None of Marcus Samuelssonā€™s childhood memories took place inside. Growing up in Gothenberg, Sweden, the acclaimed chef, who was born in Ethiopia, spent much of his time on the water fishing or in the forests foraging for mushrooms or lingonberries. His uncles, professional fishermen, would take him with them for their daily catch. Surrounded by a vibrant food culture, Samuelsson apprenticed in kitchens in Switzerland, Austria, and France before moving to New York City in the 1990s. He channeled his love of soccer into long runs through Central Park and beyond, exploring the culinary mecca mostly on foot. He ran and in-line skated his way through Manhattan, first as an apprentice at Aquavit, a Scandinavian restaurant in Midtown, and then as its executive chef. There, Samuelsson became the youngest chef to earn a three-star rating from The New York Times. Samuelsson, now 54, still runs through the city, often dreaming up dishes for his new restaurant, Marcus Addis, in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.

OUTSIDE: I hear you have a rule: no matter where you are in the world, you exercise four times a week. Often you run. How does a kid from Gothenburg become a lifelong runner?

I think itā€™s because Iā€™m Ethiopian. I grew up watching sports, and . Like them, I found it easy to run. It was something in my veins that I enjoyed, and Iā€™m light on my feet. I played a lot of soccer as a kid too, but as I grew up and started working in kitchensā€”having less time for team sportsā€”I started running just to run. Running gives you freedom. You start to think about your outside experience differently than when youā€™re playing on a team with a coach, refs, and so many moving parts. It was like skateboarding or biking as a kidā€”a sense of freedom and discovery that I really enjoyed.

How did running shape your relationship with New York City?

It became my way to explore. I like to , especially in the early morning, when there arenā€™t that many cars. There is a sense of discovery that you canā€™t get once a city is fully awake.

But one of my favorite ways to see the city was on Rollerblades. Iā€™d skate from Midtown down to Chinatown to discover the best food stands, or find places where you can pick up international foods like galangal or different types of ginger that werenā€™t [available] in Midtown. The train or a cab was out of my budget, so Rollerblading or running became the ways I got down there.

What makes running in Central Park one of the best places in the world?

If you go for a run in Central Park on a weekend, you meet people from all over the world doing somethingā€”making music, praying, screaming. Whatever it is, theyā€™re doing it well. You run past iconic places, like where John Lennon lived. If you run downtown, you see beautiful historic buildingsā€”itā€™s urbanism at its fullest.

How did you decide to run your first marathon? What did your training plan look like?

It was a challenge from my mom. Growing up, she pushed me constantly. She challenged me to open a restaurant in Harlem [Red Rooster, in 2010], and we were arguing about whether I was still an athlete. Iā€™ve always been naturally athleticā€”I could roll out of bed and play sports pretty well. But she said, ā€œYouā€™re not an athlete anymore.ā€ To prove her wrong, I ran my first in 2001ā€”without any proper marathon training. I was only running maybe six miles at a time, and I never built up to twelve or eighteen miles. I paid dearly for it. I donā€™t recommend that to anybody.

Youā€™ve gotten involved with run clubs recently. How does running with other people change the experience for you?

I love running with young people. You get into new music, learn new slang and trendsā€”thatā€™s exciting to me. Itā€™s fun to share space with people who arenā€™t part of the chef community. I love that. And people [I meet at run clubs] are always excited to learn Iā€™m Ethiopianā€”but Iā€™m probably the slowest Ethiopian youā€™ll ever meet. I blame it on being Swedish.

Has running altered your relationship with food?

You know, itā€™s not just runningā€”itā€™s spending time outdoors with my kids. When fall comes around and itā€™s time to pick apples or pumpkins, thatā€™s such a great way to be outside with the family. Not only does it take them away from their iPads, but itā€™s also the kind of food-driven freedom I grew up with. I realized that Swedish freedom is a luxury, and Iā€™m trying to give my kids that same sense of luxury.

Running is also a good time to meditate on my work. Iā€™d come to understand umami while runningā€”thinking about how I can improve my processes and recipes. A lot of that happens during the cerebral thinking process when youā€™re running.

Has running ever inspired a dish? Can you share one you came up with while on a run?

At Hav & Mar [his seafood restaurant in Chelsea], we have a dish called Addis York, which really balances New York City life with Addis Ababa. Thatā€™s not a dish I would have come up with in a kitchen. It popped into my head on a run, where I get space from the kitchen and have time to think deeply. I was wondering how to connect these two places and came up with the idea of placing a piece of Ethiopian-spiced fried chicken on top of injera with doro wot stew.

Do you find that running helps you find some zen?

When I travel for work, running takes over my thoughts. Right now, Iā€™m in Miami for an event, and all I can think about is . Running is decompression time. A lot of people focus on the distance when they run, like itā€™s work. For me, itā€™s more about the excitement of looking at the ocean or exploring the city.

Why was it important to you to open your restaurant in Addis Ababa?

I have a very strong heritage there: my half-siblings from my fatherā€™s side, my wifeā€™s brother, and her mom all live there. We travel to Ethiopia often. Iā€™m really excited about the restaurant because itā€™s connected to a school where Ethiopian students have a path to study hospitality, learn to problem-solve, and work together. It gives them a path to a job and a path to success. That makes me really happy.

Why is your work with World Central Kitchen so meaningful to you?

During the pandemic, JosƩ AndrƩs and World Central Kitchen were among the first people to come to Harlem when we truly, truly needed help. With their support at Red Rooster, we served more than 1,000 people per day for several months.

We recently went to Altadena, California, to help after the fire, and the devastation was shocking. But it also brought out the best in people. In the worst of times, you see real peopleā€”Americans helping Americans. No one cares whoā€™s a Republican or a Democrat. That makes me proud of the organization and proud to be an American, especially when that can feel challenging.

This piece first appeared in the summer 2025 print issue of ¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ Magazine. Subscribe now for early access to our most captivating storytelling, stunning photography, and deeply reported features on the biggest issues facing the outdoor world.

The post Running Helps This New York City Chef Create His Best Recipes appeared first on ¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ Online.

