The snow in Utah is famous, but in a climate-changed era of warmer winters, for how much longer? Derek Cheng puts pole to powder to find out.
Floating weightlessly through pillow-like clouds of fluffy, armpit-deep snow is why a multitude of snow-junkies from around the world travel to Utahevery winter.
“The Greatest Snow on Earth” is the trademarked slogan for the snow that settles in the Wasatch Range bordering Salt Lake City (SLC), USA, home to nearly a dozen ski resorts.
There’s even science behind it. Storms from the north or northwest become increasingly drier by the time they reach this desert-like landscape from the coast.
As they dump in the Wasatch, this means heavier snowfall in the beginning, and lighter fluff towards the end, with an average of more than 12m of snow per year.
But weather is fickle and snow, as a subset of weather, is prone to the fickle-down effect.
The 2025-26 winter season in Salt Lake City, Utah, was the warmest on record, with the lowest snowfall on record. Use of artificial snow created ribbons of white on otherwise bare hillsides. Photo / Derek Cheng
Our team of journalists lands in SLC in the middle of the lowest snowfall since winter records began in 1980, as well as the warmest-ever season (December through February), averaging 4C higher than the previous record.
Despite record snowfall three winters prior, skiing is increasingly on borrowed time.
There’s no escaping this global trend. Recent winters have hardly been snow-abundant in my local areas – Wānaka and Queenstown – while Nordic skiing races across Europe are increasingly run on man-made snow.
The unanswerable question is whether the low snow season is an outlier, or the climate-changed new normal.
The industry has long adapted to this volatility, offering heavily discounted, all-conquering passes – enabling access to resorts in both Utah and New Zealand – which provide cashflow long before the incoming winter’s weather dice is rolled.
The other unanswerable, if you’ve purchased such a pass, is whether the thrill of the powder-hunt is worth the trip, as opposed to the powder itself, which may or may not be in abundance.
Mt Superior (centre right) is one of the jewels in the Wasatch Range, home to dozens of ski resorts and countless backcountry skiing options. Photo / Derek Cheng
A taste of white gold
Mother Nature is smiling on us. A metre of snow fell in the Wasatch in the days before our week-long sampling of local ski resorts.
Who knows what we would’ve otherwise done at Powder Mountain, our first stop and an hour’s drive north of SLC, where there remains an unflinching belief in Mother Nature: no artificial snow-making.
This is the anti-resort (small crowds, natural snow, no enormous ski-in/ski-out hotels at the base), but this is being challenged under a new owner and his controversial plans. Billionaire and Netflix co-founder Reed Hastings bought Pow Mow, as it’s known, in 2023, and is privatising about half of it.
This has maddened many, for whom the hundreds of US$2 million ($3.54m) lots are out of reach (financially or ideologically) for the privilege of using private lifts to access the private playground.
A snowstorm hits Powder Mountain in Utah, which continues to have faith in Mother Nature by shunning artificial snow-making and relying on natural snowfall. Photo / Derek Cheng
Locals are also gladdened, however, by the infrastructure that the privatisation is funding. New lifts on the public side, as well as upgraded ones, are enlarging what’s accessible (more than three times the size of Cardrona or Whakapapa, in total).
They don’t seem mad enough, yet, to abandon Pow Mow. The number of season pass holders is rising, helped by Hastings, who lifted the cap on how many could be sold.
The good timing for Pow Mow, following the recent storm, is that there’s even enough snow to wander off-piste and try our hand at weaving between aspen trees.
Most ski resorts have lifts that carry you higher on a single mountainside. Pow Mow is blessed with many mountain spines that ripple across the terrain, giving the effect of many mini-mountains – and all the different aspects that entails – within one.
The bad luck is that a rare wet storm is coming through. For our second day, this turns everything but the freshly-groomed into the snow-equivalent of quicksand.
Our guide, Nico, remarks that he’s never experienced such conditions in his near-decade at the resort.
Some of the long and fun groomers at Park City Mountain, which this season was increasingly reliant on artificial snow, as the surrounding snowless hillsides can attest to. Photo / Derek Cheng
White ribbons adorn dirt slopes
The elevation of Park City – 40 minutes’ drive east of SLC – is roughly the same as Pow Mow’s 2100m above sea level, but it’s a very different vibe.
“Extra bougie” is how the locals describe it. This is reflected in the price of the day passes - up to US$350 ($595) - at either of the city’s two resorts: Park City Mountain or Deer Valley.
