Column: No snow spells trouble for Utah

Along the stretch of highway between Ogden and Brigham City exists a billboard advertising the Cache Valley Visitors Bureau. Its slogan tells drivers to “Explore Logan — Always a Few Degrees Cooler.” 

Anyone in the valley this winter can attest otherwise. Temperatures in December were shockingly warm, peaking at 67 degrees Fahrenheit on Dec. 22, a high generally not seen until May. January followed suit, with daily averages still well above normal.  

With just four days of snow since Dec. 1, Logan sits alongside the rest of Utah in smashing records throughout a winter that is among the state’s warmest and driest ever recorded. 

Casey Olson, a third-year PhD student and data analyst with the Utah Climate Center, said outlooks for the remainder of winter are unclear. They might skew towards heavy precipitation throughout February and March, similar to last year, or could trend clearer and drier, like the winter of 2021-22. 

“I would say it’s not time to panic yet but definitely raising eyebrows for sure,” Olson said. “If we don’t see an improvement in the precipitation rates … we’ll see a drying of the landscape, so an increase in wildfire risk for the summer months and of course, more stress on the water resources.” 

While a single month of paltry snowfall may seem insignificant, the long-term effects have already begun to show in the areas that depend on it most, like snow sports. 

Last winter, locals skiing and snowboarding across Utah’s 15 resorts generated more than $2.5 billion. Although considered a cornerstone of Utah’s tourism industry, many such resorts are beginning to struggle, according to Aidan Cone, a junior in landscape architecture and officer for Utah State University’s Snow Club. 

“It has been very rough,” Cone said. “Beaver didn’t open until [Dec.] 31 … they’ve always been open for Christmas Eve, and this was the first time they haven’t been.” 

Cone expressed frustration at his lack of ability to utilize his season passes to Beaver Mountain Ski Resort and Deer Valley Resort, as their slopes have also been barren. 

“I have not gotten as much use out of either of them as I would’ve hoped. I ski about 80 to 90 days a year and predict to be far behind that this year. There’s not much to look forward to,” Cone said. 

Despite the difficulties the warm weather has caused, USU Snow Club has adjusted accordingly, hosting a Wax Night to prepare for the snow that fell on Jan. 8 despite Cone’s long-term concerns for the industry at large. 

“‘23 and ‘24 was not a good season for Europe, and there were resorts in France and Switzerland that closed permanently because they couldn’t afford to miss a season,” Cone said. “It could really have some drastic effects on Utah’s tourism.” 

The average temperature in Utah has gone up 1.38 degrees Celsius since 1900, rising at twice the global average since 1960. The past two decades have been the Southwest’s driest in over 1,200 years, sending the entire state into drought conditions. To put it simply, things are getting increasingly worse. 

In an interview with The Utah Statesman, Patrick Belmont, a professor of hydrology and geomorphology in USU’s Department of Watershed Sciences and upcoming Utah Legislature candidate, said society in Utah has two options: immediate change or potential collapse. 

“The snowpack has been diminishing for decades, but it’s accelerating now, and on top of our snow decreasing due to the temperature, we’re getting a lot more dust in the winter now,” Belmont said. “These types of impacts just cascade through not just human systems but wildlife, who are at the whim of what the weather chooses to do in any given year.” 

Dust from the exposed beds of the Great Salt Lake absorbs heat from the sun, melting snow even faster and worsening air qualities. In 2000, the lake was roughly 80% full, but as of last December, it has plummeted to just 34.8%. Agricultural water misuse is by far the main contributor to the lake’s decline. 

“We’re using about 70% of the water in the Great Salt Lake watershed right now to grow alfalfa,” Belmont said. “About half of that alfalfa has historically stayed in Utah — half has gone outside the state, and half of that has gone outside the country, much of it to China.” 

Among a suite of much-needed changes like transitioning to renewables and replacing turf lawns, Belmont argues Utahns — and the world at large — need to sharply cut down on meat production. 

“You lose 90% of the calories when you feed vegetation to cattle,” Belmont said. “We could be growing the same number of calories with a tenth the amount of agriculture.” 

He cited controversiality and cultural attitudes — especially surrounding the ways we eat, move and build — as major roadblocks to climatic progress. 

“People like to eat beef, and I understand why,” Belmont said. “At the same time, it’s always a trade-off, and we have to keep asking ourselves, ‘Are these the trade-offs that we want to be making?’” 

Though there is very little room to enact the best-case scenario, there is still hope to be found. As individuals, we have not just a choice but a responsibility to act with the future in mind. This means buying items less and prioritizing used goods, bolstering community safety nets and greening our homes, lawns and methods of transport. 

As a collective, we must push for immediate and widespread action. This means calling and writing politicians at every available opportunity and fundamentally reconstructing our societies. Reaching net zero by 2050 will be a strenuous, uncomfortable task, but with every second of inaction, emissions slip just a little bit higher. 

Most critically, we must continue to care because every fraction of a degree counts. With the policies currently in place, we are on track for a change of +3.2 degrees Celsius, far above safe thresholds. Whether or not that number goes down will depend on every single one of us.