When Mali Noyes got on the phone with me on April 17, she was spent. Her exhaustion, miraculously, wasnā€™t from the physical effort of her latest project: skiing every line in the famous Utah backcountryĢżskiing guidebook The Chuting Gallery, by Andrew Mclean, as fast as possible; she was frazzled by the mental toll of exposing herself to hazards and dangerous terrain day in and day out.

“The mental fatigue is so intense that itā€™s hard to wrap my head around,” Noyes toldĢż¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ.

Noyes, 35, works as a pro re nata nurse (an on-call schedule) at the Huntsman Cancer Institute in Salt Lake City. After clocking out of a shift on Tuesday, March 11, she began her skiing objectiveā€”which she calls “Project Rapid Fire”ā€”early the next morning.

Noyes skinned up Broad Fork in Big Cottonwood Canyon and skied down the east face of Twin Peak, followed by the Stairs Gulch. The standout lines were highlights due to the beautiful exposed skiing, and massive vertical drop down the gulch. She immediately began ticking off technical, steep, and hazardous ski descents up and down the Wasatch mountain range. When we spoke, she had skied 77 lines in 37 days, including just seven rest days.

ā€œThe crux for me hasnā€™t been the vert,ā€ Noyes told ¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ. ā€œMy brain has been doing so much decision making day after day, skiing objective hazards. I feel a little trapped in the process.ā€

The Chuting Gallery was published in 1998 while McLean was working as an engineer at Black Diamond. The book has become the quintessential document of the Utah backcountry skiing scene, and anyone who skis every descent in the book cements their name in ski history. Caroline Gleich was catapulted into the spotlight after becoming the first woman to ski every line in the book. The book details 90 of the hardest backcountry ski lines in the Wasatch Mountains that loom over Salt Lake City. Many skiers argue over the final number of chutes, since the book often describes areas that are home to multiple couloirs. Noyes has determined her number to be 93.

“Andrew McLeanā€™s writing and book captured my imagination,ā€ Gleich told Backcountry magazine. ā€œIt gave me a roadmap to becoming a ski mountaineer. His quirky book became a shaping force in my career, and Iā€™m grateful for his leadership and vision in writing The Chuting Gallery.ā€

Noyes’ idea to ski all 93 lines in succession was born during the 2023 winter, when Utah received over 900 inches of snow. ā€œI was having so much fun skiing big objectives, and I started linking up more and more of them at once,ā€ Noyes said. Also a professional big mountain skier, Noyes began her athletic career as a Nordic ski racer. ā€œI just love long days, and the logistical and strategic challenge of skiing all 93 couloirs in The Chuting Gallery in record time excited me.ā€

Prior to launching her project, Noyes shared the ideaĢżwith fellow professional backcountry skierĢżCody Townsend, who is her mentor and teammate on the Salomon backcountry team. She told Townsend she was waiting for the right year for this project. Noyes wanted all the snow conditions to align perfectly. Some of theĢżChuting Gallery ski lines descend rocky and exposed terrain, and require a deep snowpack to be skiable.

But Townsend told her sheā€™d never find the perfect year, and that she should take on the challenge as soon as possible. ā€œItā€™s through the suffering and bad snow conditions that you make the experience your own,ā€ he said to Noyes.

The March 12 start date was less than ideal. Noyes started so late in the season because she was waiting for avalanche danger in the Wasatch to subside. The late start didnā€™t hamper her early in her mission, but as she kept ticking off chutes and March rolled into April, the remaining ski descents melted quickly.

Many of these ski lines are clustered in the same drainages, but while in years past Noyes has been able to complete multiple descents in a day, this year, the hot April sun shortened the windows during which those couloirs would be safe from wet avalanches. This means that Noyes has only been able to ski one or two of those chutes in a day. She has had to repeatedly bushwack and hike far into gullies that on a different year sheā€™d only have to visit once.

ā€œA week ago I slipped in a creek on the way to the Y-Couloir in Little Cottonwood Canyon. I broke down and began to cry,ā€ Noyes said. ā€œI wondered if I still loved skiing, and why I was skiing this shitty snow over here instead of great snow elsewhere because of this list.ā€

But Noyes has a new strategy to deal with the mental crux. ā€œEvery time I scream and tell myself ā€˜I fucking hate this,ā€™ Iā€™ve tricked my brain into saying ā€˜Iā€™m really fucking good at this.ā€™ā€ And she is. Noah Howell, a legendary Wasatch skier, took 13 years to complete the guidebook. Caroline Gleich skied every line in The Chuting Gallery over the course of four years. Noyes is on track to finish out the book in less than two months.

Sheā€™s had great days, like when she linked three lines on Kesler Peak in Big Cottonwood Canyon in stable powder. ā€œIt was a 10,000-foot day with a good crew and great snow,ā€ Noyes said. She owns a home nestledĢżin Little Cottonwood Canyon, and hasnā€™t explored the neighboring canyon enough. She told ¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ that this project has been an amazing way to branch out of her skiing bubble. Noyes also skied the Great White Icicleā€”a popular ice climb that is in the book as a novelty and is often skied on rappelā€”on snowblades at night. Noyes jokingly called that a first descent of its kind.

But it hasnā€™t been all bluebird powder days. ā€œI had a week where I had three close calls in four days,ā€ she said. ā€œThat felt like it broke my brain a little, like ā€˜I have to keep going back into these mountains that are trying to kill me.ā€™ā€

Her least favorite day of the project so far was when she skied Lisa Falls with New Zealand pro skier Sam Smoothy. The ski line is at a relatively low elevation, and the very top of it commonly avalanches and collects windblown snow. ā€œItā€™s a complicated 5,000-foot approach, and the second the sun hits the face it can shed,ā€ she said. Noyes and Smoothy began at 2 A.M., planning to climb the line, ski it, and climb it again to link up with faces on the other side of the peak. But Smoothy didnā€™t feel well that day and they were moving slower than they wanted. Sunlight hit the face when they were climbing and the couloir heated up quickly. ā€œIt was way more danger than I ever wanted to put myself in,ā€ she said. The skiers were able to descend safely, but they saw many natural avalanches on their way out of the canyon.

