Being a creative soul, he has endless potential here for unique jumps and jibs. I struggle to stay locked into my tech bindings as we descend the solidified snowpack, but Adrian nonchalantly throws 180’s off of every hit he can piece together in one run.



Adrian lost his ski poles one-by-one over the course of his summertime adventures in the park, so our first stop before skiing was the campground’s appliance shed where he found some broomsticks as replacements. We drive up the Going to the Sun Road, park, and hoof our way past the defined trails and campgrounds. Past the onslaught of bear bell touting tourists who can’t grasp our ski carrying, the landscape of massive cliff faces with narrow waterfalls opens up. We make camp at the base of a glacier right before the rainstorm hits.

Dark clouds loom overhead as we tour on frozen, sun-cupped snow and climb around blue crevasses the next day. As poor as the ski conditions are, I can’t help but look around at all the glacial features and think that Adrian has found his ideal playground. Being a creative soul, he has endless potential here for unique jumps and jibs. I struggle to stay locked into my tech bindings as we descend the solidified snowpack, but Adrian nonchalantly throws 180’s off of every hit he can piece together in one run.

In a time when the ski industry manifests itself into an over-saturated market of “sponsor me” videos, elite posturing, and helicopters-filming-other-helicopters-filming-corporate-athletes-in-exotic-locations styled messaging, it’s comforting to know that wildcats still exist, under the radar, in Winnebagos, and on top of the next un-marked run.