Meet the Zealots Who Never Stop Skiing

“It’s too late to stop now,” quips Mitch Pittman, when asked why he was scouring over maps at 11 p.m. on a midsummer weeknight in his small Seattle garage. “116 months straight and counting. Almost 10 years! I really love skiing even though I’m not the best skier. I absolutely love the feeling.”

This sentiment nicely summarizes the underlying message of Turns All Year (TAY), an informal group of diehard skiers dedicated to never storing their equipment. TAY has members spread all across the country, but the core contingent is located mainly in the Pacific Northwest, Colorado, and Montana. Being part of the group is a never-ending challenge—there’s no end goal, award, or finish line—and for most, it’s a pursuit of fun, not suffering. “Summer skiing gets you to unique places with adventurous people,” says Pittman. “It’s an excuse to explore. I would have never gone to Mount Pugh last August otherwise.”

While skiers are, generally speaking, a fanatical bunch, the TAY community takes this to a different level, often hiking miles during summer months for a few precious turns. While that may sound intense, their culture is anything but. It is skiing at its purest. A love of all turns, good, bad, or otherwise.

A Quick Background

Being a member of Turns All Years has only one requirement: You need to ski at least once each month, year-round. “You can even make your own rules as to what counts as skiing,” laughs Pittman, who says some members ski just a couple turns on a small patch of snow, while most aim for more. “I try to lose myself in the skiing. Forget everything else, just for a little bit. It’s about dedication, not strict rules.”

A few months away from completing his 25th year, Jason Hummel, describes TAY as a commitment to get outside—an excuse to ski more. “These days my minimum is 1,000 feet each month, but there isn’t a hard-and-fast rule,” says the Tacoma, Wash., native. For his first decade, he would ski upwards of 5,000 feet each month, sometimes lapping runs if necessary.”

Many members acknowledge that it’s a superfluous effort by design. “It’s a silly pursuit to slide downhill every month, which creates a great group of people.” says Nikki Brown, who lives in North Bend, Wash., “rules adapt over time, with your life. Mine are different from my husband’s, but our goal is the same—just to ski more.”

As evidenced by the trip reports on the TAY website, a majority of members live in Washington state, likely due to the year-round access to glaciers at high elevations. Brown says that both Mt. Rainier and Mt. Hood are great backup options if bigger plans fall through, offering skiing through the summer. However, Brown primarily uses TAY as a reason to explore further into the North Cascades and Olympics. Hummel is similar, gaining notoriety in the group for chasing remote lines, and claiming that, “it’s sometimes hard to find partners these days, for the big ones.”

Unlike many corners of the internet, TAY cares little for self-promotion or external validation. If it did, the website wouldn’t look like it was created in 1995 and you probably would have heard about them already. These old schoolers only care about the basics: community, exploration, and the soul of skiing.

The Core Community

It’s hard to know the exact size of TAY, because no one keeps an official roster and the exact number changes often, with injuries or life events. The TAY Facebook group has over 7,600 members, but most are not active participants. “There’s a core group of folks who post a lot, but it’s hard to know how many more get out each month,” says Pittman, who estimates a couple thousand active members in the United States.

Hummel agrees with this estimate, saying “not everyone talks about it on social media. Most of us just want to ski.” He believes the group is growing, measured by encounters in the backcountry. “Most summer days on Rainier you see at least a few TAY people. I run into more every time, which is fun.”

“There are a lot of Turners-Almost-All-Year people, but much fewer TAY-ers,” says Brown. “The core community is supportive, especially in person. I met a couple of my closest girlfriends through it.”

The core group creates most of the online conversation, while a larger group joins in person. “The last day of each month at specific, popular places, you’ll be high-fiving all day,” says Pittman, who also has met many of his close friends this way. “It’s a similar outlook on life and sense of adventure.”

Navigating Summer—and Climate Change

All three admitted to some epic summer days in search of snow. “It doesn’t happen as often as you think, at least if you do your homework,” Pittman says, “but we’ve all had a few brutal ones, like pouring rain on Rainier and scraping ice on Baker. But, if I’m smiling, it’s still skiing.” Pittman says his favorite part is branching out and finding new places. “August is probably the hardest month to find good snow, but the key is to find fun in the ridiculousness of the chase.”

For his first five years, Pittman had a rule to get 1,000 feet each month. Once this meant he lapped a tiny patch dozen or more times. Today he’s less concerned with the vert, saying that it’s more about the process. “TAY has gotten harder. I’ve watched snowfields, like Ptarmigan Ridge, almost disappear in my tenure. You now have to walk further to find patches. It’s definitely eye opening to see.”

Hummel agrees, saying it was easy when he started, but has progressively gotten more challenging to find good snow. “It’s sobering to see all these patches disappear. I set a goal of 50 years and I still hope to make it.” He says injuries often play a big role in streaks being broken. “The closest I came to missing a month was a dirt bike accident, but I managed to hobble up Rainier to get a few turns that month.”

Brown recently watched a friend with a 10-year streak lapse due to injury. “Sometimes it’s impossible to avoid. Just unlucky. I once scheduled surgery for a torn labrum around TAY, skiing the first weekend of the month, going under the next week, giving me time to recover for the next month.”

Keeping The Fire

Brown’s motivation comes from the adventure that each outing brings. “You’re never totally sure if the snow patch is still there or what the quality is.” The 2021 heatwave was especially tricky, forcing her to extremes. “On August 1, we found a patch of snow on Snoqualmie Pass after 2,700 feet of hiking. We must have passed 200 hikers to get there, all of whom wanted to know what we were doing.”

Hummel says TAY is a great way for him to stay healthy, ”It’s like momentum. Skiing every month keeps me in good shape, keeps me outside.” All three emphasized how TAY has remained fun over the years. “It’s never a chore. If it becomes that then I’ll stop, but right now it’s great everytime we go out,” says Pittman. “You just have to expect some months to be comically bad, but it’s still absolutely worth it.”

Brown’s best advice for others is to take it one month at a time and know that conditions can change fast. A challenging August doesn’t mean that September will also be bad. Hummel advises new members to go to new places, so that they don’t get bored of the local haunts. “It can be as simple as the backside of the mountain where no one skis. It makes the route entirely new.”

Lessons For All

For Pittman, TAY is about keeping a promise to himself. “When I started, I didn’t imagine it would be 10 years. You just do one month at a time.” Brown likes to find levity in the process.  “No one cares how fast or how far you go, just that you go. It’s a silly quest. No one has to do it, so make sure to make it fun. It isn’t for everyone, and that’s okay. It’s a group for those who like a little adventure along the way.”