Her latest lines have looked the hardest, as a melting snowpack has revealed multiple rappels with sketchy-looking anchors in the middle of the couloirs that are sometimes fully skiable. ā€œRopes slow things down, and they can create other hazardsā€ Noyes told ¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ. ā€œTwo days after Lisa Falls, I went into Hogum Fork to ski a line called Montgomery, which had a rappel at the bottom. But we couldnā€™t find an anchor, and it took so long that the snow heated up and started shedding.ā€

Noyes lamented that if she hadnā€™t been chasing this project, she would never have been in that spot. But she said days like that provide good teachable moments. Sheā€™s been getting up even earlier, often at 1 A.M. to beat the heat.

Risk to life and limb is just one aspect of her stress. Noyes told ¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ that her cat, Beater, has been a source of concern. After a coyote ate a neighborā€™s cat, Beater hasnā€™t been allowed out at night. But at 1 A.M., Noyes isnā€™t always alert enough to stop him from slipping out of the door. ā€œHeā€™d snuck out the night we left for Lisa Falls, and Iā€™d be lying if I said he wasnā€™t adding to the pure stress I felt that day,ā€ she said. ā€œI saw him dashing into the woods, and all I could do was tell him, ā€˜Make good choices, bud.ā€™ā€

When asked about how sheā€™s been able to maintain her motivation throughout the challenge, Noyes is quick to credit the large group of friends, most of whom are professional skiers, who have rallied to ski these couloirs with her. ā€œSkiing is not an individual sport,ā€ Noyes told ¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ. ā€œThis isnā€™t a Mali project, itā€™s a community project.ā€

Noyes has to work a minimum of two days a month at the Huntsman Institute to fulfill her contract. Sheā€™s hoping to finish Project Rapid Fire with enough time to clock back in for two days in April.

Update: Mali Noyes completed her 93rd and final line on April 27, completingĢżThe Chuting GalleryĢżin just 47 days.

The post This Nurse Just Skied Utahā€™s Hardest Descents in Record Time appeared first on ¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ Online.

The sun had set by the time I reached the top of the skin track on Earthquake Dome, a popular backcountry skiing zone near my home in Mammoth Lakes, California, and I hadnā€™t packed a headlamp. It was a February evening and Iā€™d driven ten minutes from my home in town to ski an after-work lap. Iā€™d overestimated my speed and underestimated the low winter sun, and now I was transitioning a pair of uniquely shaped skisā€”so rockered they looked like a bananaā€”for their first ever lap downhill. I couldnā€™t see a thing and just prayed I wouldn’t slip and take a pratfall like in a cartoon.

A few weeks earlier I sat on a Zoom call with Xan Marshland, the co-founder of WNDR Alpine. Marshland had wanted me to test the Intention 108, the Salt Lake City-based brandā€™s flagship ski made partially with stringers of an algae-derived plastic. Very few ski manufacturers put polyurethane (i.e. plastic) in skis right now, typically opting for combinations of wood, fiberglass, carbon fiber, and aluminum alloys. But polyurethane is an engineered material, meaning ski makers can tune its stiffness, rebound, and vibration damping properties to make the ski do exactly what they want. And only WNDR’s plastic is fully renewable. Marshland believes that not only does the algae make WNDR’s skis eco-friendlier, but it also makes them perform better. ā€œIn the mountains, materials matter,ā€ he told me.

Iā€™ve tested skis for a living for the last five years, and I have long been skeptical of space-age and eco-friendly materials being responsible for marked increases in performance. But as I’ve spent more and more time on the WNDR Intention 108, it has turned into my favorite ski ever made.

Unfortunately, the future of WNDR Alpine is unknown at this time. The company recently put all of their skis and snowboards on clearance and seem to have sold the entirety of their backstock. Marshland told me that the brand has some prospective buyers in the wings, but did not offer specifics. It seems that, without a fresh infusion of cash, WNDR Alpine may fold entirely. I, for one, hope the brand finds a new home and continues to be a driving force of innovation and sustainability in skiing.

How Does WNDR’s Algae-Based Plastic Affect Ski Performance?

Standing atop Earthquake Dome that night and clicking into the skis, it was time for the algae-based plastic to hit the snow. (People say that, right?) I let my headlamp-equipped fiancĆ©e lead, figuring I could follow her light through the maze of tight trees back to the car. I followed, skiing by the faint, quickly-receding glow of whiteā€”my only guide. After getting used to the ample rocker (e.g. after a few tumbles in the dark) I began to increase my speed and feel what Marshland had described on our call in the skiā€™s construction. The Intention 108 was remarkably damp, the polyurethane in its core muting the vibrations that should have been transmitted to my body from the firm and choppy snow that had been sitting for a few weeks since the last storm.

As I began to ski the WNDR Intention 108 more and more in the coming weeks, I realized that the plastic was the secret sauceā€”that it was sustainably sourced was just icing on the cake. Think of it like a ski boot. Heavier ski boots designed for expert skiers, and ski racers in particular, are made from a heavy polyurethane that is formulated to produce a smooth, progressive flex when a skier drives their shins into it. That flex then rebounds, popping a skier into their next turn. This ski had the exact same feelingā€”the dampness, the stability, and, when pushed, the return of energy that drew me across the fall line.

Why I Love Skiing the WNDR Intention 108

Since that first tour, Iā€™ve been skiing the WNDR Intention 108 whenever I can. Though I mounted them with a lightweight pin binding for backcountry skiing, I often ski them at the resort when the snow is soft. Iā€™ve traveled with the Intention 108 to Canada for my bachelor party at RED Mountain Resort, Iā€™ve skied waist-deep powder, bulletproof wind-crusted snow, and even rappelled with them into a 55-degree couloir with dubious sun-crusted ice. With its substantial weight, I could see putting a hybrid binding like the or ATK Hy Free on it and skiing it both in and out of bounds.

Iā€™ve skied many hundreds of different pairs of skis in my life, but the Intention 108 is hands-down my favorite. I trust it high in the mountains, deep in the backcountry, and in a variety of snow conditions. I ski more bad snow than good, and these skis are not just dependableā€”theyā€™re so much fun.

