The Avalanche Forecast

At six in the morning the sky above the ski area is the hard, flawless blue that brings people up from the valley in their thousands. Regina, standing at the top of the main lift with a shovel in one hand and a radio in the other, knows she is about to ruin everyone's day.

Pukul enam pagi, langit di atas area ski itu berwarna biru keras tanpa cela, jenis biru yang membuat ribuan orang naik dari lembah. Regina, berdiri di puncak lift utama dengan sekop di satu tangan dan radio di tangan lainnya, tahu bahwa ia akan merusak hari semua orang.

The storm that passed through four nights ago left a metre of new snow on top of an older, thinner layer of sugary crystals. They are the kind that look beautiful in a pit and hold nothing together. She has spent two hours digging, tapping and sawing through blocks of snow with a length of cord, and every test has ended in the same flat, clean break. On the way up, the whole slope settled under her skis with a deep, hollow whump that she felt more in her stomach than in her ears.

Badai yang lewat empat malam lalu meninggalkan salju baru setinggi satu meter di atas lapisan lama yang lebih tipis berisi kristal berbutir seperti gula. Kristal semacam itu tampak indah di dalam lubang galian dan tidak menahan apa pun. Ia sudah dua jam menggali, mengetuk, dan menggergaji balok-balok salju dengan seutas tali, dan setiap uji berakhir dengan patahan yang sama, rata dan bersih. Dalam perjalanan naik, seluruh lereng mengendap di bawah ski-nya dengan bunyi whump yang dalam dan hampa, yang ia rasakan lebih di perut daripada di telinga.

By seven she has written the bulletin, and by seven-fifteen she has come to regret the word "closed." The resort manager is on the radio before she has finished her tea.

Pukul tujuh buletinnya sudah ia tulis, dan pukul tujuh lewat lima belas ia sudah menyesali kata "ditutup". Manajer resor sudah menghubunginya lewat radio sebelum tehnya habis.

"There's not a cloud out there," he says. "People have paid for this."

"Tidak ada awan sama sekali di luar sana," katanya. "Orang-orang sudah membayar untuk ini."

"I know," she says. "It isn't the weather I'm forecasting."

"Saya tahu," katanya. "Yang saya prakirakan bukan cuacanya."

He says something short and unhelpful and signs off. Within an hour the car park is full, and a line of skiers at the rope below the bowl is looking at her as though she had personally invented gravity. Seldom has she been so unpopular before nine in the morning. A man in a bright yellow jacket tells the patrol, loudly and not for the first time, that forecasters sit in offices and have never seen real snow. Regina, who has slept in a snow hole on that very ridge, says nothing.

Dia mengatakan sesuatu yang pendek dan tidak membantu lalu memutus hubungan. Dalam waktu satu jam tempat parkir penuh, dan barisan pemain ski di tali pembatas di bawah cekungan itu menatapnya seolah ia sendiri yang menciptakan gravitasi. Jarang sekali ia sebegitu tidak disukai sebelum jam sembilan pagi. Seorang pria berjaket kuning cerah berkata kepada tim patroli, keras-keras dan bukan untuk pertama kalinya, bahwa para peramal itu duduk di kantor dan tak pernah melihat salju sungguhan. Regina, yang pernah tidur di gua salju di punggung gunung itu juga, tidak berkata apa-apa.

Elif, who runs the patrol, takes the rope line without being asked. She has worked on this mountain for fifteen years and knows better than to argue with a pit. All morning she turns people back with a cheerfulness that Regina, watching from the hut window, envies and could not manage herself.

Elif, yang memimpin tim patroli, mengambil posisi di tali pembatas tanpa diminta. Ia sudah lima belas tahun bekerja di gunung ini dan tahu lebih baik daripada berdebat dengan lubang galian. Sepanjang pagi ia menyuruh orang-orang berbalik dengan keceriaan yang membuat Regina, yang mengamati dari jendela pondok, merasa iri dan tidak sanggup menirunya.

At ten past two, the radio crackles. Elif's voice, very flat and very calm, says that a slide has come down the main bowl: the closed slope, the one with the rope across it. Regina is at the window before the sentence is finished. From the hut she can see it, a long grey tongue of broken blocks, some as big as cars, spread across the run. At eleven o'clock, a hundred people had been asking to be let through there. Nobody was on it. Elif is already counting heads, and the count, when it comes, is exactly right.

Pukul dua lewat sepuluh, radio berderak. Suara Elif, sangat datar dan sangat tenang, mengabarkan bahwa longsoran telah turun di cekungan utama: lereng yang ditutup itu, yang dipasangi tali. Regina sudah berada di jendela sebelum kalimatnya selesai. Dari pondok ia bisa melihatnya, lidah kelabu panjang dari balok-balok yang pecah, sebagian sebesar mobil, terhampar di atas jalur ski. Pada pukul sebelas, seratus orang sempat memohon agar diizinkan lewat di sana. Tak seorang pun ada di atasnya. Elif sudah menghitung kepala, dan hitungannya, ketika datang, tepat sekali.

What Regina feels is not triumph. Had the sky been grey, nobody would have questioned her at all; it was the blue that made her wrong, in everyone's eyes, until two o'clock. Her hands, she notices, are not quite steady on the radio.

Yang dirasakan Regina bukan kemenangan. Seandainya langit kelabu, tak seorang pun akan mempertanyakannya; birulah yang membuatnya salah, di mata semua orang, sampai pukul dua. Tangannya, ia sadari, tidak sepenuhnya mantap di radio.

The manager arrives at the hut without knocking and stands for a while, looking at the slope and then at her. He does not apologise, and she does not expect him to. Behind him, the man in the yellow jacket is standing very still in the doorway, his goggles pushed up on his forehead.

Sang manajer tiba di pondok tanpa mengetuk dan berdiri sejenak, menatap lereng itu lalu menatapnya. Dia tidak meminta maaf, dan Regina tidak mengharapkannya. Di belakangnya, pria berjaket kuning itu berdiri diam sekali di ambang pintu, kacamata ski-nya terdorong ke dahi.

"Tomorrow," the manager says at last. "Will it be the same?"

"Besok," kata sang manajer akhirnya. "Apakah akan sama?"

"Not until the layer settles," Regina says, "and I can't tell you when that will be."

"Tidak sampai lapisan itu mengendap," kata Regina, "dan saya tidak bisa memberi tahu Anda kapan itu terjadi."

She pulls the keyboard toward her, types tomorrow's date at the top of a blank bulletin, and begins with the same word she used today.

Ia menarik papan ketik mendekat, mengetik tanggal besok di bagian atas buletin kosong, dan memulainya dengan kata yang sama seperti yang ia pakai hari ini.