Columnist Susan Snyder: Taking a spin with a mighty wind

Tuesday, April 20, 2004 | 8:29 a.m.

Southern Nevada's biggest lie has nothing to do with loose slots.

It's wind. Spring wind. Wind that tosses lawn furniture into the swimming pool and wraps plastic grocery bags from God knows where around shrubbery along Interstate 15 as if it's part of the landscaping plan.

Wind that holds its hand against the forehead of a walker, runner or bicycle rider like a playground bully and will not let up. A trip to the office coffee pot Monday morning hurt me because of such a wind.

Oh sure, it was grand as a group of us pedaled our bikes 25 miles out Las Vegas Boulevard on Sunday to a point just past the Apex exit of Interstate 15. The sun shone overhead. The wind was at our backs.

Then we turned around. A stationary bicycle would have felt faster.

How long did you live in Las Vegas before you realized that when the weather guy said it was going to be "breezy" it meant it was not safe -- or at least decent -- to walk the dog in a skirt that day?

"Breezy is a relative term," said Ernie Cobb, a meteorologist for the National Weather Service office in Las Vegas.

This is the same philosophy that makes "cold" a relative term in Alaska. Cobb said around here "breezy" applies until the gusts blow about 25 mph.

Don't know about you, but I figure when air travels faster than you're allowed to drive in a school zone, that's "wind." But Cobb's the expert. I am but a woman trying to keep bird feeders on their posts and out of the neighbor's yard.

Spring typically brings the valley's highest winds, Cobb said, because that is when the high- and low-pressure systems rapidly move across the valley from different directions. They clash like a couple of politicians in an ethics debate.

However, the wind's jaws flap faster (if that's possible).

The tighter the pressure created between the opposing fronts, the higher the wind speed, Cobb said. And we are in a valley, which funnels wind like grain through a goose.

Allergy sufferers know this means pollen and dust are driven into the old sinus cavities with a vengeance.

For community groups staffing information tents at the inevitable barrage of spring fairs and festivals, it means duct tape.

Tents, banners, pamphlets, information boards, small children -- anything that is to remain on or in the booth must be lashed to something driven into the ground or it will end up in Lincoln County.

During an Earth Day festival a couple of years ago, another volunteer and I taped every information board and diagram to the legs of our pop-up tent awning. The rest we weighted down with rocks on the table.

It was quite the spectacle when the wind tossed the entire display -- tent and all -- across the park like a tumbleweed. Our information pamphlets provided a valuable teaching moment regarding litter cleanup.

Cobb assures me that the Las Vegas Valley is not the windiest spot on the planet. The prairie is worse, with its tornados, he said. And this has been a longer-than-usual season for wind.

"It should be easing up by the end of the month," he said.

But don't hang those wind chimes just yet.

Wait until we see whether "easing up" is also a relative term.

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