You can tame the loose, unlocked feel of the Intention 108’s full rocker shapeĢżby putting the ski on edge, orĢżĢżfully embrace it by skiing it on a flat base.ĢżIn steep terrain with firm snowā€”the conditions many experts will tell you necessitate having camber under your feetā€”the Intention 108 can pivot and slide, making it easy to hop turn down sketchy stuff.ĢżThe full rocker profile also makes the Intention 108 is easy to ski in moguls andĢżair off the slightest bump or takeoff. It even carves surprisingly well for its width and lack of traditional camber. Iā€™ve never ridden a ski that possessed such mind-boggling versatility.

An obvious sticking point for a lot of skiers will be the Intention 108’s weight. In a 188 centimeter length, this ski weighs 2,000 grams. That’s a lot for most skiers to lug uphill, but WNDR doesn’t bill the Intention 108 as a dedicated backcountry ski. If your average day in the mountains has you clocking more than 3,000 to 4,000 feet of elevation gain, you may want to consider a lighter ski.

But for me, with a lightweight tech binding (a ) and a medium-weight AT boot (the ), I find that I don’t start to drag below 4,000 vertical feet. Even on huge days in the backcountry, the ski’s weight can be advantageousā€”on long tours in the high alpine you often encounter all sorts of weird and difficult snow textures; the Intention’s weight can help mellow out rough conditions.

I wish more ski manufacturers would consider putting polyurethane in their products. Regardless of the sustainability, which is awesome, theyā€™re just more predictable than twitchy, carbon-filled backcountry skis, or even solid-wood core alpine skis. WNDR’s algae-based plastics and resins replace toxic glues and petroleum products in their skis, leading to a ski that’s both easier to recycle and less harmful if it ever does end up in a landfill.

Granted, skiers who prioritize edge hold in nasty snow will want to opt for a cambered ski. Those skiers are in luck: the Intention 108 also comes in a cambered shape.

Making Skis More Sustainably

WNDR made a move last year to make their Intention 108 in the Sideways Sports (SWS) factory in Dubai. The idea was to bring their algae oil technology, developed by WNDR’s parent company, Checkerspot, to a facility that also makes snowboards for Arbor, Jones, and Liquid Force. Once the factory knows how to use the microalgae-oil plastic, they can use it in other brands’ products.

I have mixed feelings about this.

On the one hand, making their product in a facility that uses 100-percent green energy is a huge win. And I’m hugely supportive of the sharing of ideas that could make the snowsports industry less harmful to the environment. The SWS factory also has the capability to produce a binding plate made from the factory’s own reclaimed waste that is 35 percent stronger than the industry standard. That means fewer bindings rip out of skis, and fewer skis end up in the dumpster.

That said, making skis in Dubaiā€”far away from the snowsports worldā€”vastly increases product shipping distances, requiring more fuel and energy. Dubai also has a suspect history with labor rights and safety standards that shouldnā€™t be overlooked. My greenwashing (and ) antennae tend to prick up when I hear of sustainability and the United Arab Emirates, but I leave that for the reader to parse.

That said, I am certain that WNDR Alpine is good for the ski industry. Though its future is uncertain, I hope the company finds a competent buyer and continues to push skiing forward. In the meantime, you can find me high in the alpine through the summer months with the Intention 108 under my feet.

The post I’ve Tested Hundreds of Skis, But this Ski Made from Algae Is My All-Time Favorite appeared first on ¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ Online.

The sun was setting over the South Face of 12,972-foot Mount Robson, the highest peak in the Canadian Rockies, when Canadian professional ski mountaineer Christina ā€œLustiā€ Lustenberger and IFMGA guide Guillaume ā€œGeeā€ Pierrel decided to bail on their climb.

The two were attempting a first descent of the peak’s Great Couloir on February 13, and were just 650 feet shy of the summit when they decided to turn around.

“At that point we thought ‘Oh my God, future me would wanna go back, but I need a break from this.'” Lustenberger toldĢż¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ.

Lustenberger and Pierrel, hot on the heels of their astoundingĢżset of first descents on New Zealandā€™s 12,218-foot Mount Cook, were attempting to put their stamp on a face that has tested mountaineering greats for generations. Famed Canadian alpinist Barry Blanchard established a route called “Infinite Patience” on the mountainā€™s Emperor Face 2002, and in 2016, the late Marc-AndrĆ© Leclerc climbed that route solo.

Canadians Ptor Spricenieks and Troy Jungen skied the first descent of the peak in 1995, a line that would later enter the book . Their line, the North Face, has only been skied once since, by .

ā€œRobson holds the names of so many legends of skiing and climbing,ā€ Lustenberger said. ā€œItā€™s iconic in so many ways and for Gee and I to put our names up there with those greats is incredibly meaningful.ā€

Lustenberger and Pierrelā€™s descent on that first attempt would prove to be much more difficult than the climb. The skiers had to reverse several pitches of mixed rock and ice climbing, ski some of the worst snow theyā€™d ever encountered, and rig seven rappels through sections of decaying sedimentary rock and vertical iceā€”all in the dark.

The pair began their first attempt on February 13, and had attempted to climb the south face over two days, setting up camp halfway up the mountain while temperatures dropped below minus-13 degrees Fahrenheit.

On the way down, they packed up their camp and descended carefully. The Great Couloir is shaped like a giant funnel, and the further Lustenberger and Pierrel descended, the greater the risk that falling rock and ice could injure or kill them. The two ski mountaineers exited the lower gully through a section of trees so tight they had to remove their skis. They finally returned to their motor home at 10 P.M.

“On that first attempt, the snow was so bad,” Pierrel toldĢż¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ. “Hard, icy, all the stuff fell down the chute that day made little bumps and waves. The skiing was terrible.”

After regrouping in the nearby town of Valemount for a few days, Lustenberger and Pierrel returned to Mount Robson with a film crew. The team flew to the east side of the mountain and began climbing the Kain Route, a world-famous alpine climb, on February 15.

It had snowed during their break in Valemount, and conditions were much better for skiing when they returned. ā€œMt. Robson creates its own weather system,ā€ Lustenberger said.