Our Park City Mountain guide, Fernando, is trying to show us as much of the 3000ha of skiable terrain (about five times larger than Cardrona) as possible.
None of what he recommends is off-piste, however, as conditions are far from the powder haven we are repeatedly asked to imagine.
The man-made snow on groomers is still a joy, with long runs of varying steepness and endless carving to be had. The bluebird day offers expansive views towards distant mountain ranges.
The artificial snow at Deer Valley – infamous for the ski-crash and court battle involving Gwyneth Paltrow – is next level. There are machines and pipes pumping it across 130km of the resort, creating ribbons of white running down otherwise snow-deprived hillsides.
That’s the point of modern snow-making: providing a joyful day on the slopes when Mother Nature doesn’t show up, and the famous powder remains elusive.
Everything at Deer Valley is next level, in fact. It’s billed as a five-star hotel experience at a ski resort. There’s a free ski valet. The chairlifts are luxuriously cushioned and heated, with leg rests and windshields. All the lifts, bar one, are high-speed.
There are even freshly groomed runs at different times of the day. The “corduroy lunch” programme – opening at midday – ensures some fresh groomers are available after lunch.
Chairlifts at Deer Valley ski resort in Utah, USA, are heated and cushioned, with leg rests and windshields - regardless of whether there is much snow in the background. Photo / Derek Cheng
Backcountry weightlessness
A few days after our media trip ends, a storm dumps another metre of white gold. Having extended my trip, some local friends and I head up Millcreek Canyon, skinning higher while weaving among aspen and Douglas fir trees to the top of Gobblers Knob (3123m).
This is one of many ways into the Wasatch, and the view from the summit is vast: mountains upon mountains fold into valleys upon valleys. Below us, finally, the promised land – a foot of fresh powder.
Keenan Waeschle putting in fresh tracks on his way down from Gobbler's Knob (3123m), Wasatch Range, Utah, USA. Photo / Derek Cheng
I point my skis downhill and sink into the top layer. Powder-weakened gravity, I soon learn, doesn’t pull with the same ferocity. It takes several seconds before enough momentum starts to carry me: smooth, floaty, flowy.
This is a stark contrast to carving on groomers of man-made snow. It’s like riding on a surface of bubbles. There’s a weightlessness to it, so gentle and consistent is the ride.
The challenge is fighting the inclination to lean back. This is understandable, given the natural fear of burying my ski tips and folding into a humiliating forward-crunch.
On the northern slopes of Kessler Peak (3171m), in Big Cottonwood Canyon the following day, I concentrate on avoiding the backseat. Instead of rolling my ankles into the next carving turn, I imagine I’m bouncing side to side on cushions.
River Barry finding some famous Utah powder while descending from Gobblers Peak (3123m), Wasatch Range. Photo / Derek Cheng
My final days are in the infinite terrain of Little Cottonwood Canyon, enough to still find fresh tracks several days after countless backcountry skiers have sampled the fresh snow.
The overnight freeze is enough to preserve dry powder on the shady upper slopes, while the sun-facing aspects are warmed, by late morning, into beautiful corn.
It’s win-win. Hit the super-forgiving corn on the south-facing slopes, or drop into the north-facing soft powder.
In a week, the mercury in Salt Lake City will tickle 30C. Who knows what Mother Nature will deliver next year? And in coming years.
But for now, my elation levels are more than overflowing.
Derek Cheng is a senior journalist who started at the Herald in 2004. He has worked several stints in the press gallery team, and written travel articles from all over the world, from Africa to Asia to the Americas.
Checklist
Skiing in the Wasatch Range, near Salt Lake City, Utah
GETTING THERE
Fly from Auckland to SLC International Airport with one stopover in LAX (Los Angeles) with Air New Zealand, partnering with United Airlines on the Star Alliance for the LAX-SLC leg. Round trips are available from $2000 to $2500.
SKIING THERE
There are 11 resorts in the Wasatch Range, 10 within an hour’s drive of SLC. Day passes to those start from about US$150-$350 ($258-$600).
Multi-resort passes that include New Zealand and Utah resorts include the Ikon Pass, and the Mountain Collective. The 3 Peak Pass (Coronet Peak, The Remarkables and Mt Hutt) can also be combined with Ikon).
The Epic Pass – on sale in March/April for the following winter – is good value if you plan to ski more than five days at Park City Mountain.
ACCOMMODATION
Hyatt Place in Park City has lovely rooms, an outdoor hot pool, and a free shuttle service that takes you to within a short walk of one of Park City Mountain’s gondolas.