And then I shoveled multiple times a day for four… more… days…

Shoveling in the middle of a snowstorm is a Sisyphean task. It’s a lot of work to move snow—clearing sidewalks and digging out parking spaces just to know that I would be doing it all again in a few short hours.

You know how I was talking about things being new and fun? By the fourth day of shoveling, it started becoming less like an escape and more of a chore. And the snowfall totals weren’t even that big. Lee Vining received just over two feet of snow, but snow drifts made it feel bigger than the measurements. Mammoth got dumped on, with snowfall in town totaling over five feet and the top of the resort getting up to eight feet, and here I am complaining about a mere two feet of snow.

The second day of the storm was the start of the highway closures. Highway 395 closed all the way from Mammoth to Bridgeport at the height of the storm. Heavy snowfall and whiteout conditions made driving over Conway and Deadman summits nearly impossible, with several vehicles spinning out around the Deadman area. Avalanche mitigation closed Highway 158 (June Lake Loop) leaving North Shore Drive as the only way in and out of June Lake. It was officially island time in the basin.

The third and fourth days of the storm were less eventful. The closure of the highway from Mammoth to June Lake persisted as CalTrans crews worked to clear the road of both vehicles and snow. The highway closure left Lee Vining even quieter than usual. We didn’t see a single person in the bookstore during the storm period. Nonetheless, Committee staff kept shoveling the storefront to keep it snow free and inviting.

It’s only now that the storm has past that I’m able to reap the benefits of the storm. The plows have cleared the roads and the highway is open. The sun is shining in an impossibly blue alpine sky. From the summit of June Mountain, you can see it all laid out. I will never get tired looking at the freshly blanketed landscape I work to protect.

There are tradeoffs of winter, for sure. It’s hard to motivate for Sisyphean shoveling and Lee Vining feels even more like an island than usual. I’m also not a huge fan of freeing my car from an icy snowplow berm. But for ski turns through soft snow that feel weightless, and the chance to see such beauty that it makes you pause mid-ski run just to take it in, it’s worth it.

Maybe the novelty of winter living will fade in the years to come, but right now, I just feel so lucky to experience winter in the Mono Basin.

Top photo by Brendan Peralez.