The skiers set out in sub-zero temperaturesā€”ideal for keeping the rock and snow glued into place. ā€œThatā€™s why I invited Gee to come in February,ā€ she said. ā€œRobson has such a big South Face that we wanted to limit solar radiation. The sun is so intense in March that it would shed. Earlier than February, the days are too short.ā€

Luckily, the snow didnā€™t hide the rappel anchors the duo had placed on their first attempt a few days prior, which sped up their descent from the summit. This proved to be key for their safety in The Great Colouir.

ā€œItā€™s like playing Russian Roulette, a game of chance,ā€ said Pierrel. ā€œWe called the lower part of the descent the Cascade. Youā€™re funneled through these little gullies. We can control how fast we move through those gullies but not what comes down on our heads.ā€

In recent years, Lustenberger has skied lines that have previous ski mountaineers haven’t even consideredā€”Robson, Cook, the Great Trango Tower. These ski lines are essentially ice climbing routes that Lustenberger has descended on skis.

¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ asked her and Pierrel how they approach these routes, given the increasing danger around each objective.

ā€œWhen you step into that line youā€™re accepting a huge amount of consequences that you canā€™t control,ā€ said Lustenberger. ā€œI think thatā€™s part of being in the mountains. But I felt like Mount Robson was an important part of my vision and journey. It was something I felt viscerally compelled to do.”

Lustenberger said she’s assessed the south face of Mount Robson for a decade. “I decided to go this season because my requirements lined up. After skiing with Gee in New Zealand, I knew I had a partner that I trust completely and move really well with in the mountains,ā€ Lustenberger said.

Pierrel is a guide, and he is accustomed to operating with much wider margins of safety. ā€œThis was so far from the style of risk management I often use in the mountains as a guide,ā€ he said. ā€œAt one point I said ā€˜Iā€™m too old for this shit, Iā€™m not made of iron like you Lusti.ā€™ā€

Pierrel said that by the end of the descent he was physically and mentally exhausted from the stress of being exposed to falling rock and ice. ā€œPersonally, I pushed pretty close to the maximum,” he added.

On February 16, after their painfully close attempt three days prior, the two ski mountaineers reached the summit and then carved their signatures down the South Face of the Rockiesā€™ most formidable peak.

“Robson is the King of the Rockies,” Lustenberger said. “It’s elevation relief and scope is real, Himalayan-style terrain sitting in the Canadian Rockies. I am so relieved to be on the other side of this project. Itā€™s been a dream in the making, one I had thought about for years. My ski partner Gee was a force and we worked hard as a team. Constantly pushing ourselves and each other to another level.”

Their film about the expedition, produced by production company Sherpas Cinemas, will come out in late 2025. As for whatā€™s next? Pierrel hinted his interest in attempting to ski Mount Everestā€™s Hornbein Couloir, a line he describes as extremely similar to Robsonā€™s Great Couloirā€”if it sat on the Roof of the World.

But first, both skiers told ¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ they needed a relaxing trip to the sauna.

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Thereā€™s no other way to put it: My skier friends and I are hedonists. We chase the pleasuresĢżof a 100-day ski season, cold snow splashing in our faces as we make turns in deep powder. We stay up late dancing, eat fondue and sip a cold beer on a sundeck under an azure sky. We minimize discomfort by shelling out beaucoup bucks for absurdly expensive outerwear and spend hours in a ski shop tweaking our plastic foot-coffins.

Despite this dogged commitment to skiing, I’ve recently made a compromise, to preserve my sanity while chasing snow 12 months a year, to maximize pleasure and minimize pain, I will no longer wake up at the crack of dawn on powder days to chase bottomless turns alongside the early-risers.

I know. I know. Thatā€™s what itā€™s all aboutā€”thereā€™s an early morning ritual that skiers hold sacred. Rise early, brew coffee or grab a cup and a breakfast burrito at the local cafe, boot up in the lot well before the bullwheel spins, and snag first chair and an untracked run.

For dedicated skiers, that experience is universal. But Iā€™m over it. My old early morning routine will give you a clue as to why.

It went something like this: I’d wake up bleary-eyed (I have never been a morning person) at 6 A.M. Fumble upstairs and realize the temperature of my living room has dropped to 48 degrees Fahrenheit.Ģż

After an arduous experience shoveling and loading the car, I would drive to the mountain. Rubbing a slim circle in the fog on my windshield so I could see if I was still on the road, I would hit traffic. Some crossover driver who thought all-wheel drive is the same thing as having snow tires spun off the road and stalled the creeping line of also ill-equipped cars to a standstill.

By the time I make it to the resort, boot up, and get in the lift line, I can see nothing but ski tracks on every bit of choice terrain on the hill.

It’s just not worth it. Iā€™m done waking up early for pow days.

If youā€™ve read this far, youā€™re probably thinking, ā€œDoes this guy even like skiing?ā€ No. To be clear:ĢżI love skiing. I eat, sleep, and breathe skiing. I’ve built my life around it to the point where I live 20 minutes from the resort, an incredible privilege that has ravaged my savings account to its core. In fact, I’m so obsessed with the sport that I couldnā€™t care less what kind of snow conditions I ski. Skied up chop is just as fun to me as deep powder, so Iā€™ll be as happy showing up at noon on a powder day, just as the early birds are starting to leave from their primo parking spots.

Iā€™ll spend the afternoon hours popping off soft moguls, finding air anywhere and everywhere. Iā€™ll hunt for stashes of snow that the wind has picked up and recirculated. Iā€™ll lap the chair that crowds have abandoned, thinking itā€™s all been skied out and laugh as I find pockets of pow and ski right back onto an empty chair lift.

Iā€™m a backcountry skier too, and I live among a range that is more than 200 miles long and populated by fewer than 15,000 people. So donā€™t worry. I still ski powder. But to me, thatā€™s no longer what resort skiing is for. Itā€™s for hot laps with your friends and not stressing over morning lines, car accidents, traffic, or powder panic.

This weekend itā€™s going to snow another foot and a half, and you can find me lapping Mammoth Mountainā€™s Chair 22, the best chairlift on earth, from 2-4 P.M. Because Iā€™m a hedonist, and Iā€™ll be having more fun than anyone else on the mountain.

