Snow Kings

 As we pull into the hotel parking lot, the falling snow thickens, adding a surreal atmosphere to our destination.  Snow turns my hair and shoulders a whiter shade of  pale, as we grab our luggage and head to the hotel lobby.  A heavenly blanket had reduced Mercedes Benz, BMW and Audi vehicles to mounds of luscious, pure snow, part soft and part frozen.  Our simple Toyota Avalon will soon join the other vehicles, indistinguishable in features, status or cost.

Glancing through the snow toward the steel framed structure with its clapboard siding and asphalt shingled roof, I imagine the Overlook Hotel from the book "The Shining," Stephen King's masterpiece later made into Stanley Kubrick movie starring Jack Nicholson and Shelly Duvall.

Instead, it's the Geneva Inn, located on the shores of Lake Geneva, its waters frozen solid by weeks of sub zero temperatures.  

We check in, then head to our room with a champagne glass in hand -- courtesy of the hotel staff -- helping us celebrate the arrival of the weekend, and more importantly, the beginning of Winterfest, Lake Geneva's annual celebration of winter.  

Liz pushes the room door open, treating us to a view reminiscent of the Inn's glorious history -- spacious, luxurious, bright yellow and comfortable, with a private balcony overlooking Lake Geneva.  I walk to the balcony doors and enjoy the panoramic view of blowing snow drifting across the lake, obscuring the large summer estates lining its eastern shores. 

Years ago, who could have imagined the tremendous development around Lake Geneva?   

From its simply beginnings when the Potawatomi Indians would dig for clams along Big Foot Lake 's muddy shores or in its sandy bottom to trade with the French; to the arrival of the railroad  which spurred rapid development around the lake (now called Lake Geneva) bringing more people to the area  (ironically, the same railroad made it possible to remove thousands of tons of Lake Geneva ice, which were shipped each year to Chicago); or years later, when wealthy businessmen would build lake homes seeking refuge from Chicago's hot summers?  

Following a similar path, the hotel we are staying in today has undergone various renditions -- the original residence, known as Gypsy Lodge became Sunnycroft, then Buttons Bay Inn before being torn down completely in the 1980's.  The Geneva Inn, as it is known today, opened in 1990 with its sweeping patio deck, an award winning restaurant, stunning atrium and a beautiful marina full of some of the best boats on the lake.

I close the balcony doors and turn to face Liz unpacking our bags.  "It's beautiful out there, " I say.  "Snowy and cold, but beautiful"

It's a dream come true for us -- simple travelers hoping to enjoy a snowy weekend in February along the shores of one of Wisconsin's great lake communities.

Yes, we are in Lake Geneva for Winterfest, and we are looking forward to the 37th annual U.S. National Snow Sculpture Championship, featuring fifteen teams from around the continental United States.  It's the only national contest of its kind.  There are state and international competitions, but only one national contest and its right here.

It's not our first time in Lake Geneva for the national championships, but I'm impressed nonetheless.  The skill set needed to carve some of these sculptures is beyond the ability to carve and shape snow.  It's been said that building a quality snow sculpture takes three days -- around the clock, 24 hours -- but the process itself starts long before with months of planning and teamwork.

In addition, before they start carving in Lake Geneva, teams must qualify for the national championship by winning or placing in their state competition the previous year.  So it's a long process and not easy to qualify.

This year's top competitors include teams from New York, North Dakota, Wisconsin. Michigan, Illinois, Florida, North Dakota, Alaska, New Hampshire, Vermont, Colorado and Iowa.  Teams consist of three  members, ages ranging from late twenties to late sixties, who have been carving sand and snow for many years, some as long as 35 years.  Backgrounds in art, engineering, architecture and carpentry are common interests that coalesce into sculpting skills during college years and later through their jobs.  Most have spent years traveling to national and world championships in  places like China, Norway, Canada and Switzerland.

A good team is one that moves beyond individual skills and develops chemistry between the team members.  The result can be a winning formula that results in a top three finish or fan favorite..  While no money is involved in winning, members will have bragging rights until the next competition.

Typically, a team will start working on a design for their snow sculpture during the summer, often by using a clay mold, where each member will put their style to it..  That is followed by months and hundreds of hours of working together on a cohesive design that satisfies everyone.

Unlike making a snowman, where you stack balls of snow on top of each other, snow sculpting is a reductive process, starting with a 8 by 9 foot cylinder of severely-packed snow that is chiseled away at it until they have the finished product.  Members will use shovels, hand saws, wooden spoons and machetes.  Many teams will bring their own home-made tools to give them the edge they need when carving.

Weather and quality of snow play a major factor in the outcomes.  Too warm or too cold make it hard to carve (too warm and things fall apart, too cold and you can't feel your hands which makes sculpting really hard) and no one wants rocks or dirt in the snow brought in to make the cylinders of snow.  One of the team members said the snow is brought in from nearby farms and fields where it lies undisturbed.

This year's weather should be perfect, with a week of sub-zero temperatures at night and teens for a daytime high.

"Too bad it's so cold this year," I say over a steaming cup of hot chocolate.  "Can you imagine spending all week outside in this weather?  I don't know how they can do it."

Liz and I are sitting in Speedo's Harborview Cafe and Bar, located across the street from the Riviera Plaza where the snow sculpting is taking place.  We had taken a quick look at five of the best sculptures, and been driven indoors by the cold wind blowing off Lake Geneva.  Despite temps in the teens, the wind was making it feel terrible.

