TRAILBLAZER: Mike Ruzek | Reading the waves to call the snow with Powder Buoy

Mike Ruzek, the Park City resident behind Powder Buoy, is featured in TownLift’s Trailblazers series, highlighting locals shaping the community. Photo: Mike Ruzek

“There are plenty of places for hard meteorology,” he said. “This is more like your grandma saying her toe hurts—it’s gonna snow. It’s folklore; it’s Stoke. Skiing should be fun, not corporate.” - Mike Ruzek, The Powder Buoy

PARK CITY, Utah — When the buoy pops, the powder is on its way.

That’s the straightforward yet unlikely logic behind Powder Buoy—a weather predictor that has gained a cult following among thousands of skiers across the West. Its creator, Mike Ruzek, chuckles at the notion that he “founded” anything. “It really started as a tool for my ski buddies and me,” he said. “We’d check the buoy, and if it looked good, we’d block off a morning, head up to Alta, and be back in the office by noon.”

A wealth manager by profession and a lifelong skier at heart, Ruzek has called Park City home since 2003. The idea for Powder Buoy dates back to 2004, when a retired engineer client named Hank Manninen moved to Hawaii. “He was watching these NOAA buoys for surf reports,” Ruzek recalled. “One day, he told me, ‘Every time I see a big swell here, two weeks later it snows back home.’ I thought he was crazy. But then I started watching too—and sure enough, there was something there.”

What began as a text chain among ski buddies evolved into a phenomenon. In 2009, a friend suggested Ruzek set up a Facebook page “so we don’t have to keep calling you.” He did, and not long after, meteorologist Jodi Saeland reached out with a mix of disbelief and admiration: “Why is everyone following this buoy instead of me?” Her article in Ski Utah gave Powder Buoy its first significant exposure.

Today, the project exists as a blend of science, folklore, and community spirit. “My best explanation is that these are low-pressure systems moving across the Pacific, passing north of Hawaii on their way here,” he explained. “When the buoy’s wave height jumps from five to fifteen feet, that energy is moving our way. About two weeks later, we feel it in the snow.”

Still, Ruzek resists turning Powder Buoy into a “serious” forecasting operation. “There are plenty of places for hard meteorology,” he said. “This is more like your grandma saying her toe hurts—it’s gonna snow. It’s folklore; it’s Stoke. Skiing should be fun, not corporate.”

That playful spirit reflects Ruzek’s deep ties to the community. A longtime resident of Park City, he has served on the Park City Community Foundation board, including time as chair and emcee for Live PC Give PC for seven years. He has spent 16 years on the finance committee of the National Ability Center, was the executive director of The Speedy Foundation, and graduated from Leadership Park City—though he jokes that “the pandemic year was a bummer.” He was active in Rotary for many years and is now a proud member of the Park City Elks Lodge. “I’m proud of those,” he said. “This community has given me everything—I just try to give a little back.”

That generosity extends to his work with the Utah Avalanche Center, which benefits from the annual Powder Buoy Pilsner fundraiser with Park City Brewing. “What they do saves lives,” he stated. “It’s an easy choice to support them.”

Ruzek’s three Labradors—Olive, Max, and Hank—frequently appear in his posts, leading to his humorous snow scale: “lab-deep,” “double-lab,” and “lab-overhead.” “It’s a nod to surf culture,” he explained. “It keeps it lighthearted. Skiing is supposed to be fun.”

He is also known for organizing one of Park City’s most legendary winter events—the Hot Dog Party, an unapologetically ‘80s ski bash that has become local lore.

As for success, Ruzek doesn’t measure it by clicks or followers. “It’s measured in joy,” he said. “It’s when someone messages me to say they just had the trip of their life—or when I meet someone in Japan or Alaska who recognizes the hat. That’s the good stuff.”

For Ruzek, Powder Buoy remains what it has always been: a reminder that everything is connected. “Surfing and skiing are really the same sport,” he said. “It’s all the same water—liquid in one place, snow in another. We’re all riding the same wave.”