Jake Stern is a digital editor atĢż¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ. He spends the winter months skiing as much as humanly possible. He just needs his beauty rest.

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On October 17, professional ski mountaineers Christina “Lusti” Lustenberger and Guillaume “Gee” Pierrel sunk their ice tools into the shoulder of New Zealand’s highest peak, 12,218-foot Aoraki, also called Mount Cook. They ascended the mountain under darkness, climbing over snow, rock, and ice beneath the aurora australis. Clicking into their skis atop their new line at 8 A.M., they spied the full moon and prepared to drop into their third big-mountain ski descent in just four days.

“We went on a bit of a rampage,” said Pierrel.

The line they descended, which they named Hunter’s Moon, after the Kiwi name for the full moon, was the most dangerous and demanding that either had skied. “Every single turn we made on that face had a serious consequence, because of the exposure,” Lusti told ¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ.Ģż

Lusti and Pierrel met on a North Face team trip in Chamonix this year, and quickly developed a strong ski partnership. Pierrel is an IFMGA guide known for skiing steep and technical descents in his home of Chamonix, but he’s also descended lines in the Himalayas and the Andes. In 2021, he skied a first descent from the summit of Gasherbrum II in Pakistan in alpine style with no supplemental oxygen.

Lusti, meanwhile, has scored several noteworthy accomplishments in 2024, including the first descent of Pakistan’s Great Trango Tower with Jim Morrison and Chantel Astorga on May 9. But the duo’s New Zealand rampage marked new territory for them both.

 

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Lusti first spotted Hunter’s Moon when she entered the Southern Alps on September 28. When Pierrel arrived on October 1, she decided to partner up with him to tackle a few lines.

New Zealand’s Southern Alps is home to famously fickle weather. The range is extremely close to the ocean and storms blow in quickly and often without warning. Lusti and Pierrel had spent the week prior skiing from a hut near Aoraki, but high winds and blowing snow kept them from being able to access their biggest objectives. During that time, they connected with Kiwi skiers Sam Smoothy and Will Rountreei, local legends who have been quietly ticking away extreme skiing in the range for the last few years. Together, the four athletes skied the Bowie Couloir, another line on Aoraki. Smoothy and Rountree’s efforts have brought attention to skiing in the Mount Cook Range, and Lusti and Pierrel credit the New Zealanders for piquing their interest.

“Sam and Will have shed some light on the steep skiing in this range,” said Pierrel. “They’re bringing a new vision to New Zealand and we got on that train.”

Once the snow stopped falling and their weather window opened, Lusti and Pierrel took full advantage of clear conditions. They first climbed and skied the glaciated southeast face of 9,853-foot Mount Dixon. They named their route the ā€œMullet Direct,ā€ in honor of the alpinist Mike Gardner, an inspiration to both Lusti and Pierrel. Then, just two days later, they skied the cracked-up east face of 10,856-foot Mount Vancouver. The pair named that first descent ā€œUncle Pete,ā€ for Lusti’s uncle, who died a few days laterā€”but not before he saw photos of the line they dedicated to him.

On October 17, the duo began climbing Aoraki to ski by far the most demanding line either skier had ever attempted. Lusti and Pierrel climbed the rarely-repeated Jones route on the mountain’s east face, a sustained 55-degree series of ice and rock runnels that ascends from the mouth of the Caroline Glacier to the shoulder of the peak. “Our vision was always to descend this intricate ramp system further skier’s right,” Lusti said. “We started their descent at 9:15 A.M. in unforgiving icy snow conditions. Committed to the exposure, one turn at a time, we pushed each other out of our comfort zones.”

The icy surface required the utmost precision and attention, but Lusti and Pierrel were able to link turns down the entire face, save for one short section of glacier ice near the top that was too firm for their edges. They made a short rappel to navigate that section.

The ramp they skied looked improbable from the glacier floor, and even climbing up the pair of skiers could barely make out that it was skiable. Pierrel had spotted the exit ramp during an aborted attempt on the Jones route the week prior, which allowed the duo to escape the line cleanly on skis without needing to rappel. They backed off on the earlier attempt because the strong winds ripped the snow off the face, leaving bare ice.

But when the storm subsided, the gap of nice weather was longer than Lusti and Pierrel anticipated. That amount of time let them get acquainted with the snow quality and boosted their confidence when the time came to climb and ski Aoraki. “Going back-to-back with the lines like that allowed us to build a really intimate relationship with the snow conditions,” Lusti said. “We were so in tune with how the snow was changing that we were able to step out further each day into steep and dangerous terrain.” By the time the duoĢżdropped in on Hunter’s Moon, they were able to anticipate some of the surprises the mountain threw at them.

New Zealand’s finicky snowpack added to the descent’s difficulty. Strong winds off the Tasman Sea create an transform the snowpack into an inconsistent and patchy surface. In any one descent, skiers are likely to encounter nĆ©vĆ© ice, refrozen surfaces, and loose, dry powder. “You need to be extremely calculated from turn to turn, constantly anticipating the conditions ahead of youā€”and whether or not you can surmount them with your edges,” Lusti said. ” You’re basically just clinging for your life at every turn.” That intimate knowledge of the snowpack proved paramount to the safety of the descent.

But equally important was the trust that the two built in the process. Lusti was holding the weight of the loss, but Pierrel helped her focus and be present in the mountains. “Having a partner like Gee who trusted what we were doing and who had a complete focus in the vision we were trying to accomplish allowed me to feel confident and push away my distractions,” Lusti said. Reflecting on Hunter’s Moon in particular, Lusti said she was grateful to have such a brilliant partner who pushed her forward when she needed it and was willing to be pushed by her in return.

Pierrel told ¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ that he felt lucky to be accompanying Lusti on the peak.Ģż“I’ve been skiing with the best athletes in Chamonix, and Christina was so impressive,” Pierrel said. He described her making turns on tiny ribbons of ice while he was using his ice axe to help him slide down.

To push the envelope of what’s possible in ski mountaineering, the stars have to align. SkiersĢżneed the right snow, the right partner, the right motivation, and even the right luck. “On that day we went, under the full moon, we had this incredible night sky,” Lusti said. “That’s when hard times’ silver linings appear. We were able to find such an incredible flow within our partnership and put down lines that were really special for the people in our community.” Under the full moon, the southern lights, and a sky full of stars, Lusti and Pierrel were in exactly the right place to make skiing history.

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Billowing smoke and falling ash blotted out the sun in Wrightwood, California on Tuesday, September 10. It was so dark that crickets began chirping in the early afternoon and drivers had to flick on their headlights. What had started as a small brush fire in the Angeles National Forest three days beforehand, the Bridge Fire explodedā€”by Wednesday, September 11, it would consume 47,904 acres.

The blaze crept up the hills of Wrightwood and began burning grassy hillsides within the beloved Mountain High ski area, a local resort famous for its easily accessible after-work night skiing for Los Angelinos. Luckily for Mountain High, the resortā€™s tenacious snow cannon operators jumped into action and began spraying trees and buildings with water. According to an update on Wednesday afternoon, the employees and firefighters prevented the loss of any resort buildings.

BRIDGE FIRE UPDATE
Fire raced through the area yesterday but GREAT NEWS! All the main lifts & buildings survived with little to no damage. THANK YOU to the fire fighters & employees for their hard work! Our hearts go out to the Wrightwood community, WE ARE WITH YOU.

ā€” Mountain High (@mthigh)

ā€œWhen the fire got close, they fired up all the guns and were able to get the trees wet and keep the fire off the buildings,ā€ Dennis Nadalin, who runs video production for Mountain High, told me.

Mountain High has invested millions of dollars in snowmaking equipment, Nadalin said, and its new taller towers were instrumental in protecting the resortā€™s buildings.

ā€œOur snowmaking crew is top-notch, probably one of the best in the world,ā€ Nadalin said.Ģż ā€œThey have been making snow up here since the sixties.ā€

Videos posted on X on Tuesday night showed flames billowing near the ski area’s chairlifts and structures.

This is some of the most intense fire video Iā€™ve ever seen. A California ski resort burned to the ground on a livestream. resort in Wrightwood, CA has been consumed by the .

ā€” Gage Goulding – KPRC 2 (@GageGoulding)

Approximately out of the Wrightwood area on Tuesday after the fire destroyed 40 homes, according to ABC. Nadalin said he had to relocate several times due to approaching flames. He was evacuated from his home in Highland after a different fire, called the Line Fire, ignited. He relocated to Wrightwood, but then he had to move back to Highland due to encroaching flames from the Bridge Fire.

The entire city of Wrightwood, California, is under an evacuation order as webcam footage from Mountain High Ski Resort shows the burning through the resort.

Multiple fast-moving wildfires are beginning to impact communities across Southern California.

ā€” Colin McCarthy (@US_Stormwatch)

Nadalin told me he was relieved to learn that Mountain Highā€™s structures were savedā€”itā€™s a place heā€™s skied since the early seventies. ā€œThe fact that the ski area exists in a place where you could actually see Los Angeles, Catalina Island, and the High Sierra all at once is really pretty incredible,ā€ Nadalin told me.

Located two hours north of Los Angeles, the resort is something of a melting pot. Its night skiing draws a commuter crowd that can ski and ride after work. Its mix of gentle terrain and steep slopes draws skiers and snowboarders of diverse abilities. And itā€™s a great place to learn. When I lived in Oceanside, California, I would ski at Mountain High after work, and I loved to see the mountain’s diverse clientele: beginners getting on snow for the first time, semi-professional park riders hitting rails and jumps, and seemingly everyone in-between. I even wrote a feature on the Southern California ski scene for Powder.

Nadalin credits the mountainā€™s quick response to firefighting to its innovative infrastructure. ā€œMountain High has always been an early adopter kind of place,ā€ he said. ā€œGrowing up in Wrightwood and having a season pass since the early seventies, I’ve seen a lot of changes, a lot of improvements. Over the years, the snowmaking system has evolved into these big pipes and these big fan guns that are permanently mounted on the hill, where all they have to do is just turn a switch to get them going. That’s one of the reasons that the resort got savedā€”the snowmaking system is so good and so thorough.ā€

The mountain operations employees will soon begin running safety checks to assess any damage to individual lifts, but it seems that a majority of its infrastructure was left unharmed. The Bridge Fire is currently zero percent contained.

These conflagrations sparked after an immense heat wave brought record-breaking 110-degree temperatures to the Los Angeles Basin. High winds and dry vegetation sat waiting for a spark. In the case of the 35,000-acre Line Fire, outside of Big Bear, California, an arsonist provided the ignition source. San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department arrested 34-year-old Norco man Justin Wayne Halstenberg on Tuesday on suspicion of arson.

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Americans can hardly agree on anything to do with politics. But in Florida, a plan that threatens multiple state parks is proving to be an exception to that rule. Recently, the office of Republican governor Ron DeSantis unveiled a proposal to develop nine popular Florida parks into golf courses, pickleball courts, and luxury hotels. The plan has brought together people of all partiesā€”Republicans and Democrats, alike, all hate it.

ā€œThey are literally paving paradise,ā€ Heather Meade, a St. Augustine resident, said to . ā€œState Parks are for the people of Florida. They are affordable and family friendly. There are plenty of hotels, condos, and golf courses in our area and no need to convert the parks.ā€

The plan, which the governorā€™s office released on August 20Ģżas part of their Great Outdoors Initiative, details the development of pickleball courts, disc golf courses, a 350-room lodge, a ā€œglamping areaā€, and golf courses. It was met with fury from Floridians of all stripes on social media. Then, Floridians came together to protest the plan on August 27 at Jonathan Dickinson State Park.

In the days after the Great Outdoor Initiative document was published, more than 47,000 people joined a Facebook group called Protect Jonathan Dickinson State Park. The group organized a protest on Tuesday, August 27 at the park, during which Democratic state representative Lindsay Cross spoke to protestors in favor of stalling the plan and protecting the park.

According to the , Jonathan Dickinson is home to the largest amount of protected scrub-jay habitat in Southeast Florida.

