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The Arctic boundary stalled over Jay Peak on Monday like a guest who doesn’t know when to leave. This was the twelfth such front since the season began, each one dragging another load of snow across the Canadian border into northern Vermont. By the time meteorologist Tim Kelley tallied the totals, the resort had crossed 300 inches for the season – a milestone reached earlier than any year on record.
Jay Peak averages 300 inches in a full season. They hit that number in late January.
Two thousand miles west, Utah Governor Spencer Cox was asking people to pray for snow. His state sat at 62 percent of average snowpack, with more than 90 percent experiencing drought conditions. This marked the fourth time since 2021 that Cox had issued some version of a divine weather request.
“We’re grateful to the faith communities across Utah who are coming together this week to pray for snow,” Cox wrote. “With more than 90% of our state experiencing drought and snowpack well below normal, this is a moment for unity.”
Two thousand miles separate these mountains. This winter, it might as well be two different planets.
The East’s Windfall
Jay Peak’s season started strong in November, crossing 100 inches before December arrived. Then things got absurd. December brought consistent cold and frequent storms. When a major winter storm swept the eastern United States in late January, Boston recorded over 20 inches. New York’s Central Park saw 11.4 inches. Shaun White snowboarded through Manhattan streets.
The storm reached Vermont with full strength. Jay Peak added another foot. Stowe picked up ten. The snowpack across New England sat at 135 percent of normal – not just above average, but substantially so. Maine’s resorts joined the party. Saddleback’s marketing team even issued a tongue-in-cheek apology for the stress their powder might cause.
For context: the East typically plays second fiddle to the West in snowfall totals. But this season flipped the script. Jay Peak became the snowiest resort in the Western Hemisphere. Alyeska in Alaska sat at 234 inches. Mount Baker, holder of the world record for a single season, had seen 280 inches.
Jay Peak had them beat by late January, with three months of winter still ahead. The 2000-2001 season record of 581 inches was suddenly in play.
The West’s Dry Reckoning
Utah’s ski season didn’t just start poorly. It barely started. Brian Head pushed back its November opening multiple times, waiting for temperatures cold enough to make snow. The Wasatch resorts – Alta, Snowbird, Brighton, Solitude – all delayed openings or operated on limited terrain through the holidays.
The problem wasn’t just lack of snow. It was warmth. December 2025 set temperature records across Utah – the warmest December on record. When precipitation did arrive, it often fell as rain at mid-elevations.
Brad Riesenberg, who has worked in winter sports around Park City for over two decades, put it simply: “This is up there with some of the worst, if not the worst.” His backcountry snowmobiling business lost money as customers canceled tours.
Colorado faced parallel struggles. Denver didn’t see measurable snow until November 29, more than a month past normal. Keystone, Vail, Breckenridge, and Winter Park all operated at half capacity or less through the holidays. The worst Christmas conditions since at least the early 1980s.
Snow water equivalent – the measure that matters for water supply – sat below 60 percent of median across most Colorado and Utah basins. Over 80 percent of all SNOTEL stations were experiencing snow drought, defined as snow water equivalent below the 20th percentile.
The common denominator: record warmth. Nearly every major river basin in the West experienced a November among the top five warmest on record. December continued the pattern.
For Utah, the stakes extended beyond skiing. The Great Salt Lake sat at its third-lowest elevation in more than 120 years of recordkeeping. One question that looms large is 2034 – the Winter Olympics. Governor Cox had posted a bold promise an hour before his prayer request: “When the world comes back to Utah for the 2034 Olympic Games, the Great Salt Lake will be full.”
The lake is not currently trending in that direction.
The Meteorological Divide
Jet streams are invisible rivers of air that steer weather systems and decide who gets snow. This winter, the jet stream chose sides.
A persistent trough carved over the eastern United States, pulling Arctic air masses down from Canada. This cold air parked itself over the Northeast and refused to budge. Storm systems following the jet stream found abundant Atlantic moisture, cold temperatures to keep precipitation frozen, and a slow-moving pattern that allowed multiple storms to track similar paths.
