When T and William pulled up to the Boulder Shop after a long flight from Oslo, JC and Alex had been looking over weather forecasts for the past few hours. Jackson Hole, Sun Valley, Lake Tahoe, Taos… they had all seen good snowfall. In fact, what was predicted to be a mediocre season was shaping up nicely. But, we were looking for a combination of new snow and sun. We had just received samples of our new Peak Cotton ski kit and were eager to put it to the test…. Jackson looked promising. There was a storm moving in that would hit the west side of the Tetons, and if we moved fast enough, we could just catch it. And if we were lucky, the western sky would push through the storm clouds and light up the Tetons like a snow globe. The RV would need to be packed with skis, sleds, and sweaters quickly…
With each adventure we set out on, there is a blind sort of optimism: a faith in spontaneity, curiosity, and the spirit of adventure. No overarching theme drawn out on a pitch deck with strict story lines and shot lists. We know the direction we’re going, but not the destination. A philosophy of returning to basic childlike wonder to explore without rhyme or reason. But here we were torn on which way to go. The decision fatigue of evaluating driving time, weather, and the fact that T and William had a flight scheduled back to Norway in ten days out of Denver… We made an impromptu decision in pursuit of somewhere certain to have sunshine: Lake Tahoe.
Any adventure cross-country requires the proper adventure vehicle. Room for skis, sleds, food, cameras, and four beds to rest our heads. Not too flashy as to stand out at campsites, but comfortable enough to come back after a long tour and get some good rest. This is where the beautiful 30’ “Cruise America” Recreational Vehicle came into our lives. An upgrade from our usual 25’ “standard” edition, this bigger, badder, beautiful vehicle, powered by a Ford V-10 Chassis Engine with dual rear tires and a full kitchen, would be more than proper for our drive west.
A quick breakfast at the Village Café in Boulder and we were on the road heading west. After a quick pit stop in Aspen to meet with our friends at Performance Ski and get a few turns in with ski legend Kjell Vanhagen (a story for another time), we found ourselves in Utah kicking soccer balls around the Salt Flats… still far from our sunshine-filled skiing dream. We set up camp that night in California and pulled out our oversized projector to watch old ski movies in the dark, reminiscing on how unfiltered and “real” these movies used to be. The song “Blue Monday” by New Order and scenes of a young Jon Olson would be stuck in our heads for the rest of the trip…
By sunrise, we were gunning it for Palisades Tahoe. We had been behind the wheel for a few days and were eager to get moving. It was a Wednesday, and the resort was empty… our playground for the next eight hours.
Unlike Colorado, Tahoe’s topography was scattered with large rock formations and giant pine trees that thrive off the moisture and comparatively lower elevation. These natural features created ample opportunity for creative skiing as we slid down chutes and between rock walls, marveling at the grand scale of the mountain and the difference in snow texture compared to the Rocky Mountains.
With our legs now warmed up by a day at the resort, we ventured into the Tahoe backcountry. We headed south towards Jake’s Peak, where friends had said we might find good snow and good views of the lake. It was also a perfect opportunity to field-test our Peak Cotton ski suits — to see how they moved when skinning, how they breathed when we got too hot, and how the organic cotton and micro-spun membrane worked together in the field. It had been a dream of ours to create a natural product that didn’t rely on heavy plastics and PFAS treatments and could hold up to the demanding tasks of life in the backcountry. There was something intriguing and freeing about using something that was of nature, in nature… almost as if there was one less barrier to connecting with our surroundings. We followed the valley as far up as we could and then continued through the moss-covered trees to the summit. We ate lunch on a rock overlooking Lake Tahoe. The basic fact that food is and always will taste better outdoors did not escape us as we devoured our sandwiches. Bellies full, we set our sights on possible lines down. Hooting and hollering through the woods, we bounced down the mountain, catching glimpses of each other between the trees.
For the next few days, we explored the surrounding area. Setting up camps and switching between alpine and Nordic skis to challenge ourselves on different terrain—laughing about past adventures and dreaming up new ones. No big lessons were learned. No life-changing revelations on how to pursue a free-air-life. And as good as our RV treated us, no intention to move into one full-time. Just the simple affirmation to return to basics — good friends, good snow, some sunshine, and the spontaneity to pursue our own curiosity.