I look at the menu on the table and see hand-made omelets, sandwiches and drinks.  I wasn't hungry since we had just eaten breakfast wraps at Great Eggs a few blocks away, but I still had enough room for a hot drink.  

I look at Liz and say, "The menu says this is the view that has captivated presidents, mobsters and families for the last 100 years."  She has removed her coat and gloves, but as usual, kept her hat firmly in place.  Her cheeks are a rosy red.  "Which ones are we?"

"Your definitely not presidential material and it's just you and me, so I guess that leaves mobsters," she says.  "I'm going to have to start calling you Tim "Baby Face" Carlson, if that's really the case.  Of course today, with masks and scarves I don't know how many people are going to see that sweet face of yours."

"You really think so Pretty Pants?  With all of this grey hair?"

Before she can reply the corner door opens and a collection of thick coats, scarves, mittens and heavy boots walk into the café.  Somewhere in the middle of all that fabric are Paul and Kelli along with Doug and Peggy, who are joining us today for Winterfest.  They have joined us from Holmen and Berlin, having spent the night in Elkhorn.  They aren't moving too quick, so it is either the long underwear or the bourbon they drank last night.

"Hey guys," I say, waving my hand.  "Over here."

It's a small restaurant, so there isn't much room to maneuver, but the mound of clothing shuffles its way over to our table.  The one wearing a bright yellow hat -- that would be Peggy -- says, "Where's Jack and Barb?"

Originally, Jack and Barb were joining us for our two day stay in Lake Geneva, but plans changed during the week leading up to the weekend.  Unfortunately, we had traveled on Friday by ourselves.

Liz, clearing space at our table, says "Guess what?  Barb tested positive for Covid on Wednesday night.  So they are at home.  Staying warm, I might add."

"Oh no!  I hope she's ok?" asks Peggy, having removed some of the layers of clothing and looking more like herself.  

She sits at the table next to Doug, while Paul and Kelli slide in next to me.  Soon there is a stack of gloves, hats, scarves and hand warmers piled on the table, leaving little room for anything else.  Paul's bright red, Wisconsin cap sits on top, like a beacon to any challenge coming from outsiders having made the trip from Chicago.

"I think she's doing good -- just the usual symptoms with Omicron, a sore throat and congestion.  But the clinic is going to make her wait 10 days before they'll let her back.  Seems like a long time to me for someone who was vaccinated."

A few minutes later, we are putting Covid behind us (like we have for the past two years) and are ordering drinks -- Bloody Mary for Doug and Peggy and coffee for Paul and Kelli.  Liz has exchanged her hot chocolate for a Nutty Irishman.  And no, that doesn't refer to me.  Come on, I'm not Irish.

Outside the café, more and more people are arriving, with children and dogs.  It's so cold even the dogs are wearing jackets.  Everyone is wandering from one carving to another, stopping to take pictures and talk to the team still working on finishing touches.  More and more mounds of clothing are entering the café to warm up and eat some breakfast.  It's not long before we are enjoying the smell of eggs, bacon and hash browns, or in some cases tomato juice and Tabasco sauce. 

"Have you seen any of the sculptures yet?" asks Liz, sipping on her hot drink.

Someone says they walked past ten or so on the way to the restaurant.  But the five best are across the street near the boathouse, and they haven't been there yet.  The journey from their car through downtown to the lake was cold enough to drive everyone inside before looking around.

I lean toward Kelli to let a waitress walk past the table, her arms loaded with breakfast food.  "There's a team from Florida who have a really interesting one.  But you ask me, Lake Geneva seems like the last place you'd expect to find a team from Florida.  You'd have to be crazy to leave 70's and 80's for this weather."

Crazy, maybe.  

But not without sculpting experience.  Two members of the Florida team explained the crossover to snow as a way to continue their love for sculpting and stay sharp during the winter months when competitions take them from Florida to Maine, Minnesota and Wisconsin.  The difference between sand and snow is really a matter of degrees, moisture and clothing --  and one the Florida team has embraced with recent success.

This year's Winterfest 2022 National Championship winner was Wisconsin team "Sculptora Borealis," who had won the top national title three of the last four years.  It's winning sculpture "Deeper Connections" featuring two heads coming together despite a media narrative pushing people apart and into disagreeing groups.\

Sounds like a lot of liberal talk to me, but then again I'm not there to be swayed by this year's politically correct theme.  I'm there for the art and amazing talent on display.  Team Wisconsin's sculpture was beautiful and worthy of its first place finish. 

Coming in second was the team from Florida --  Flozen:  Less Latitude More Attitude.  The sculpture took second place in the National Championship judging and third in the People's Choice selection.  Apparently all their experience gained on the beach building sand castles paid off with this year's big win.

Rounding out the winners in third place, was the hearty team from North Dakota, which won with their snow sculpture named "Here There Be Dragons."

This year's contest, like the others during Winterfest for the past thirty years, define what can be done if you follow your heart's passion, and have a creative degree in engineering or some type of liberal arts.  The weather -- some refer to it as the fourth teammate -- is always a challenge, but the carvers who qualify for the Lake Geneva competition know how to handle it and despite how hard it is on them, rally through nighttime low temperatures of 15 to 20 degrees below zero.   

Not everyone has the passion or skills needed to compete, but everyone coming to Lake Geneva can appreciate the dedication and artistry created during the festival.

As one builder said, "These sculptures are the best of the best, and we know better than anyone what's supposed to be done when sculpting with snow.  And the camaraderie is really great.  We'll look at the sculptures and see something that we have never been able to do, and know how impressive that is."

As someone who struggles making a snowman, I couldn't agree more.