For Jay Peak, positioned near the Canadian border, the setup proved ideal. Arctic boundaries stalled overhead. Coastal storms tracked north with strength. Everything aligned.
The West saw the opposite. High pressure ridging built over the Pacific and blocked storms from reaching the Rockies. When systems did break through, they arrived with mild temperatures. December temperatures in Fort Collins, Colorado, matched the average for March.
The warmth had consequences. Precipitation that should have fallen as snow at 8,000 or 9,000 feet instead arrived as rain. Snow that did fall faced unusually high melt rates. Water year-to-date precipitation across much of the West actually ran near or above normal – but it fell as rain, percolating into soil or running off rather than building snowpack.
Colorado and Utah found themselves in the gap – too far south to catch the northern storm track, too far north to benefit from subtropical moisture. The pattern went the wrong way.
Is this normal? Year-to-year variability in snowfall is expected. But the severity of this divide stands out. Historical measurements dating back to the 1920s show declining snowpack trends across most of the West. More precipitation falls as rain at mid-elevations. This season’s warmth aligns with those long-term projections.
The Prayer and the Policy
Governor Cox’s prayer request was not his first. He issued similar calls in 2021 and 2025 for rain, and in 2023 gave thanksgiving for snow that actually arrived. Faith communities across Utah responded to his latest request. Not everyone appreciated the approach. The Freedom From Religion Foundation raised constitutional concerns. The Utah Rivers Council called the rhetoric misleading, noting that rain doesn’t fill reservoirs – snowmelt does.
To be fair, Utah has made genuine legislative progress on water issues. The state’s agriculture water optimization program saved 100,000 acre-feet. Lawmakers rewrote water rights law and made Great Salt Lake restoration a priority.
But as State Senator Scott Sandall acknowledged, there are limits. Evaporation and winter snowfall are the largest factors affecting lake levels. “We can do our part,” Sandall said, “but heaven’s going to dictate the amount of precipitation we get to work with.”
That’s the uncomfortable truth. You can legislate water efficiency, fund conservation programs, rewrite water law. But you cannot make it snow.
When you’re at 62 percent of normal snowpack in late January, the runway for practical action grows short. Historically, February and March deliver the biggest snowfall totals in the Rockies. But forecasts through early February showed continued warmth across the Southwest. Getting from 62 percent to even average snowpack would require weeks of consistent, cold storminess.
What Happens Next
NOAA’s outlooks through March suggest continued warmth across the Southwest and southern Rockies. Northern regions show equal chances. For Utah and Colorado to recover, they need well-timed colder troughs – periods where the jet stream dips south and storms align properly. Those windows exist during La Niña winters, but they’re less frequent and less reliable.
The East faces different questions. Can the pattern sustain? Jay Peak’s pursuit of 581 inches remains viable – the resort needs roughly 280 more inches over three months. But March and April typically see warming trends. Rain events become more common.
For skiers making decisions now, the calculus is straightforward. The East offers guaranteed snow. The West remains a gamble that has disappointed consistently through January.
The Mountain’s Indifference
The jet stream continues its work, carving patterns across the continent without regard for state boundaries or Olympic commitments. It dips over the East, pulling cold air south. It ridges over the West, deflecting storms north.
Jay Peak will continue accumulating snow as long as Arctic air finds its way south and moisture follows. Utah’s resorts wait for the pattern to shift. The Great Salt Lake continues evaporating. Legislation continues working through committees. The governor continues making both practical appeals and spiritual ones.
This winter has exposed the fragility of water systems dependent on snowpack in a warming world. It’s demonstrated the limits of both policy and prayer when atmospheric conditions refuse to cooperate.
The East drowns in snow it didn’t pray for. The West prays for snow that doesn’t arrive. The jet stream goes where physics sends it, leaving powder on one side and drought on the other, indifferent to which is which.
The season has three months remaining. But the pattern that’s held since November shows no signs of breaking. And somewhere between Vermont and Utah, winter drew a line and decided, for reasons that seem both random and inevitable, which side would feast and which would fast.
