Utah has the \"Greatest Snow on Earth\"

It\'s official. Utah has the \"Greatest Snow on Earth\". It says so on the car number plates so it must be true. That\'s excellent news for Deer Valley, the smartest of 11 ski resorts around Salt Lake City. After crossing the huge lake that gave the capital its name, the prevailing westerlies dump feathery snow on the Wasatch Mountains. In a semi-arid high desert, crisp powder and clear skies compete for bragging rights throughout the winter. When they coincide, as they often do, they create the greatest snow on earth. Several places in the Rockies have vied for the title of being the chic place to ski, but a profusion of five-star options shows Deer Valley wants to be a contender for the 2011-12 season. Until shortly before the Second World War, Sun Valley Idaho was home to Hollywood\'s elite - and the world\'s first chairlift. When hostilities ended, the next generation of superstars switched to Aspen for quality skiing and Victorian mining town charm. In the late 20th century, the backlash against urban congestion moved interest towards the wide western horizons in Jackson Hole and Big Sky. The focus was never on Utah, seen by some as the home to Mormon polygamist teetotallers on a global mission to convert passing strangers to the Brigham Young creed. Not that Deer Valley wasn\'t trying to catch up. While Park City, a historic silver mining town a mile down the road, turned itself into High Jinks Inc with help from Robert Redford\'s prestigious Sundance Film Festival, Deer Valley emphasised service. Fresh-faced tip seekers compete to grab your skis from your car and whisk them to the bottom of the main lift. Click in and you\'re off, tackling velvet corduroy so perfect that it seems a shame to track it out. Snowboarding? No way. It\'s forbidden and strictly policed. The demarcation line between the slopes of Deer Valley and Park City is a rope that must not be crossed by boarders - don\'t expect change anytime soon. Mellow is a term often used to describe Deer Valley\'s slopes, but this is only part of the picture. Certainly many of the trails are seductively flattering, but experts have much to gain from most skiers\' reluctance to leave them. The three main peaks, Bald, Flagstaff and Empire Canyon, have glades, bumps, chutes and bowls, with the added beauty that you have them pretty much to yourself. Except, of course, for a geezer called Stein Eriksen, a Norwegian-born giant slalom specialist who won gold at the 1952 Oslo Olympics. He still skis with icy precision, feet clamped together in the manner of his day. No one tries to copy him because, it\'s impossible for mere mortals and his technique is decades out of date. Not so the Stein Eriksen Lodge, which is currently celebrating its 30th birthday. When he decided Deer Valley was ready for five-star luxury, Eriksen toured the world\'s finest resorts with his business partner, Edgar Stern, re-visiting European hotels he\'d stayed in with his parents as a child in the 1930s. Cherrypicking shamelessly, he commissioned the interiors of a series of faux alpine chalets linked by heated walkways to the Silver Lake mid-mountain meeting point. Think roaring log fires, deep leather armchairs, Persian carpets and metres of rosemaling, a form of decorative folk art found in eastern Norway and which reminds him of his roots. Today there are 112 bedrooms, 68 suites and, of course, a newly renovated and state of the art spa. The Glitretind Restaurant may sound Norwegian, but as Eriksen\'s home cuisine is among Europe\'s most challenged, he has wisely gone with classic American fare. The ski-in, ski-out lodge is an easy stop at any time of day, but the Sunday brunch is an institution whether or not you\'re staying there. The maestro himself skis on, as clinically as ever, although with his 84th birthday next month, he\'s a little less robust than he used to be. \"It is a campaign that should be maintained so long as human rights abuses continue,\" Pillay said.