Our athletes know this feeling well. Skiers, snowboarders, mountain bikers, and alpinists are shaped by the landscapes they move through. The mountains challenge them. The storms harden them. The trails teach them. Being rooted is more than knowing where you come from—it’s about embracing the places that push you to grow.
We asked our team to share the places and people that inspire them to pursue their passions. Their stories offer a glimpse into their world and the deep connections that keep them Rooted.
Max Djenohan
Being rooted in the PNW means being ready for whatever Mother Nature can throw your way. The PNW doesn't give it up easily—every summit, tour, climb, and access point to the wilderness requires work. You must be willing to put in the work necessary to see your aspirations come to fruition. Being a 4th generation Seattleite, I come from a long line of hardy folks built to endure the challenges of our rugged coasts and jagged peaks.
The catalyst that reinforced my connection to the PNW and the Cascades was when I hiked the Washington section of the Pacific Crest Trail. 550 miles in 30 days, with no days off. This journey through the Cascade Crest was one of the most formative expeditions of my life and what set me on the path I am now on. The journey reinforced true accountability because nobody was going to put in miles for me.
When it comes to the challenges of the PNW. I've become a product of my environment—indifferent to things I can't control (i.e., the weather), dedicated to what I can control (i.e., my objective), and the power to know the difference. It's not always sunshine and rainbows in the PNW when I have an objective, project, or line to ride. I need to be able to adapt, pivot, and or train for that objective until the opportunity arises to execute.
The literal ups and downs of mountain climbing, skiing, and outdoor pursuits parallel that of life and sport. To get to the proverbial summit, you have to start at the bottom, overcoming obstacles to achieve whatever physical or metaphorical summit you're pursuing. To finally reach that summit or goal, just see that there's a sea of peaks and goals to continue to push for.
You can't live on that summit—you have to go down. And it's up to you to push for another one. True growth comes from the journey, not the destination.
Being rooted in my passion is being rooted in the outdoors. Throughout my journey, being able to come back to the basics of communing with nature at any level is what keeps me grounded.
Beth Rodden
I don't just view the Sierras as a place where I live and work—I view it as a place where I feel at home. A place where my senses are both heightened and inspired, yet so familiar, calming, and peaceful. It's knowing the smells, feels, and sights well but never tiring or lacking excitement. It has shaped where I am today by drawing me in, weaving through my goals and ambitions, and creating a bigger appreciation than just sport.
The Sierras are where I can both slow down and speed up. I love seeing the sunrise, the sunset, and everything in between. Standing on the top of a climb, a peak—and seeing the intricate and complex systems that make the Sierras amazing is one of the best feelings. Seeing the birds catch the wind, the streams flow into the rivers, the talus below the cliffs—it always reminds me how much there is to explore.
From boulders to alpine peaks, the vast expanse of opportunities and terrain forces me to adapt—bring out all my tricks and help. From storms to heat and easy to hard, the Sierras have it all and force me to be prepared.
It keeps me grounded and reminds me that real growth, change and challenge don't happen overnight. It slows me down and humbles me.
Passion isn't fleeting. It isn't counting likes or impressions, it's woven through me, it's the fabric of who I am. I want it to be with me for the long haul. It wakes me in the morning, sparks creativity, strengthens relationships, and surrounds everything I do. Being rooted in my passion reminds me that it can burn as brightly from when I started until I'm old and grey if I'm lucky. That's my guiding light, not some fleeting accomplishment, but I want to love it as much as the day I started until the end.
Graham Zimmerman
I fell in love with the mountains and learned to climb in the Cascades. In high school, I was on a rope team moving slowly up Glacier Peak when a skier passed by, moving effortlessly on a touring setup. That moment completely shifted my perspective—I saw what it meant to move efficiently and fluidly through the mountains, and it planted a seed for how I wanted to engage with these landscapes. Also, my first time ice climbing on the east side of the Cascades above the Methow Valley was a foundational moment that solidified my love for technical climbing and set me on the path I’ve followed ever since.
