Being the oldest in outdoor adventures has never bothered me. In 2012, the kids in my Wilderness Leadership course nicknamed me “Mama,” short for “Mountain Mama,” and I loved it. Now I’m a grandmother who has recently taken up splitboarding.
Last winter, I joined an Introduction to Backcountry course and completed the training, but something wasn’t the same—I couldn’t summon my usual level of enthusiasm. Like my body, my stoke had been slowly deteriorating. Now it was gone, and I needed to know why.
After days of pondering, it hit me one night at 2 a.m. It wasn’t that I hadn’t kept up with the others in the backcountry, or didn’t ride as well—it was the pressure I’d placed on myself to be the best. “Never be the weak link!” This was a deep belief I’d held since battling enemies on the playground in a game of Red Rover.
The following week, after carefully researching avalanche conditions, I ventured out on my splitboard south of Lake Tahoe near Carson Pass. The allure of a sunny February day in the Sierra Nevada backcountry beckoned and I couldn’t resist the urge. My skins sang as I glided among trees bundled up in white puffy coats of snow. An hour later, I emerged above treeline to glimpse a cloudless blue sky. The afternoon sun warmed my face and turned the snow to diamonds.
Red Lake Peak took my breath away. I moved slower at elevation, struggling to summit, and stopping often to sip water and soak up the seductive landscape. The peak is wind-scoured and rocky and it took forever to transition into ride mode. But there, just after the first toe turn, my spirits lifted. I shed tears of joy and let out a whoop that echoes through the canyon.
I hadn’t shredded the gnarliest peak or backflipped along the steepest chute. Heck, what I’d done wasn’t even worthy of an Instagram reel, but at the bottom of Red Lake Peak, I’d found it! My stoke! It was hidden in the Carson Range between twisted junipers, bowing their snowy heads, welcoming me back.
If we’re lucky, we live long enough for our bodies to decline. Like trees in winter, we learn to bend, not break. A determined spirit, sometimes called stoke, is what helps us find passion through life’s adventures.
Stoke is a celebration of self, a testament to the joy of participating rather than the pressure of competing. It transcends the ego-driven pursuits of outdoing others, helping us find beauty in the simple act of being part of the mountain, finding our own path and embracing moments with gratitude. Stoke is about honoring the journey, with its limitations and triumphs. It’s a gentle yet powerful reminder that the value of our endeavors lies not in the accolades we receive but in the fulfillment we derive from them.