The Denver Post

Brrringing back the cold to the Games After two balmy Olympics, freezing is guaranteed in mountainou­s Pyeongchan­g

- By Foster Klug

The cold is back for the Winter Games.

After two straight balmy Olympics where some might have wondered whether it was even winter, let alone the world’s pre-eminent freeze-dependent sporting event, athletes and visitors alike will finally experience a serious chill in their bones during South Korea’s Games in mountainou­s Pyeongchan­g.

How cold is it?

So cold that tears spring to the eyes. So cold that the ink in a pen grows sluggish and fades as it scribbles over a page. So cold that South Korean men sometimes flash back to being posted for hours on the frozen frontline during mandatory military service. So cold that at least six people were treated for hypothermi­a last month after a pop concert at the open-air Olympic Stadium.

“We all hope it will be better in February, but if it’s like it is now, there will be big trouble. It’s just too cold for outsiders,” said Choi Jong-sik, 64, smirking in his short-sleeve shirt as a visiting reporter removes layer after layer of thick outerwear for an interview at Choi’s Pyeongchan­g restaurant.

Vancouver and Sochi, where ski jumpers were landing in puddles, received complaints for being too warm, as might Beijing in 2022, but the weather in Pyeongchan­g will likely dazzle spectators, and confound organizers and athletes, in its bitterness.

Pyeongchan­g sits nearly half a mile above sea level in the northeaste­rn corner of South Korea, not too far from the border with North Korea. It is one of the coldest parts of South Korea — wind chill in February is often in single digits (Fahrenheit) — and notorious for a powerful, biting wind that gathers force as it barrels down out of Siberia and the Manchurian Plain and then across the jagged granite peaks of North Korea.

It can be hard to get people here to talk about, or even acknowledg­e, the cold. It is simply a fact of life, and stoicism is often the rule when confronted with outsiders’ weather-related questions.

“The only thing foreigners can do is the same thing locals do: Bundle up,” said Nam Sun-woo, 60, a fishmonger in Pyeongchan­g. “Not many outsiders understand how cold it gets here. It’s not like where they’re from. This kind of cold is completely different.”

The weather will be on display, and maybe a major nuisance, at the Pyeongchan­g Olympic Stadium in Hoenggye village. The much-criticized, open-air and pentagonsh­aped arena, which cost $107 million and has 35,000 seats, will be used only four times — during the opening and closing ceremonies of the Olympics and Paralympic­s — and then torn down.

On a recent blustery day, from the top of a nearby 17-story building, the white angular stadium looks a little like a giant discarded Lego piece. It rises isolated on a wide, flat plain, muscular mountains cascading down behind it. It looks vulnerable and exposed — all those thousands of orange and pink seats laid bare below the wide dome of sky — but also slightly magical as the sun glitters off millions of tiny ice flakes blowing across the plain.

The wind is brutal, and it pounds the entire area, including the stadium and the rooftop, where the gusts rattling through the big AC units sound like a doomed bomber plummeting out of the sky in an old war movie.

Despite the cold, organizers have done little to protect stadium visitors. Spectators will have to sit exposed for as long as five hours in the elements during the nighttime ceremonies. There are no built-in heating systems for the seats and the corridors, and it’s too late to build a roof and too expensive to install central heat, officials say.

Many of the concertgoe­rs last month where six were treated for hypothermi­a reportedly flocked to the arena’s toilets for a rare bit of respite from the cold.

Organizers plan to provide each spectator at the Olympic ceremonies with a raincoat, a small blanket and heating pads — one to sit on, one for the hands and a pair for the feet. They also plan to install polycarbon­ate walls above the highest seats across the two northwest sides of the stadium to block the strongest winds. About 40 portable gas heaters will be placed in aisles between the rows of plastic seats, and lots of hot coffee and tea, fish sticks and heated buns will be on sale.

Still, by the time the opening ceremony starts at around 8 p.m., the wind chill at the stadium could be a frigid 7 degrees.

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