Though I spent many years away, I moved to Bend a decade ago and now live in the rain shadow of the Oregon Cascades. This range offers incredible adventure in a relatively accessible package—certainly more accessible than the Pakistani Karakoram, where much of my career has been focused. The climbing here is excellent, as is the ski mountaineering and rock climbing. Now, as we start a family, I’m finding even more meaning in investing time and energy into these mountains.
Big mountain climbing requires adaptability—constantly assessing conditions, adjusting strategies, and making decisions in unpredictable environments. The Cascades offer that same kind of challenge but on a smaller scale. I’ve always seen them as an ideal training ground for the larger alpine objectives I’ve pursued in places like the Karakoram. The constantly shifting weather, technical terrain, and remote feel make this range an incredible place to develop mountain sense.
Climbing—the activity and the community around it—has been foundational for me. It’s how I’ve come to understand challenge, connection, and purpose. No matter the highs or lows, returning to the mountains and the people who share this passion always brings me back to center. The mountains teach patience, resilience, and the ability to stay present in the face of uncertainty. They’ve given me a framework for approaching challenges, not just in climbing but in all aspects of life.
Georgia Astle
Growing up with the Coastal Mountains of British Columbia as my playground made me feel comfortable in otherwise uncomfortable and rugged terrain. Being a little grommet dressed in hand-me-down ski gear, just barely warm and dry enough to make it through a day of ski school. Climbing up burly technical rooty trails in bike camp on my mom’s borrowed bike that weighed more than I did. Although tough in the moment, these memories ultimately shaped my headspace and love for pushing a little further during a race or being able to withstand some mountain weather in the backcountry.
My dad and I would go up Peak Chair at Whistler and look for new pockets and rideable zones on the ride back out. He would mark the successes in his GPS, and when we would get cliffed out or come across too big of a creek crossing we’d end up hiking out the way we came until jumping back on the ski out. My favourite tree zones are a mix of huge Douglas Firs, Yellow Cedars, and Pines, and lower down, you get into the second and third-growth saplings––you have to find a decent exit before getting caught deciduous and poplar bashing.
Mountain biking in the Coastal Mountains is really more valley biking. Our terrain is so rugged and trees so dense that it takes a solid push to get into the alpine when the ideal trail building is lower down. The granite rock and endless roots have made me appreciate chunky technical riding. Learning to adapt and do what you can with the given elements is a pretty spot-on approach to riding bikes and life in general. Be as prepared as you can and ready to pivot plans, but don’t let the uncontrollable factors ruin your day!
I feel so connected within the community of others who are also stuck in their passions for the same reasons. I can go out for a social ride for fun, a solo ride to feel recharged, or a training ride. There are so many options and ways to make my passion my outlet and escape.
Tom van Steenbergen
Being rooted in the Okanagan Valley, British Columbia means connecting to nature in a way that constantly inspires and challenges me. The rugged mountains and endless trails have shaped my career in a unique way. Every season brings new opportunities to push myself. Whether it’s building new features in the perfect spring conditions or pushing my limits on the trails in the summer.
The unpredictable weather and rugged landscape of the Okanagan demand adaptability. One day, you’re battling intense heat on a dusty trail, and the next, a storm rolls in, turning the path into mud. Learning to embrace those shifts and adjust on the fly has made me a more resilient athlete and a more flexible person overall.
A defining moment for me was filming for my X Games Real MTB video in November. We had no choice but to battle the winter elements, pushing through freezing temperatures and unpredictable conditions to get the shots we needed. It was tough, but the struggle made us stronger, and it reinforced my connection to the Okanagan. That experience reminded me how much this landscape shapes who I am.
The outdoors constantly reminds me that growth comes from discomfort. Pushing through exhaustion or finding calm when things don’t go as planned mirrors life’s challenges. Nature has taught me that resilience isn’t about avoiding struggle but moving through it.
