Nathan Rafferty

by John Blodgett

Nathan Rafferty is the envy of powderhounds everywhere. “I hit the job lottery,” says Ski Utah’s president.

Rafferty has always worked in the ski industry. After graduating from the University of Arizona — where he organized ski trips for fraternities and sororities — he spent the summer of 1994 as an intern for Ski Utah. In subsequent years he “bounced back and forth” between Ski Utah and Park City Mountain Resort, where he worked in sales and marketing. He spent seven years as Ski Utah’s director of communications before replacing Kip Pitou as president in November 2005.

Rafferty prefers to keep a low profile on the slopes when not hosting journalists, industry types and businesspeople. “I love just being a tourist at these places,” he says, referring to himself as “just another powder skier” instead of the president of Ski Utah.

The perks of working for Ski Utah can’t be beat, and not just for Rafferty. The entire staff gears up thanks to sponsorships from ski, clothing and assorted gear manufacturers, and each staffer snags a silver pass accepted at any resort in the state.

Then, of course, there is the job description. Rafferty averages 50 to 60 ski days a year. “My car is a locker, always ready to roll,” he says.

Other staffers have it good, too — scheduling always allows for the celebration of fresh powder. “If people are ever late for work, it’s because they were up at 5 a.m. to do a dawn patrol,” says Rafferty.

Lest anyone think his job is all play and no work, Rafferty is quick to point out that he typically spends but one weekday on the slopes, and then only for 90 minutes or so. Much of the rest of his time is spent at the computer or in one meeting or another.

Naturally, people often ask Rafferty what ski area he likes best. “I know it sounds canned,” he admits, “but the variety [in Utah] is what makes it so cool. I have a handful of faves, but they change.” He does readily admit a fondness for — some might be surprised to hear — Beaver Mountain (“There’s awesome skiing off the backside,” he explains), and has a penchant for Alf’s High Rustler at Alta. Most of the time, though, he doesn’t know the name of whatever run he happens to be skiing: he’s apt to refer to “that run by the rock past the dead tree.”

No matter what mountain, at the bottom where the trail levels out, it all comes down to one thing. “Any run with good deep powder is tough to beat,” he says.