There’s a funny thing about running a ski shop.
People walk through our doors thinking about flex numbers, cuff alignment, foam density, and the thousand tiny details that make a ski boot feel like an extension of your body. And we love that. That’s our craft.
But the rest of the year, when the last appointment is done, when the boot heaters are off, when May rolls around, we go north. Way north.
For the past five summers, Elaine and I have lived in the Brooks Range from May to September, moving on foot and by packraft through one of the last great intact ecosystems left on Earth. We’ve crossed rivers on foot, walked drainages most people have never heard of, paddled the headwaters of the Noatak and the Ambler, and felt the ground thrum beneath migrating caribou.
Being out there changes how you see winter, how you see skiing, how you see the world, and how you think about running a business in the outdoor industry.
We don’t want to be “just a ski shop.”
Skiing isn’t just a sport. It’s a relationship with mountains, snow, weather, and community. And if all we ever did was sell boots, we’d be missing the heart of what matters.
The places that give us winter - the mountains, the rivers, the snowpack - are changing fast. Anyone who skis has felt it. The freeze–thaw cycles. The avalanche patterns that no longer match the textbooks. The layers that didn’t used to form. The storms that come in too warm. The ones that don’t come at all.
And it’s all connected to what’s happening in the Arctic.
The Arctic is warming four times faster than the rest of the planet. Caribou migrations are shifting. Permafrost is thawing. And oil and gas expansion, particularly in the National Petroleum Reserve–Alaska (NPR-A), is accelerating at a pace most people never hear about.
What happens up there shapes everything down here.
A moment we’ve never forgotten
Two summers ago, we found ourselves in the community hall in Anaktuvuk Pass. ConocoPhillips had flown in a team to explain drilling plans to the Nunamiut, the Indigenous community whose entire existence is tied to the caribou.
For two hours, representatives explained mitigation plans, road proposals, rubber matting for ATV trails, grant opportunities.
The elders listened quietly. Then they talked about caribou numbers declining, about herds arriving later and later each year, about freezers going empty.
Younger people said they wanted a road to the Haul Road, not because they support drilling, but because they wanted access to jobs and opportunities.
One of the corporate reps, a guy who clearly loved the Brooks Range, looked like he was sweating bullets. He knew how complex it all was. Everyone in that room did.
And sitting there, we realized something we already knew but hadn’t said out loud:
If we’re going to run a business built on the joy of winter, we have a responsibility to help protect the places that make winter possible.
Why the Arctic matters to skiing
Think about what skiing relies on:
– cold winters
– stable snowpacks
– predictable storm tracks
– intact mountains and forests
– rivers and ecosystems that function the way they’re meant to
The Arctic is the engine room for all of that.
If you climb in Boulder Canyon or ski in the Indian Peaks or stand at the top of Eldora on a bluebird day, the weather patterns that shape those moments start far, far to the north.
When the Arctic breaks, winter breaks. And we lose more than snow. We lose the stories, culture, and meaning that tie us to these places in the first place.
So what are we doing about it?
We’re not making a big announcement today, not yet. But we are taking a stand.
Over the next few months, we’ll be launching a new direction for Larry’s that we’ve been calling, quietly, Boots for the Wild.
It’s not a marketing campaign.
It’s not a “green” badge.
It’s not performative.
It’s a commitment.
A commitment to:
- teach people about the Arctic through our stories and photos
- support organizations doing on-the-ground conservation work
- give our community easy, tangible ways to get involved
- advocate for policies that protect the wild places that shape skiing
Because if you love skiing, you already care about the environment, whether you’ve named it that way or not.
How you can act today
Here are two simple, high-impact actions you can take that will help protect the Arctic right now:
1. Submit a comment on the NPR-A lease sale
This is one of the biggest Arctic decisions happening this year, and one of the easiest ways to be heard. Comments must be submitted by November 21.
[Link to the Federal Register notice / BLM comment instructions]
Use your voice. Your words matter more than you think.
2. Learn from people doing the work
Kit Deslauriers’ Beyond the Summit project with Protect Our Winters is an incredible resource for understanding the stakes of Arctic conservation:
https://protectourwinters.org/beyond-the-summit/
She made an amazing ski film that explains why the arctic matters that you watch here:
Why we care
We care because the Arctic has taken us in.
Because we’ve walked its valleys, paddled its rivers, and talked story with the people who live there.
Because we’ve followed fresh wolf tracks across a river bar.
Because we’ve watched a line of caribou stretch to the horizon.
Because we’ve seen how fragile, and how strong, this place is.
Running a ski shop means being part of a community that loves mountains, snow, and wild places. And loving those places means speaking up for them.
More stories soon.
More photos.
More ways to act.
Thanks for caring.
Thanks for reading.
And thanks for loving winter as much as we do.
— Dan & Elaine