To be rooted in my passion means staying connected to everything I’ve overcome to get here. It’s about remembering the lowest moments, knowing I made it through, and coming out stronger than ever. I remind myself every day to keep doing the things that brought me to this point — staying focused, putting in the work, and never losing sight of why I started in the first place.
Zoe Atkin
Growing up in the Wasatch has shaped my whole life, including how I approach my sport. Skiing isn’t just how I exemplify my competitiveness, push my limits, and win medals. Skiing is my lifestyle. My passion for skiing is fueled by living in the mountains, surrounded by their might every day, inspiring me to reach for greater heights every day.
When I moved to Utah from the East Coast, I was confronted with a community that lived life outdoors. Smiling faces in the sun, families casually walking up mountains the size of which I’d never seen before. Just being able to live outside and find joy in nature exemplifies my connection to this place.
The mountains are constantly changing. Skiing in places like the Rockies, the Wasatch, or the Sierra forces me to adapt, whether adjusting my approach to a halfpipe run based on snow conditions or mentally staying sharp when visibility is low. The inherent unpredictability of the mountains has made me more adaptable, teaching me to embrace uncertainty and focus on what I can control.
Nature humbles you, forces patience, and reminds you that progress isn’t always linear. The mountains have taught me that setbacks, whether from injury or tough competition days, are just part of the process. You learn to ride the highs with gratitude and push through the lows, knowing that conditions—both literal and metaphorical—will shift again.
Being rooted in my passion means staying connected to why I started and why I continue. It’s easy to get caught up in competition results or external pressures. At the end of the day, skiing is something I love because of the feelings—the freedom, the creativity, the connection to the mountains. I stay grounded by surrounding myself with people who remind me of that, taking moments to appreciate where I am, and remembering that every challenge is just another step in the journey.
Ian Provo
The mountains and deserts of Utah have been my playground since the day my Pop and I pulled up our roots in Connecticut and re-settled in one of the greatest adventure venues on the planet. As a thirteen-year-old boy, I could have never imagined how this landscape would become my foundation for a life and career in the outdoors. Looking back two decades, the influence it has had is undeniable. Firmly established in Utah now, I have the confidence and aspirations to branch out and experience other parts of the world, planting little seeds wherever I go in hopes that new roots will take hold.
When my brothers and I first arrived in Utah, our Pop wasted no time taking us on a road trip around the state to get familiar with our new home. Our eyes had never seen such wild terrain before. Touring from one mind-boggling spot to the next, catching glimpses of places that would one day become obsessions.
From scalding summer heat waves and drought in the desert to unfathomable snowstorms and winter seasons that can produce a thousand inches of snowfall in the alpine, there is no question that Utah is a dynamic and highly unpredictable region. Perfect for developing a variety of skills and a sense of adaptability needed for exploring distant lands.
Growing up in the outdoors has given me so much - everything from the most sacred, uplifting, and euphoric moments to the bone-crushing experiences of injury, survival, and the loss of friends. It's a life of extremes, no doubt. Because of those experiences, both good and bad, I feel resilient in any challenge I face. If I find myself getting soft, I need only think back to past hardships or triumphs in the outdoors to find inspiration to go harder.
While skiing was my original outdoor passion from a very young age, my love of sliding on snow branched out into many different paths and pursuits as I got older. It opened my eyes to other avenues where I could experience the same levels of exploration, creativity, and sense of freedom.
Sophia Rouches
Born and raised in the PNW, the Cascade Mountains have deeply shaped my skiing. The snow might be heavier than other mountain ranges, but that allows it to stick to the craggy mountains, forming pillow stacks and skiable steep faces. I learned early on that to ski in Washington, you have to have strong legs and be prepared for some "Cascade Concrete," but I really think that's what allows the terrain to be some of the best in the world.
