How finding mountain sports forever changed my life.
As cliche it sounds, if you find one day that the mountains are calling to you - you should probably listen and go.
I didn’t grow up anywhere remotely close to mountains, as the Gulf Coast of Florida is actually quite the total opposite and the only rise in elevation I ever really saw was in the sand dunes on the beach. During my childhood and early adult life, my experience with mountains was limited to a few trips to North Carolina’s smoky mountains and two ski trips to Colorado, and I despised the skiing.
But somewhere along in the journey of becoming my own individual person, I began to dream of the rugged Rocky Mountains of the West. I can’t tell you exactly why I felt this call, but it manifested in secret Pinterest boards where I began to visually piece together what I was envisioning. I watched the Orvis and Yeti films of people living the most interesting lives, and studied the maps of mountain ranges. In college at art school I reviewed the work of photographer Clyde Butcher - his National Park series fed to my motivations, and the craving I felt for a place that was wild, rugged and free from the constraints of a cramped population density was no longer something I could ignore.
When I landed in Montana after graduating from college, I had no expectations other than to appreciate the landscapes with my camera and learn about the wildlife. I had always loved watching wildlife so the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem felt like the premiere location to get acquainted with my new environment. I moved to Montana with the mindset that I will try anything once. And that mindset led me to do things that I never knew were even possible.
My exposure to the mountain sports world was the absolute bare minimum before moving to Montana. I didn’t grow up watching the X games or Winter Olympics, and I vaguely remember watching a few minutes of Redbull athletes riding down spines in Alaska on a TV in a restaurant in Colorado. I had been big into outdoor sports in Florida, and being in the water felt as natural to me as riding a bike - but never did I ever consider myself a ‘sports’ person. I preferred art, and I had always been content with that.
The first friends I made in Bozeman were quick to change that - happily dragging me to Big Sky to ski, camping and climbing in the spring, whitewater kayaking and backpacking in the summer. The more I was shown, the more my idea of the world opened up beyond what I could comprehend. I learned the lingo, the gear, the lifestyle. I saw sunsets and sunrises in the mountains that blew my mind, I discovered a deep appreciation for the kind of silence that only the mountains can offer you, and the extreme weather that can blow up in a matter of minutes. My hands became calloused and the sunburns were some of the worst I have ever experienced, but I had grown deeply intrigued with this new way of life.
The seasons came and went and I found the rhythm of the mountain people to be refreshing from what I had experienced for all my life before. Life revolved around the seasons and the weather, and the environment was dynamic and ever-changing. A level of awareness and alertness was required in the mountains that I had never been in touch with before. My senses became acutely tuned to the smells and the sounds of the forests, meadows and ridges. I became addicted to learning new skills, enrolling in in winter weather forecasting and avalanche safety courses, pushing myself beyond what I ever dreamed I was capable of doing. Resort skiing turned into uphill ski touring, rock climbing on top rope became lead climbing, and I spent more nights sleeping out under the stars than in my bed in my apartment. My friends were my adventure partners, and we developed levels of trust and reliance on each other that I had never known in friendships prior. With each adventure my eyes opened up to the world through the lens of a mountain athlete - but by far I loved the leading of the unconventional lifestyles the most.
As the years went on the societal norms and concept of conformity that I grew up surrounded by slid further away from my consciousness. On social media I watched old friends move back to their hometowns, buy homes with their spouses, and start having kids. But here, most of my friends were unmarried, working jobs to maintain their lifestyles and chasing a life centered around the mountains. The change of pace was wildly refreshing and it felt like people were living to actually live. I felt closer to my dreams and more in touch with who I was more than ever before. Together with my partner, we built goals based on chasing objectives in our sports, and experiencing the world in its rawest form. Because of this I’ve found myself awestruck over and over again in the remote mountains of Canada, Montana, Wyoming, Idaho and the Alps. Our experiences have led me to become a better communicator, to know how to dig deep when confidence is required, and to be able to identify the difference between what is a perceived danger and what is an actual danger. The years in the mountains have broken down the layers of who I was and built up who I am now - with the kind of grit, headspace, control and calmness that only time spent in the mountains can give you. Navigating avalanche terrain and rappelling down frozen waterfalls is a life I had never previously ever imagined for myself, but it’s one I am eternally grateful to have, and now cannot envision a life without. Whether it was meant to be all along, or maybe truly is the power of being open-minded - either way, there is no other path that I would want to be on than the one that the mountains have paved for me.
