A few weeks before the world’s skiers and ice skaters landed in Zhangjiakou, the capital of the Beijing Winter Olympics, a dozen machines frantically skidded to cover mountains.
The slopes were soon covered with a white cloth, and the canons did not stop there. The deafening noise continued for hours as they covered the entire surface of the gray area to complete the frozen background of the earth. The drops of water they sprayed on the air flowed like white smoke over the stadium as the freezing temperatures and chemicals helped them to freeze.
Artificial ice has become the Winter Olympics as climate change reduces the number of countries receiving enough natural ice to host the event. But Beijing will be the first host to rely entirely on man-made powder. The forthcoming Olympics will also culminate in a six-year effort to transform Zhangjiakou into the Chinese version of the Alps, creating a world-class winter lounge in the hope of lifting the agricultural district out of poverty.
Experts are concerned that the Zhangjiakou shift push will increase regional water shortages, which are among the worst in the country. More than half of Zhangjiakou is “severely depleted by water,” according to China Water Risk, a Hong Kong-based environmental group, and the local water source per person is less than one-fifth of China’s national average.
“There will be some impact in an area where there is almost no water in the winter,” said Carmen de Jong, a geographer at the University of Strasbourg. “For half a year, during the snowy season, the water stays far away from the natural ecosystem.” There is also the danger that artificial ice may be harmful to the environment when it melts.
China would need about 2 million cubic meters of water – enough to fill 800 Olympic swimming pools – to create artificial ice that could block skiing and road access during the Games, according to de Jong.
There are some advantages to manufactured ice, tightly packed and forming smooth and desirable slopes. But the value of artificial ice has risen to unprecedented levels in recent years. About 80% of the ice at the 2014 Games in Sochi, Russia, was produced. When South Korea hosted Pyeongchang four years later, that share increased to 90%.
Part of the problem with this is that the dry region of Beijing-Zhangjiakou is not ready to produce ice. Forty years ago, the average winter rainfall was only 7.9 millimeters. The Swiss city of Davos receives nine times that number in December. Greenpeace estimates that Beijing temperatures could rise as high as 2.4 degrees Celsius on average as the planet warms. Warm weather has already reduced the winter of the region by more than 10 days compared to the 1970s.
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In Zhangjiakou, dry weather means that large amounts of water are lost through evaporation and precipitation during heavy snowfall. Engineers should also pump water to the dry ground to freeze the soil before adding artificial ice above.
That has not prevented China from investing heavily in the Zhangjiakou tourism industry since Beijing won its bid for the 2015 Winter Olympics. Today it has seven busy ski resorts and the city receives 3 million divers a year. The fast train that opened in 2019 takes only 50 minutes from Beijing, allowing for a quick weekend getaway. According to the State Sport Administration, China has already achieved its goal of having 300 million people participate in ice and ice sports. He also built 650 ski resorts and 800 snow-covered ski resorts across the country.
One of Zhangjiakou’s most popular ski resorts, Thaiwoo, sits on a snowy city full of luxurious souvenir shops and expensive hotels and restaurants. The government says the games are a time of change, as investment in infrastructure and activities related to winter sports have lifted more than 430,000 local residents out of poverty.
Nevertheless, officials are aware of the plight of the Olympics in Zhangjiakou waters. Zhao Weidong, a spokesman for the Beijing Winter Olympics, said about 10% of the water used in Chongli, Zhangjiakou district, would be used for ice.
To reduce that pressure and reduce groundwater abstraction, China has built 11 water tanks near the site to collect 530,000 cubic meters of running water, rain and melted ice. Water from a dam in Yunzhou, a town two hours away by car, will also be piped, according to Zhao.
Experts warn that this approach will still affect the local water cycle. The International Olympic Committee even cited the issue as one of the main concerns when considering China’s bid. Beijing “underestimated the amount of water that will be needed to make ice,” notes the IOC inspection report published in 2015, and “extremely limited the ability to replenish water used to make ice.”
Water is not the only natural concern. Making ice on such a large scale is a labor-intensive process that can sometimes spit tons of greenhouse gases. This seems a bit risky, however, as all the snow cannons used by the Games are powered by nearby wind farms, according to Jia Maoting, head of Aoti Construction Development Ltd., which builds some of the facilities.
Outside the ice rinks of Chongli are endless miles of brown hills known as the poverty belt around the capital. Even in dry weather, Zhangjiakou prefecture has long been used as a major water source in Beijing, which also suffers from shortages. With only a few factories, the main economic activities are focused on farming and livestock until the campaign to build the sport of ice sports tourism.
There should be a balance between the natural protection and development, said Zhang Junfeng, the founder of Le Shui Xing, a Chinese non-governmental organization that focuses on river protection and equal access to water. “It’s not all bad,” he said. “The water wouldn’t have been used by local people anyway,” he added, because so much of it is used to feed Beijing’s needs. “At least now some water stays and contributes to the local development.”
Despite promises of prosperity that the ski resorts would bring, some local residents have found only incremental improvements to their daily lives. Chen Jianyong, a 60-year-old farmer, has a second job as a cleaner at Thaiwoo. He says he’s glad the resorts hire locals like him during the cold months when they can’t farm.
But not everyone is happy about the changes. Ren, 54, was forced to relocate after his village was demolished to make room for luxury hotels. The development has destroyed forests and degraded soil in the area, says Ren, who only gave his last name. He earns 2,750 yuan ($430) a month cleaning ice off the street; the job was part of the deal he made with the developer who took his land.
“It’s good that we now have places to work,” said Ren, who now earns less than he used to as a farmer. “It just pays too little.”