I'll never forget the first time I slept in the snow. I was 16 and had barely been backpacking, let alone camped on a glacier. I took my mom's touring skis and the fly of my parents' tent, then toured up the Muir Snowfield on Rainier for the night. Alone, I spent the afternoon staring up at Mt. Rainier, listening to seracs crash, and watching the massive hanging glaciers. That was the moment I began to grasp the power of these mountains and the vastness of the Cascades. I was enamored with the skiable terrain I could see and knew I could spend the rest of my life exploring this range and still only scratch the surface.
The mountains always have unruly weather, but the PNW really has some of the worst. I learned early on that 33 degrees and raining can be both demoralizing and dangerous—but when the temperature drops just a few degrees, it can lead to some of the best ski days. I've embraced the "you don't know till you go" mentality, which has meant plenty of rain-soaked runs and failed missions, but it's also taught me resilience and to make the best out of the cards you're dealt.
The mountains have taught me a lot over the years. I remember being 15, standing on top of Mt. Hood after a long climb. At the time, it was the hardest physical feat I had ever accomplished––something I laugh at now because all the climbs up Hood since have felt like a walk in the park. But that experience taught me how much farther you can push your body past what you think is possible. Mental resilience is constantly tested in the mountains, and learning to push through the physical without letting your mind take over has shaped me in every aspect of my life.
Every time I've been sad, scared, or lost the joy of being in the mountains, I lean into what does make me happy––skiing. I feel most rooted in my passion when skiing around my home mountain with friends, hitting side hits, messing around, and not thinking about the external pressures of being a pro athlete.
Neil Provo
The Wasatch Mountains have shaped me into who I am today. Growing up here, I always stared out past the resort boundaries, dreaming of the untracked runs and the possibilities that awaited. The Wasatch are known for its steep, technical terrain and a notoriously variable snowpack with persistent weak layers that require patience and respect. They always keep me on my toes and have given me the perfect testing grounds to build the skills I need to explore the greater ranges on this planet. I'm continually evolving my knowledge to progress and ride more pow!
Cutting a snowboard in half to make my first splitboard completely changed my path and perspective out there. It opened up the doors to so many opportunities. The first splitboards were developed here in the Wasatch, and as a youngster, it only made sense to follow in the footsteps and skin tracks of those early pioneers.
Long, hard days in the mountains have taught me so much about who I am and what I can overcome. You never really know what you are capable of until you put yourself to the test. For me, being outdoors forces me to adapt, push beyond my comfort zone, and think critically to achieve the best outcome. The way I interact with mountains is the same approach I try to apply to my everyday life––finding joy around every corner, embracing uncertainty, and respecting my environment and surroundings.
Snowboarding has always been my biggest passion. Creativity, freedom, adventure, and the pure joy of carving through fresh snow. It's a way to connect with nature's rhythm, keep my blood pumping, and always keep me searching for more. No matter where I go or where my journey takes me, my love for snowboarding in the mountains will always be there!
Bas van Steenbergen
Moving to British Columbia as a teenager from Holland and being in Okanagan resembled a dream for me. I would never have become the athlete I am today without moving to the mountains of interior B.C.
I’m constantly reminded, and my connection here is reinforced when I am out digging, riding, or just enjoying this beautiful place I get to call home. Having spent most of my career chasing races and results, it’s so important to have all these different elements as a training ground and prepare for anything. It’s not really an option to sit inside while the conditions are less than ideal.
Living in the mountains and overcoming challenges, whether big or small, is a day-to-day thing. The more time I spend outdoors, whether riding or dealing with home life in the mountains, the more I learn to adapt to whatever comes my way.
Even though I will be forever grateful to be doing what I do on a daily basis, dealing with the highs and lows is probably the hardest thing in sports. Being rooted in the sport of mountain biking means I get to do what I love every single day, and I still love doing it. It’s my childhood dream to be rooted in this sport.
