In January 1994, my sophomore college roommate, Caleb, and I bought one way tickets to Vail Colorado, on a mission to be ski bums. We each had a suitcase, skis, and $300 in cash. No cell phones. No internet. No job. No house. No plan.
You can read the first part here: My YOLO Vail Story – 19 Years Old With a One Way Ticket and No Plan
It was the greatest adventure and craziest decision of my life. It left me with a profound love of the mountains, especially the Gore Range.
Our house was nestled by Gore Creek in East Vail, just beneath the Bighorn Creek trailhead. A cozy A-frame with a fireplace, it sat at an elevation of 8,500 feet. The backyard was a massive 2,700-foot hillside, stretching up to 11,200 feet – the forested front side of Vail’s east back bowls.
Almost every night after work, I’d run home five miles, alone down the frontage road into East Vail under the stars. The dry snow on the road would crunch beneath me, and I’d run in silence, no music or headphones, with the moon hanging above me, and the Gore Range looming in the shadows. The peaks of Vail’s iconic range kept me company on those runs, and they watched Caleb and me ski every day from across the valley on the slopes. I started to call them my friends, and I still think of them that way.
It’s wild when a mountain range is just there. Like a compass. In the winter. Summer. Sun and the rain. They were there before me, they are there right now, and they’ll be there when I’m gone. And for my time in Vail, they were my guide home under the stars every night in the dead of winter in the middle of Colorado.
On June 8, 2023, almost thirty years later, I finally went back to say hello to the Gores.
Hiking up to say hello to the Gore Range’s Grand Traverse was the only item on my bucket list.
There are two routes up into the Gores: one is the Bighorn Creek Trail and the other is Deluge Lake Trail. I always planned to do Deluge Lake because it allows for a non-technical ascent up the back slope up to the top of the Grand Traverse. The Bighorn Creek route is awesome since it goes straight to the front of the peak face as if you’re just walking there from Vail, but the ascent is a too technical for me without a guide.
The last week Caleb and I were in Vail, back in 1994, we went snowshoeing in the backcountry for a day. We were in great shape and were very comfortable with the weather and snow condition. I didn’t even pay attention at the time, but when I went back to look at the pictures, it turns out we snowshoed Deluge Lake trail… in April. There was significantly more snow than June, but it was also still packed and not postholing.
My opportunity to return to Vail finally came in 2023 thanks to a platform vendor meeting at the Sonnenalp. This was an incredible chance that allowed me to afford to go back, but unfortunately did not let me choose the timing. Mid-June is still pretty snowy in the backcountry at altitude.
My hope was still to do the Deluge Lake Trail, because it would get me to the top, however the weather was not cooperating. The trail would require me to posthole (sink into the snow up to my knees, even with snowshoes) for hours in the dark.
I called a guide and they said they’d do it, but it would absolutely miserable. To make things worse, avalanche danger ruled out a summit up the back slope. The guide had summited peaks all over the world (including Everest), and said this would be the worst trip imaginable with no payoff nor views. We’d leave at midnight, our feet would be soaked within the first 30 minutes, we’d be hiking through running water almost the entire time, post-holing, and the only thing I’d gain from the trip from it is pride that I didn’t quit.
Thirty-years later, despite having several sentimental attachments to the Deluge Lake approach, I switched plans and decided to hike up the front using Bighorn Creek Trail.
When I arrived in Vail, I had two days in town before my free day to hike. I had a few changes to walk through Vail Village to see the Gores and mentally prepare for the hike to go see them!
Over the course of those first few days of meetings, I made friends with the workers at the Sonnenalp. They reminded me of myself as a kid, and we became immediate buddies. They not only offered to drive me to the trailhead for my hike, but stop at my old house on the way to say hello!
From there we went to the trailhead, where I strapped my snowshoes onto my backpack and headed up through the aspens and pine trees toward the Gores.
Along the way, on the switchbacks, I was able to find our old house several times. It’s a pretty steep climb the entire way along the trail.
The hike was magical. I was all alone and I only saw one person during the entire trip.
After the aspens there was gorgeous pine forest full of babbling brooks of melting snow, followed by a large scree field.
Slowly the snow grew from patches to a blanket and finally I lost the trail.
At 10,500 feet I had to switch to snowshoes and use GPS to navigate the woods (see arrow).
About a half mile from my goal, I started hearing the distinct single repeating chirp of a mountain lion. I stumbled upon a really cool cave. Then I came upon a ton of fresh paw prints.