In the days following its unveiling, the plan also attracted criticism from state lawmakers on both sides of the aisle. Floridaā€™s Republican senators Marco Rubio and Rick Scott wrote in a letter that the planā€™s call for a one-hour hearing was ā€œabsolutely ridiculous.ā€

ā€œWe believe every voting member of the (Acquisition and Restoration Council) must attend a public comment meeting before taking any action regarding the proposal,ā€ the letter reads. ā€œAn hour-long meeting on a weekday afternoon when most people are at work will not suffice.ā€

The governorā€™s office has defended the plan as a way to attract more people to the parks with enticing recreation opportunities. ā€œTeddy Roosevelt believed that public parks were for the benefit and enjoyment of the people, and we agree with him,ā€ press secretary Jeremy Redfern said. ā€œBut itā€™s high time we made public lands more accessible to the public.ā€

This golf course would ensure that locals & visitors alike have access to a popular outdoor sport & provide accessibility for all. Here is our proposal.

ā€” Florida DEP News (@FLDEPNews)

Questioned by reporters on August 28, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis said ā€œIf people donā€™t want improvements, then donā€™t do it.ā€

On August 27, officialsĢżscrapped the plan for the Jonathan Dickinson golf courses after Tuskegee Dunes Foundation, one of its main proponents, backed out amid growing pressure from activists. But the remaining eight state park projects remain on the table.

But opponents say theyĢżwonā€™t stop until the other plans are axed. ā€œWe must remain vigilant and we will not stop,ā€ Kim Begay, vice president and conservation advocate at the Clearwater Audubon Society, told the .

Hours after the letter was released, the department posted on social media that it would be postponing all the public meetings about the state park plans.

In the last five years, Florida has been known for a politics mired in partisan squabbling. Between attacks on Disney World and book bans in schools, it seems that the stateā€™s parks are a beacon of unity. After all, our green spaces are a public good on which we can all agree.

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A massive hydrothermal explosion rocked the popular Biscuit Basin area of Yellowstone National Park on Tuesday morning.

According to the National Park Service, the eruption occurred at approximately 10:19 A.M. local time, and it occurred near the Sapphire Pool, just north of Old Faithful. Nobody was hurt, but officials closed the entire areaā€”including the boardwalksā€”for safety reasons.

An unusually large eruption of one of Yellowstoneā€™s geysers occurred at Biscuit Basin moments ago.

— Colin McCarthy (@US_Stormwatch)

A California woman named Vlada March captured video of the massive blast and uploaded the clip to Facebook. According to , March said she and her family were on a trip to the national park when they noticed steam rising from Sapphire Pool. March began filming the area and caught images of tourists walking near the pool shortly before it exploded, showering the area in water, rocks, and mud.

You can hear March yelling “run run run!” to her loved ones in the clip.

The debris destroyed much of the walkway around Sapphire Pool and Black Diamond Pool, another thermal feature in the area.

“No other monitoring data show changes in the Yellowstone region,” said the NPS in their statement. “Todayā€™s explosion does not reflect a change in the volcanic system, which remains at normal background levels of activity.”

The explosion comes just days after another eruption in the parkā€”the Steamboat Geyser recently erupted and showered nearby cars in silica residue. Park staff and the USGS will monitor the area and determine when Biscuit Basin is safe to reopen.

This is an ongoing story, andĢż¹ś²ś³Ō¹ĻŗŚĮĻ will update it as more news becomes available.

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One of Canada’s most popular national parks has been evacuated due to encroaching wildfires.

On Monday, July 22, the Canadian government ordered 4,700 residents living in Jasper National Park to flee, as flames from the Semo Complex Fire, roared into the area. Jasper National Park is located in western Alberta, along the province’s border with British Columbia, and the reserve encompasses large swaths of the Canadian Rockies.

According to multiple reports, the order to flee caught residents by surpriseā€”most live in the town of Jasper, which is located inside the park. The blaze cut off a number of escape routes in Alberta, forcing evacuees to flee to the west into neighboring British Columbia.

The order came after multiple conflagrations and thick smoke spread across the region from the mega-fire, which is a union of several smaller blazes that have burned a total of 237,221 acres in Alberta and British Columbia. Currently, Canadian firefighting officials consider the Semo Complex Fire to be “out of control.” There are more than 160 wildfires raging in Alberta as of Monday.

“One wildfire is approximately 12 kilometers (seven-and-a-half miles) south of Jasper on both sides of the river and wind may exacerbate the situation,” Mike Ellis, Alberta’s minister of public safety and emergency services, said during a news conference on July 23.

On Monday, escaping tourists and locals posted messages to social media that had tones of both confusion and frustration.ĢżEscape routes were narrowed to single lanes in places and traffic slowed to a crawl amid the chaos.

ā€œCrawling out of town. Itā€™s been smoky all day ash started appearing 9p,ā€ Jack Kearney, a videographer from New York, posted on X. ā€œIn a lodge full of tourists we didnā€™t get a heads up from staff. Most of us werenā€™t sure what to do.ā€

Carolyn Campbell, the president of the local Edmonton Community College, wrote on X that after nearly three hours of driving, she’d crossed just four miles due to traffic jams. ā€œWe heard mobile gas stations are being set up, weā€™re ok but we know friends are almost out of gas, and folks are sharing same.ā€Ģżshe wrote.

Stephanie Goetz, an Ontario resident, was on vacation in the national park when she awoke to a notification on her phone. “It was absolutely shocking. We didn’t realize how close it was to Jasper,” she told the . “When we were stopped, there was tons of cars behind us. And really realizing how close those cars had been to that fire … There’s a much larger fire south of us. I can’t imagine how that’s going to impact Jasper.”

Alberta residents are no strangers to wildfire, and over the years the province has seen multiple mega-fires rage across its borders. In 2016 a raging fire forced the evacuation of Fort McMurray in Northern Albertaā€”88,000 people had to flee oncoming flames, the largest evacuation in Alberta’s history. The fire eventually burned more than 2,000 homes and buildings.

In recent years wildfire has had dramatic impacts across Canada.ĢżAfter smoke from the worst fire season in Canadian history poured into the Eastern United States in 2023, warned that this current year could see even more wildfire activity.

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