Damon Iwanaga
Living in Lake Tahoe has given me the chance to be reborn. I was raised in a small town and moved up north to Lake Tahoe, where I was freed from the city and able to explore the mountains. The amazing community and vast riding enabled me to find mountain biking and much more. I realized how much opportunity I had in the palm of my hands was when I first moved here. My roommates and I were able to snowboard right out my back door in the winter and hop on our bikes in the summer.
Thankfully, we have amazing weather in the Tahoe area most of the time. But every day isn't a bluebird day. Those rough days are the days you find yourself creating those lifelong memories. The rainy days provide wet dirt, and the snowy days and giving free refills are what produce amazing turns and big smiles. It shows you that sometimes you just have to push through a little grit to find that sunshine on a stormy day.
I find that I can't take anything for granted. When you live in such a beautiful place, it's very easy to forget how lucky I am to live where I do. On my way to work, there is a small glimpse of Lake Tahoe, and I like to use it as a little reminder that I am so fortunate to live here and that things could always be worse.
Micah Evangelista
Being rooted in the Pacific Northwest means so much to me. I was born and raised in the small town of Glacier at the foot of Mt. Baker, nestled in a remote corner of the North Cascades. The foothills of the mountain range quite literally rise from the backyard of my childhood home. Highway 542 traces the snaking body of the Nooksack River, fed by the glaciers of Mt. Baker and Mt. Shuksan. These iconic land features and the quaint, underdeveloped town I was raised in symbolize so much for me today. It has taught me about patience, gratitude, and connection. It also has given me a unique approach to skiing and traveling within the mountains. The record-breaking snowfall, complex ski terrain, and relatively consistent snowpack provide an unrivaled experience as a skier. The surrounding coniferous forests create a cathedral of old-growth trees that make it all too easy to get lost in. I have felt an inescapable pull toward the area my entire life, and no matter where I go, a large part of me will remain rooted in this place.
There isn't a single moment that defines my connection to this part of the Pacific Northwest. Instead, it's all of the unique and magical qualities of this environment that continuously build my connection to it. In my youth, I spent countless ski days at Mt. Baker with my brother Mattias, and that very much shaped my deep love for skiing, which I have today. Exploring the vast network of trails on my mountain bike has also shaped the way I appreciate and interact with the land. I try to appreciate every minute I can envelop myself in this area's natural beauty.
The weather of the Pacific Northwest can be a fickle beast. Temperatures hover around 30-32 degrees for much of the winter and can provide challenges, with snow often turning to rain. As our climate changes and temperatures continuously rise, I worry about the future state of this area for skiing. Even the slightest increase in average temperature could completely change our snowfall and glacial formations. Historically, the deep, heavy snow has created very strong skiers and snowboarders. I grew up having to navigate amongst the "Cascade Concrete," and I'm grateful for the way that has shaped my ski style and overall strength as a rider. I hope future generations will appreciate Mt. Baker's mashed potatoes in the same way I have been able to.
My connection to the outdoors has shaped me in just about every way. The environment and the sports within it have guided my relationships with others and myself. In times of stress and adversity, I find the outdoors to be a guiding and calming presence. It gives me perspective and a way to remain grounded in who I am and what I believe in. Being outdoors allows me to disconnect from the "self" and appreciate being a part of something immensely bigger. There is something really beautiful in that interconnectedness.
Being rooted in my passion means being grateful for every second I can spend time doing the activities I love. It's easy to get distracted by all the external factors within these sports. Whether it be pressures being reinforced by the industry or my own personal expectations and goals with creating a video project or doing photo shoots. Sometimes, it can feel like serious work, but when I take a step back and look at the world I'm existing in, I don't think it gets much better than this. Living with that appreciation makes every day in the mountains feel special. There will be injuries, setbacks, challenges, and failures along the way. I'm trying to use all of those experiences as new knowledge and appreciation to make my future as a skier and human being even better.