With no cell service, alone in the woods, and three hours since I had seen a person… I forgot about the infinitesimal odds of the mountain lion harming me, and decided to call it a day and start heading down the mountain.
When I got back, I called an Uber and decided to spend the rest of the day visiting all my old favorite spots.
My first stop was the location of Trails End Lodge, where I worked as a ski bum 30 years earlier.
Trails End was torn down long ago and is now the Vail Chophouse.
A cool guy around my age was playing guitar and singing, so I asked him if he remembered Trails End. He not only remembered but he had been playing in Vail since then, and knew all of the singers I worked with when I was there. Even cooler, he was Phil Long, owner of the Chophouse! I told Phil all about my adventures, my time in Vail, and my hike up into the Gores earlier that morning.
Perhaps the neatest private moment was a few minutes later when I was back at my seat drinking my ice tea. Over the microphone, Phil asked me to stand up and told the entire crowd to “I’d like you all to raise your glasses and toast to Ethan. You’re looking at a real deal OG Vail ski bum who did it the hard way and is part of this town’s history. ” And everybody clapped and I felt like the town was reflecting my love for it back to me, in an authentic way. A moment that would pass, but I’d get to hold in my heart forever. That was the nicest gesture by Phil to give me some love.
From there I decided to visit our favorite chairlift. Every morning in 1994, Caleb and I would do one warm-up run on Born Free before we headed out to the back bowls. Employees got a 45 minute head start on the chair lifts, so we literally got first tracks every day for almost 100 days that season.
It was a lot more emotional than I expected. So even though I was tired from my morning hike, I decided to walk up Born Free and savor my favorite ski run with no snow, exposed and vulnerable.
As the sunset, I hiked back down and decided to walk home through the town in the dark and see what memories popped up.
That night I treated myself to ice cream alone at the bar at the hotel. I decided to say hi to the guy next to me. He was the Mayor of St Anton am Arlberg, the legendary ski town in Austria! He had just signed an agreement to form a sister city partnership and exchange with the town of Vail. I told him about my Hungarian background, that my grandmother crossed the alps on foot during WWII, and that St Anton has been on my list for 20+ years. He gave me a town pin (!) and his business card and told to find him for drinks when I come to visit. Best part… when I left I said congratulations in German…and he casually said goodbye in Hungarian! It’s always good to be friendly. What a fun moment!
As I was walking around town before leaving to return home, I noticed an aspen with “YOLO” carved into its bark. It made me realize the most YOLO thing I’ve ever done was go to Vail with a one-way plane ticket, no job, no house, and no plan.
Since those days as a kid in Vail, I’ve become a husband and a father, and my “YOLO” opportunities are fewer and further between. However, for years, whenever my kids call me on the phone, I’ve always answered “YOLO” as my greeting. And they’ve done the same. Mostly because I’m being a silly dad, but also to encourage them to take risks, not overthink things, and when in doubt make memories.
Before my dad died in 2022, I bought us both The Daily Stoic, a fun book with quotes from the Stoics to read each day. As I would read the quotes to my kids, I realized that the Stoics core themes align closely to “You only live once”.
Imagine my surprise this year when my daughter Rori decided she wanted to go to Boulder for college!
Whether it’s The Stoics, choosing a college, getting married, having kids, “You only live once.”
I spent the last three years reflecting on this after my dad died and also with my dear friend Mike, who died of cancer in June.
When my dad died, I had to decide how I felt about death. Mike called me the next day, and ask me to walk with him for the next three years as he approached death was a big challenge, because I was at a very dark point. Mike didn’t want me to sugarcoat my feelings.
Mike wanted me to be his travel companion through the end. That set us up for a cinematic journey, where Mike would decline and see things in ways I couldn’t. And I’d talk a big talk, but be healthy as he fell apart.
Mike healed broken things in me that I never knew could be fixed. He gave me a foundation for the remaining years of my life. He lives in both my heart and my mind, and he keeps me safe, warm, and calm. Mike gave me peace.
Mike also underscored the Stoics and YOLO to remind me that we only live once and we can’t take it with us.
So when Rori asked that before she left for college we get YOLO tattoos together, I assume you know what I said….
Turn up your sound for The Cult “She Sells Sanctuary” which I discovered for the first time as an LP in Frank Shorter’s house in East Vail on the record player.
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