🇺🇸▼
As spectators prepare to witness the 2026 Winter Olympics, they anticipate viewing pristine white slopes and athletes navigating vast, snow-covered terrains. This idyllic visual narrative is, in part, the result of a rare, fortuitous storm that recently blanketed the higher-altitude venues in the Italian Alps with fresh powder just in time for the Games. However, the reality for events held at lower elevations, particularly cross-country skiing, presents a starkly different picture. Here, organizers and competitors have grappled with inconsistent rainfall, thinning snowpacks, and surfaces composed of icy, machine-made snow that bear little resemblance to the natural winter conditions of the past.
For scientists dedicated to studying mountain snowpack dynamics and the anthropogenic impacts of a warming climate, these transformations are not merely anecdotal but are clearly quantifiable in their data. They document a trajectory of rising average temperatures, shrinking snowpacks, and significantly abbreviated winter seasons. Olympic athletes, however, experience these shifting parameters with an immediacy and intensity that the public and academic community rarely achieve. The scarcity of natural snowfall, coupled with the increased frequency of rain, dictates the temporal and spatial possibilities for training, fundamentally alters training methodologies, and elevates the inherent danger of the competitive terrain.
As scientists who study mountain snow, water resources and the human impact of warming winters, we see winter’s changes through data: rising temperatures, shrinking snowpack, shorter snow seasons.
Discussions with elite athletes, including Brennan, Ben Ogden, and Jack Young, as they refined their preparations for the 2026 Games, reveal a sport increasingly defined not by the unpredictable variability of natural winter, but by the industrial reliability of artificial snowmaking.
In clouds, each unique snowflake shape is determined by the temperature and humidity. Once formed, the iconic star shape begins to slowly erode as its crystals become rounded spheres. In this way, natural snow provides a variety of textures and depths: soft powder after a storm, firm or brittle snow in cold weather, and slushy, wet snow during rain or melt events.
In the atmosphere, the unique geometry of each snowflake is dictated by specific temperature and humidity conditions. Once formed, the iconic six-pointed star structure slowly erodes as the sharp crystalline edges become rounded spheres. Natural snow offers a complex spectrum of textures and depths: the soft, airy powder following a storm; the firm, brittle crust of cold weather; and the slushy, wet mixture formed during rain or melt events.
In contrast, machine-made snow exhibits far less variation in texture or quality. It originates and concludes its lifecycle as an ice pellet encased in a thin film of liquid water. This characteristic makes it slower to degrade, easier to shape, and, once frozen, it hardens into a firm, unyielding surface.
“Courses built for natural snow feel completely different when covered in man-made snow,” Brennan, 37, said. “They’re faster, icier, and carry more risk than anyone might imagine for cross-country skiing.”
"Courses built for natural snow feel completely different when covered in man-made snow," Brennan, now 37, observed. "They are faster, icier, and carry more risk than anyone might imagine for cross-country skiing."
There is no sensation quite like skiing on fresh, natural snow. After a storm deposits a blanket of light, fluffy powder, the experience can feel almost ethereal, as if one is floating. The snow is forgiving. On artificial snow, however, skiers carry significantly more speed into downhill runs. While downhill racers may embrace this velocity, cross-country skiers lack the metal edges necessary for stability. Attempting to execute step-turns or skid around fast, icy corners on this surface can induce a feeling of being out of control. "It requires a different style of skiing, distinct skill sets and strengths than I grew up learning," Brennan explained.
Elite athletes must adjust their techniques and prepare their equipment differently depending on the specific snow conditions. At the highest levels, this is not merely instinct but advanced applied science. Variables such as snow crystal shape, ambient temperature, ski base material, ski stiffness, skier technique, and environmental conditions all interact to determine an athlete's final speed.
While fast skiing is the goal, ski crashes are also the most common cause of injury in the Winter Olympics. With machine-made snow, ski jump competitors and anyone who falls is also landing on a harder surface, which can increase the risk of injury.
While the objective is fast skiing, ski crashes remain the most common cause of injury in the Winter Olympics. With machine-made snow, ski jump competitors and any athlete who falls land on a significantly harder surface, which substantially increases the risk of severe injury.
While weather can always deliver surprises, long-term climate trends are fundamentally shifting the baseline expectations of a typical winter. In the Alps, the average air temperature has risen by approximately 3.6 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius) since the late 1800s. This warming trend occurred prior to the industrial explosion of fossil fuel consumption that began significantly increasing atmospheric greenhouse gas levels, trapping heat within the atmosphere. Globally, 2025 marked the third-warmest year on record, following the heat extremes of 2024 and 2023.
Warming in high-altitude environments is also causing the rain-to-snow transition threshold to rise by tens of meters per decade in certain regions. This means that storms which once blanketed entire valleys in snow now deliver precipitation only to the upper slopes, with rain falling below. Collectively, these shifts mean that many winter storms produce less snow, cover smaller areas, and persist for shorter durations than they did a generation ago.
Together, these changes mean that many winter storms produce less snow, over less area, and for shorter durations than they did a generation ago.
While training at higher elevations can be beneficial, it concentrates athletes into fewer geographic locations. This centralization reduces access for younger skiers due to the remoteness of these sites and significantly raises costs for national teams. Some of these critical glaciers, such as Canada's Haig Glacier or Alaska's Eagle Glacier, are accessible only by helicopter. When athletes cannot reach natural snow, dryland training on roller skis becomes one of the few remaining viable options.
Higher-elevation training can help, but it concentrates athletes in fewer places, reduces access for younger skiers due to the remoteness and raises costs for national teams. Some of these glaciers – like Canada’s Haig Glacier or Alaska’s Eagle Glacier – are accessible only by helicopter. When skiers can’t get to snow, dryland training on rollerskis is one of the only options.
Because winter is their workplace, athletes often perceive subtle environmental changes before those shifts appear in long-term statistical data. Even athletes in their early 20s, such as Jack Young, have noticed the rapid expansion of snowmaking infrastructure at many racing venues in recent years. Snowmaking is an energy-intensive and water-intensive process, serving as a clear indicator that organizers recognize winters are becoming less dependable.
Athletes also witness firsthand how local communities are affected when poor snow conditions result in fewer visitors. "In the Alps, when conditions are bad, it is obvious how much it affects the communities," Ben Ogden, 25, said. "Their tourism-based livelihoods are so often negatively affected, and their quality of life changes."
Many winter athletes are increasingly speaking publicly about their concerns. Organizations such as Protect Our Winters, founded by professional snowboarder Jeremy Jones, work to advance policies that protect outdoor spaces for future generations.
For the athletes competing at the 2026 Olympics, the variability within the Olympic region—abundant snow at higher elevations contrasted with rain at lower ones—reflects a broader truth: the stability of winter is diminishing. Athletes know this reality better than anyone. They race in it, they train in it, and they depend on it.
The Winter Games will proceed this year, and the snow will look spectacular on television. However, beneath that polished surface, winter is fundamentally changing.