Last February was a February to remember. Being in the white room for almost 28 days straight created a stoke in Jackson that hadn’t been felt all season. The only thing that could make it better was when the world went blue on March 1 and the snowpack began to settle. Rad called me on March 5, just as I was coming back from a hut trip on Baldy Knoll, asking if I was game for a big day. Naturally, any chance I had to ski with Rad was a special day so I dried out my gear and rallied to amass all the food I would need for our mission the following day.
Our 4:00 am wake up came quick for me but not for Rad. As he so often was, Rad was so amped about the day we had ahead of us he barely got any sleep at all, and in my early am daze, his vibrant “morning!” was far more effective at waking me then the tea I was trying to choke down.
Rad was the kind of guy that always started by your side and then following a 45 minute slide up the skin track was inevitably at least 50 yards ahead of you. When I finally caught up to him, he was munching on a red apple. Between my breaths I squeezed out the words, “sorry, little slick down there” to which Rad replied in his goofy laid back style, “no worries man, we’ve got all day.”
Rad was right, we did have all day. By 11 am we had skinned up past Delta Lake to the base of the Tewee glacier - the thrown room of the Tetons. We paused again for some water and a snack as we transitioned and prepared to start up the boot pack. Rad looked around for a few minutes then to me. “I’ve wanted to do this line for a long time… be up here… thank you man.” I was touched because he didn’t need me to do this line. He was a far more knowledgeable ski mountaineer and it was all I could do to keep up with him, yet he still get grateful. That was Rad. He never missed an opportunity to tell you he was grateful for you. I shrugged and replied “Dude thank you, this is already an all time day and we still have 2500 ft of boot pack ahead of us.” Rad smiled back, “yea sorry I’m moving so slow, I had several PBRs last night.” I laughed and said, “fuck you” but in the way that really means “god I love you man.”
We topped out at the top of the boot pack, Rad once again leading the way. Tall Boy Couloir is a remote and committing line nestled into the saddle between Teewinot and the East Prong on Mt Owen. In other words, it’s way up there. It doesn’t see nearly as much traffic as other Teton classics do to the mileage and elevation demands, so it came as no surprise that we had it to ourselves. Rad and I walked around the saddle for a bit, soaked in the sun, snapped some pictures, ate a sandwich (Rad’s bagel looked so much better than my boring turkey sandwich) and then prepared for our decent.
Looking down Tall Boy Couloir, you feel the gravity and significance of a Teton line. The levity of the climb up lifted and was replaced by a palpable tension, the tension of focus. We slowly and methodically worked our way down the Couloir, skiing down roughly 20 meter sections then pulling off behind rock outcroppings to avoid the onslaught of slough that followed. Rad had an effective jump turn and seeing him move down the terrain was inspiring. A man in his element. Happy and confident, his skill never wavered.
He opened up when we hit the apron. Not in a reckless way, but rather in a manner that is refreshing to the legs when they ache from skiing on edge for too long. We party-lapped through the waist of the line down to the bottom of Cascade Canyon. The sun was out, there was no wind. As we looked back up, we didn’t speak for 5 minutes. All we could do was stare at the massive line above us.
“Well, only 7 miles to go.” Shattering the silence, Rad reminded me that we still had a long slog out of the canyon and back across the flats to Bradley-Taggert. “No worries man, we’ve got all day,” I mirrored back. Rad smiled, “Now you’re getting it! And we haven’t even talked about your love life yet!”
I laughed and as we transitioned we dove head first into conversation. Unfinished conversations we had had earlier that morning, as well as new conversations about faith, work and life. Sometimes minutes would pass between topics but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence with Rad, it never was. It was a grateful silence. I admired how he was content to absorb the day and never felt pressured to rush it along with needless conversation. And per usual, Rad was right… I was “getting it.” At the end of the day, my feet were blistered and I had exhausted my supply of water and food, as had Rad. Of course, he never mentioned anything regarding his discomfort and pushed through effortlessly to the parking lot pointing out lines to me the whole way back.
At the car, Rad broke out a couple of Pacifico’s. We cheersed and sat on his tailgate looking back up at the Grand as the light of the day transitioned to dusk. “My feet look like shit,” I noted, “but I literally would go back out with you right now.” Rad laughed, “let’s go!” He said. A playful joke of a response but it would not have surprised me at all had that workhorse slung his pack over his shoulders and clicked in just for more time in the mountains he loved more than anything.
Since that day, the day that Rad introduced me to big Teton lines, we have gone on countless tours together. Some epic, some small, but always special because of Rad. He was a guy that somehow found time for all his friends, and still had the energy to go into the mountains or excel at work or do hot yoga. Rad helped sculpt my path in life and inspired me countless times with his kindness and generosity… as well as his dance moves. I miss you everyday Rad. You were a light in this world who touched so many souls, and I feel incredibly lucky to have been able to call you my friend. I love you brother.
See you bassoon,
Noah