They said we were too young. They said the mountains were too big. They were wrong.

Levi (ski-vi?)

Some kids learn to ski before they can walk. Not me. I started my "career" at the ripe old age of 9, pizza-slicing down the magic carpet at Summit like it was an Olympic event. But hey, gotta risk it for the biscuit, right?

From those humble beginnings terrorizing Summit West, I quickly graduated to threading trees at Summit East, then shocked my parents (and myself) by dropping into Upper International at Alpental by season two. By year three, I'd joined the race team, sent it down the Summit Chute at Crystal's Powder Bowl, and somehow convinced my dad that skiing volcanoes in summer was a normal hobby for a 12-year-old.

Currently pursuing my PhD in Suffering with a concentration in glacier travel and a minor in "why is it so cold up here?" When the going gets tough, I keep things spicy with hot sauce breaks on the skin track.

Inspired by legends like Nico Schirmer, Ryan Mitchell, and Rise and Alpine. I'm proof that you don't need to start young to send it hard. Just ask anyone who's seen me go from pizza to pow in three seasons flat.

Young skier. Big mountains. Epic stories. Hot sauce included.