Warm summer sun,
Shine kindly here,
Warm southern wind,
Blow softly here.
Green sod above,
Lie light, lie light.
Good night, dear heart,
Good night, good night.
– Mark Twain, Warm Summer Sun
Alarm clock at 7, skiing by 9. It’s a schedule any Utah skier, visitor or resident, knows well.
Today is a bit different. Today my phone alarm sounds at 7pm, just as I’m finishing up my evening bike ride. It’s time to go skiing at 9pm.
Today is the summer solstice.
In Utah, our summer solstice features 15 hours of daylight, nearly six hours of additional light compared to its winter counterpart in December, the shortest day of the year. And we’re a sunny place to begin with. Salt Lake City enjoys an average of 222 sunny days each year, a perfect complement to The Greatest Snow on Earth®. What could be better?
Each solstice season, I make a point to pair my love for skiing with my deep appreciation for the awe-inspiring rhythms of the natural world. In December, this is relatively easy, when almost without fail, Utah’s 15 ski resorts are open and the lifts are spinning.
Skiing on the summer solstice, on the other hand, is kind of silly. It’s the kind of thing you can do when you live in Utah – the center of the ski universe, where the mountains are magnets to atmospheric rivers, a marvelous lake effect and plentiful snow, often followed by the most wide-open blue skies you’ve ever seen. This year, the altitude and snowfall have once again conspired to make my heart as full as the run I plan to ski: Alta's Main Chute.
The word “solstice” comes from the Latin words “sol” (sun) and “stitium” (still or stopped). Ancient cultures caught on to the fact that the sun changed from northward to southern trajectory each year, and associated the solstice with magic and mysticism. “Midsummer was seen as a time when the normal laws of nature or divinity could be suspended,” says Ronald Hutton, a professor and historian of folklore, “a time when humans could exceed the usual limitations of their world.”
I’ll have to agree with him. It is 90 degrees in Salt Lake Valley, and I’m headed up Little Cottonwood Canyon with my skis.
As I begin my shuffle up Alta’s Collins Gulch, I take time to reflect on the ski seasons behind and in front of me. Until this point, each sunset has been later than the day prior, through a season of more than one hundred days on skis. Deep powder days with friends, countless hours with Wasatch Adaptive Sports working with folks with disabilities on the slopes, visits to three new Utah ski resorts, and skiing with my parents for the first time in more than fifteen years come to mind among a cascade of highlights. I have skiing, specifically in Utah, to thank for so many good things in my personal life and career. It’s a magical place indeed.
I work my way to the top of the Wildcat Lift, past Baldy Shoulder, and begin my bootpack to the summit of Mt. Baldy, 11,068 elevation, and still holding snow into late June. A contingent of fellow solstice skiers has begun to emerge, making our pilgrimage to the top of Alta.
On the summit, the orange sun hangs motionless above the jagged pinnacle of Mt. Superior to the north. Salt Lake Valley below is bathed in light at its latest moment of the year: 9:01 p.m. A hush comes over the group of friends and strangers who have joined me to watch summer’s peak come and go.
The sun dips below the horizon, and slowly, one by one, we drop into the chute, sharing laughs, hollers, and words of encouragement. Each day from now through late December will shorten, marking the subtle and methodical approach of winter. A new ski season awaits – surely filled with the delights, lessons, and surprises that the snow brings to this incredible place. From here on out, it’ll be bikes, hikes, climbs, rivers and reservoirs for me – and in Utah, we have those in droves.
As I store my skis away in their symbolic summer home to revisit in the fall, I feel the fire for skiing in Utah burning as brightly as ever, even on a hot summer night – and you don’t have to ski the solstice to experience the warmth that skiing brings. Don’t wait – visit us and experience these mountains for yourself. Be a steward skier for this place – help us to continue to build a sustainable hub for winter sports in the Beehive State.
Until then – here’s to all the skiing we’ve done, and take solace in all the skiing yet to come.
