It has been said that marriage is like a double black diamond: thrilling, challenging, rewarding, and not without its bumps. Okay maybe that hasn’t been said but I’m saying it now. After the flurry of weddings that dominated summers in our late 20s and early 30s my friends and I have reached the age where a couple dominoes might start to fall. After all, not every double black diamond run ends well. When our first friend got divorced it seemed the only logical thing to do was join him in Salt Lake City for a surgical strike. A long weekend of spring shredding.

The week before Matt had sent us pictures of himself snowboarding in shorts and a tank top. We knew spring skiing was different, but after countless winters on the icy hills of the east coast we were hoping for some powder. The snow gods, perhaps sensing the healing such pow might provide, granted us a late April storm that blanketed the Wasatch Range. My friend Will and I hopped on a plane with the sole purpose of optimizing our time on the slopes for the 60 hours we’d be on the ground.

Of course, the snow gods could not account for how out of practice Will and I were. We got off to a rough start. On the first run I lost my pass. Will packed two gloves, but unfortunately they were both for his left hand. While I grabbed a new pass, Will raided the lost and found, and Matt waited, shaking his head and no doubt wondering how restorative this shred therapy might really be.It was all downhill from there. In a good way. If marriage is like a double black diamond friendship is a long and windy blue. As soccer teammates growing up we were nicknamed the three amigos. Partly because we were inseparable off the field, and partly because we were a killer line-up on it, understanding intuitively how to find each other and carve opposing defenses. Fast forward a few decades, several kids, a couple marriages, and a divorce, and we were still amigos, though the second we even touch a soccer pitch one of our hamstrings seems to pop. These days we're better off in the mountains.

The snow came down in fat, meandering flakes. We sidled up to the bar for lunchtime beers. We sliced through powder and chatted on the chairlift. We crashed on couches and ate hard-boiled eggs for breakfast. We hit the slopes again on day two, a bluebird morning that turned into a slushy afternoon. The skiing wasn’t always great but being together was. We couldn’t always be there for Matt, considering that we live across the country, but we could be there with him, enjoying another bend on the gratifying blue that is friendship.

As we sat in the hot tub after our final day of skiing, steam rising from our shoulders like the famed snow monkeys of Japan, the conversation turned to packing, and how much time, or lack thereof, we tend to spend on the endeavor. Matt recalled once hopping on a flight with the bare minimum of wallet, cell, and keys. Will commented that most of his packing is done in about two minutes. I admitted that I spent upwards of two hours packing for this trip.

If you have to ask why, then what follows is probably not for you. It is for those that take pleasure in carefully curating their gear, routinely auditing their apparel, and carrying on (no checked bags!) with pride. I packed accordingly.

Of course, that meant no wasting time at baggage claim. To carry on meant renting skis, boots, and poles, but outside of that I brought everything I would need for shredding and nothing I wouldn’t. Granted, as a gear obsessive, my list of “needs” is probably longer than most. In order to fit everything I essentially divided my packing in two categories—the travel kit and the ski kit—and fit it all into my Mystery Ranch 40L Duffel:

The travel kit featured everything I’d be wearing for getting to SLC and life off the mountain:

‍DUER No Sweat Jogger - As stretchy, streamlined, and comfortable as a jogger, as durable and sharp-looking as your favorite jeans. The drawstring makes these some of the most versatile travel pants, whether you’re in transit, at a brewery, or out to dinner.

‍Stio Whitebark Tee - Breathable organic cotton makes this an exceptional travel tee.

‍66 North Viðey Hoodie - I packed a travel pillow and then removed it when I recalled how voluminous and cozy the hood of the Viðey is. The shearling recycled wool swallowed me up and despite being someone who has trouble sleeping on planes I napped on both flights. Absurdly comfortable.

‍Stio x Skida Brim Hat - A collab from companies based in Wyoming and Vermont, this is mountain steez in a hat. 

‍All-Weather Pull-On Storm Boot - The ease of these low cut pull-on boots combined with the waterproofing made them ideal for both flying and slushy parking lot beers.

‍Reigning Champ High Gauge Swim Short - For hot tub recovery sessions. 

‍North Face Base Camp Mule - Slip-on recovery footwear for navigating to and from said recovery sessions.

‍Smith Venture Sunglasses - Glacier sunglasses with unreal optics. When Matt’s goggles wouldn’t stop fogging up he rocked these on the slopes and didn’t want to return them. He even wore them through lunch in the lodge, probably so I wouldn’t seize the opportunity to reclaim them. 
‍Topo Designs Mountain Socks - Warm. ‘Nuff said.

The ski kit included: