Instagram Story Save

The final hike out was a long haul with a heavy load. I hope you are able to see more of what happened with this massive Bull elk in this post. The pool of water he fell into is deep but with cold temps and some snow the hole was hidden. Many years ago on my first trip up this icefall I too fell into this hidden water hole. There are actually three in a row that are often hidden. This bull lived a big life in some of the toughest country in North America. The stories he could tell continue to keep me dreaming of the life he lived. Everyone has their way of paying respect to these animals and this was my way.___________________________________________ #hunting #iceclimbing #elkhunting #wild #mountains #adventures #intothewild #roamtheplanet #meateater #teambronco_ambassador

I have hunted and roamed the mountains since I could walk. I have seen some incredible places and animals in my life. It bums me out this big bulls life was ended by making a simple mistake. But that is life in the mountains for both humans and animals. I share this story in honor of this magnificent bull. He lived a long life in some of the most rugged terrain in North America. I continue to imagine the things he had seen and been through. There is no doubt, he was king of the mountain. Never forget to fight for your public lands!___________________________________________ #hunting #iceclimbing #elkhunting #elk #adventure #mountains #mtntough #bonecollector #roamtheplanet

There is always more to the story than just some click bait. But wow the comments section on the original post is entertaining. I will tell the story in a series of posts and we have a podcast scheduled to dive deeper into the story and thoughts on what happened to the elk on the Coldfear podcast. You spend enough time in the mountains and you’re gonna see and find some crazy things. ____________________________________________ #hunting #iceclimbing #shedhunting #elkhunting #meateater #mountains #hunt

For many years, whitewater kayaking exploration became my obsession as the ice melted and winter loosened its grip on the mountains. I loved how different it was from climbing, how it demanded everything from you all at once. Mentally, physically, emotionally. In a kayak there is no standing still, no long pause to calculate every move. The river forces decisions instantly, and if you make the wrong one, the consequences come hard and fast.

What pulled me in most was the exploration. Sliding into canyons and rivers that few people had ever seen, let alone paddled..made me feel fully alive. There was something sacred about disappearing into those places with your friends, carrying everything you needed, not fully knowing what waited downstream. Fear, uncertainty, excitement… it all blended together into this feeling that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. There was no satellite button to push to bring you back to safety. I chased that feeling for years. I lived off it. It was fuel for me.

The truth is, kayaking and ice climbing became more than sports to me. They were an escape when life felt heavy and hard to carry. Out there, nothing else mattered except surviving the moment directly in front of you. All the noise of life disappeared. That feeling became addictive. It was the only place I felt fully free.

Looking back now, I know I’m incredibly lucky to still be alive. There were too many close calls. Too many moments where things could have gone differently by inches or seconds. And over time, the losses started piling up too. Friends disappearing from the community. Empty spaces where people once stood. Those hits stay with you. They change you.

I’m deeply thankful for those years and for the life the river gave me. It shaped who I am. It taught me resilience, commitment, courage, and how small we really are in wild places. But eventually I had to be honest with myself. I knew I couldn’t keep chasing the level of experiences I wanted forever and expect to survive it. Something had to change. (Read the rest below in comments)

For many years, whitewater kayaking exploration became my obsession as the ice melted and winter loosened its grip on the mountains. I loved how different it was from climbing, how it demanded everything from you all at once. Mentally, physically, emotionally. In a kayak there is no standing still, no long pause to calculate every move. The river forces decisions instantly, and if you make the wrong one, the consequences come hard and fast.

What pulled me in most was the exploration. Sliding into canyons and rivers that few people had ever seen, let alone paddled..made me feel fully alive. There was something sacred about disappearing into those places with your friends, carrying everything you needed, not fully knowing what waited downstream. Fear, uncertainty, excitement… it all blended together into this feeling that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. There was no satellite button to push to bring you back to safety. I chased that feeling for years. I lived off it. It was fuel for me.

The truth is, kayaking and ice climbing became more than sports to me. They were an escape when life felt heavy and hard to carry. Out there, nothing else mattered except surviving the moment directly in front of you. All the noise of life disappeared. That feeling became addictive. It was the only place I felt fully free.

Looking back now, I know I’m incredibly lucky to still be alive. There were too many close calls. Too many moments where things could have gone differently by inches or seconds. And over time, the losses started piling up too. Friends disappearing from the community. Empty spaces where people once stood. Those hits stay with you. They change you.

I’m deeply thankful for those years and for the life the river gave me. It shaped who I am. It taught me resilience, commitment, courage, and how small we really are in wild places. But eventually I had to be honest with myself. I knew I couldn’t keep chasing the level of experiences I wanted forever and expect to survive it. Something had to change. (Read the rest below in comments)

For many years, whitewater kayaking exploration became my obsession as the ice melted and winter loosened its grip on the mountains. I loved how different it was from climbing, how it demanded everything from you all at once. Mentally, physically, emotionally. In a kayak there is no standing still, no long pause to calculate every move. The river forces decisions instantly, and if you make the wrong one, the consequences come hard and fast.

What pulled me in most was the exploration. Sliding into canyons and rivers that few people had ever seen, let alone paddled..made me feel fully alive. There was something sacred about disappearing into those places with your friends, carrying everything you needed, not fully knowing what waited downstream. Fear, uncertainty, excitement… it all blended together into this feeling that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. There was no satellite button to push to bring you back to safety. I chased that feeling for years. I lived off it. It was fuel for me.

The truth is, kayaking and ice climbing became more than sports to me. They were an escape when life felt heavy and hard to carry. Out there, nothing else mattered except surviving the moment directly in front of you. All the noise of life disappeared. That feeling became addictive. It was the only place I felt fully free.

Looking back now, I know I’m incredibly lucky to still be alive. There were too many close calls. Too many moments where things could have gone differently by inches or seconds. And over time, the losses started piling up too. Friends disappearing from the community. Empty spaces where people once stood. Those hits stay with you. They change you.

I’m deeply thankful for those years and for the life the river gave me. It shaped who I am. It taught me resilience, commitment, courage, and how small we really are in wild places. But eventually I had to be honest with myself. I knew I couldn’t keep chasing the level of experiences I wanted forever and expect to survive it. Something had to change. (Read the rest below in comments)

For many years, whitewater kayaking exploration became my obsession as the ice melted and winter loosened its grip on the mountains. I loved how different it was from climbing, how it demanded everything from you all at once. Mentally, physically, emotionally. In a kayak there is no standing still, no long pause to calculate every move. The river forces decisions instantly, and if you make the wrong one, the consequences come hard and fast.

What pulled me in most was the exploration. Sliding into canyons and rivers that few people had ever seen, let alone paddled..made me feel fully alive. There was something sacred about disappearing into those places with your friends, carrying everything you needed, not fully knowing what waited downstream. Fear, uncertainty, excitement… it all blended together into this feeling that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. There was no satellite button to push to bring you back to safety. I chased that feeling for years. I lived off it. It was fuel for me.

The truth is, kayaking and ice climbing became more than sports to me. They were an escape when life felt heavy and hard to carry. Out there, nothing else mattered except surviving the moment directly in front of you. All the noise of life disappeared. That feeling became addictive. It was the only place I felt fully free.

Looking back now, I know I’m incredibly lucky to still be alive. There were too many close calls. Too many moments where things could have gone differently by inches or seconds. And over time, the losses started piling up too. Friends disappearing from the community. Empty spaces where people once stood. Those hits stay with you. They change you.

I’m deeply thankful for those years and for the life the river gave me. It shaped who I am. It taught me resilience, commitment, courage, and how small we really are in wild places. But eventually I had to be honest with myself. I knew I couldn’t keep chasing the level of experiences I wanted forever and expect to survive it. Something had to change. (Read the rest below in comments)

For many years, whitewater kayaking exploration became my obsession as the ice melted and winter loosened its grip on the mountains. I loved how different it was from climbing, how it demanded everything from you all at once. Mentally, physically, emotionally. In a kayak there is no standing still, no long pause to calculate every move. The river forces decisions instantly, and if you make the wrong one, the consequences come hard and fast.

What pulled me in most was the exploration. Sliding into canyons and rivers that few people had ever seen, let alone paddled..made me feel fully alive. There was something sacred about disappearing into those places with your friends, carrying everything you needed, not fully knowing what waited downstream. Fear, uncertainty, excitement… it all blended together into this feeling that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. There was no satellite button to push to bring you back to safety. I chased that feeling for years. I lived off it. It was fuel for me.

The truth is, kayaking and ice climbing became more than sports to me. They were an escape when life felt heavy and hard to carry. Out there, nothing else mattered except surviving the moment directly in front of you. All the noise of life disappeared. That feeling became addictive. It was the only place I felt fully free.

Looking back now, I know I’m incredibly lucky to still be alive. There were too many close calls. Too many moments where things could have gone differently by inches or seconds. And over time, the losses started piling up too. Friends disappearing from the community. Empty spaces where people once stood. Those hits stay with you. They change you.

I’m deeply thankful for those years and for the life the river gave me. It shaped who I am. It taught me resilience, commitment, courage, and how small we really are in wild places. But eventually I had to be honest with myself. I knew I couldn’t keep chasing the level of experiences I wanted forever and expect to survive it. Something had to change. (Read the rest below in comments)

For many years, whitewater kayaking exploration became my obsession as the ice melted and winter loosened its grip on the mountains. I loved how different it was from climbing, how it demanded everything from you all at once. Mentally, physically, emotionally. In a kayak there is no standing still, no long pause to calculate every move. The river forces decisions instantly, and if you make the wrong one, the consequences come hard and fast.

What pulled me in most was the exploration. Sliding into canyons and rivers that few people had ever seen, let alone paddled..made me feel fully alive. There was something sacred about disappearing into those places with your friends, carrying everything you needed, not fully knowing what waited downstream. Fear, uncertainty, excitement… it all blended together into this feeling that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. There was no satellite button to push to bring you back to safety. I chased that feeling for years. I lived off it. It was fuel for me.

The truth is, kayaking and ice climbing became more than sports to me. They were an escape when life felt heavy and hard to carry. Out there, nothing else mattered except surviving the moment directly in front of you. All the noise of life disappeared. That feeling became addictive. It was the only place I felt fully free.

Looking back now, I know I’m incredibly lucky to still be alive. There were too many close calls. Too many moments where things could have gone differently by inches or seconds. And over time, the losses started piling up too. Friends disappearing from the community. Empty spaces where people once stood. Those hits stay with you. They change you.

I’m deeply thankful for those years and for the life the river gave me. It shaped who I am. It taught me resilience, commitment, courage, and how small we really are in wild places. But eventually I had to be honest with myself. I knew I couldn’t keep chasing the level of experiences I wanted forever and expect to survive it. Something had to change. (Read the rest below in comments)

For many years, whitewater kayaking exploration became my obsession as the ice melted and winter loosened its grip on the mountains. I loved how different it was from climbing, how it demanded everything from you all at once. Mentally, physically, emotionally. In a kayak there is no standing still, no long pause to calculate every move. The river forces decisions instantly, and if you make the wrong one, the consequences come hard and fast.

What pulled me in most was the exploration. Sliding into canyons and rivers that few people had ever seen, let alone paddled..made me feel fully alive. There was something sacred about disappearing into those places with your friends, carrying everything you needed, not fully knowing what waited downstream. Fear, uncertainty, excitement… it all blended together into this feeling that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. There was no satellite button to push to bring you back to safety. I chased that feeling for years. I lived off it. It was fuel for me.

The truth is, kayaking and ice climbing became more than sports to me. They were an escape when life felt heavy and hard to carry. Out there, nothing else mattered except surviving the moment directly in front of you. All the noise of life disappeared. That feeling became addictive. It was the only place I felt fully free.

Looking back now, I know I’m incredibly lucky to still be alive. There were too many close calls. Too many moments where things could have gone differently by inches or seconds. And over time, the losses started piling up too. Friends disappearing from the community. Empty spaces where people once stood. Those hits stay with you. They change you.

I’m deeply thankful for those years and for the life the river gave me. It shaped who I am. It taught me resilience, commitment, courage, and how small we really are in wild places. But eventually I had to be honest with myself. I knew I couldn’t keep chasing the level of experiences I wanted forever and expect to survive it. Something had to change. (Read the rest below in comments)

For many years, whitewater kayaking exploration became my obsession as the ice melted and winter loosened its grip on the mountains. I loved how different it was from climbing, how it demanded everything from you all at once. Mentally, physically, emotionally. In a kayak there is no standing still, no long pause to calculate every move. The river forces decisions instantly, and if you make the wrong one, the consequences come hard and fast.

What pulled me in most was the exploration. Sliding into canyons and rivers that few people had ever seen, let alone paddled..made me feel fully alive. There was something sacred about disappearing into those places with your friends, carrying everything you needed, not fully knowing what waited downstream. Fear, uncertainty, excitement… it all blended together into this feeling that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. There was no satellite button to push to bring you back to safety. I chased that feeling for years. I lived off it. It was fuel for me.

The truth is, kayaking and ice climbing became more than sports to me. They were an escape when life felt heavy and hard to carry. Out there, nothing else mattered except surviving the moment directly in front of you. All the noise of life disappeared. That feeling became addictive. It was the only place I felt fully free.

Looking back now, I know I’m incredibly lucky to still be alive. There were too many close calls. Too many moments where things could have gone differently by inches or seconds. And over time, the losses started piling up too. Friends disappearing from the community. Empty spaces where people once stood. Those hits stay with you. They change you.

I’m deeply thankful for those years and for the life the river gave me. It shaped who I am. It taught me resilience, commitment, courage, and how small we really are in wild places. But eventually I had to be honest with myself. I knew I couldn’t keep chasing the level of experiences I wanted forever and expect to survive it. Something had to change. (Read the rest below in comments)

For many years, whitewater kayaking exploration became my obsession as the ice melted and winter loosened its grip on the mountains. I loved how different it was from climbing, how it demanded everything from you all at once. Mentally, physically, emotionally. In a kayak there is no standing still, no long pause to calculate every move. The river forces decisions instantly, and if you make the wrong one, the consequences come hard and fast.

What pulled me in most was the exploration. Sliding into canyons and rivers that few people had ever seen, let alone paddled..made me feel fully alive. There was something sacred about disappearing into those places with your friends, carrying everything you needed, not fully knowing what waited downstream. Fear, uncertainty, excitement… it all blended together into this feeling that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. There was no satellite button to push to bring you back to safety. I chased that feeling for years. I lived off it. It was fuel for me.

The truth is, kayaking and ice climbing became more than sports to me. They were an escape when life felt heavy and hard to carry. Out there, nothing else mattered except surviving the moment directly in front of you. All the noise of life disappeared. That feeling became addictive. It was the only place I felt fully free.

Looking back now, I know I’m incredibly lucky to still be alive. There were too many close calls. Too many moments where things could have gone differently by inches or seconds. And over time, the losses started piling up too. Friends disappearing from the community. Empty spaces where people once stood. Those hits stay with you. They change you.

I’m deeply thankful for those years and for the life the river gave me. It shaped who I am. It taught me resilience, commitment, courage, and how small we really are in wild places. But eventually I had to be honest with myself. I knew I couldn’t keep chasing the level of experiences I wanted forever and expect to survive it. Something had to change. (Read the rest below in comments)

For many years, whitewater kayaking exploration became my obsession as the ice melted and winter loosened its grip on the mountains. I loved how different it was from climbing, how it demanded everything from you all at once. Mentally, physically, emotionally. In a kayak there is no standing still, no long pause to calculate every move. The river forces decisions instantly, and if you make the wrong one, the consequences come hard and fast.

What pulled me in most was the exploration. Sliding into canyons and rivers that few people had ever seen, let alone paddled..made me feel fully alive. There was something sacred about disappearing into those places with your friends, carrying everything you needed, not fully knowing what waited downstream. Fear, uncertainty, excitement… it all blended together into this feeling that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. There was no satellite button to push to bring you back to safety. I chased that feeling for years. I lived off it. It was fuel for me.

The truth is, kayaking and ice climbing became more than sports to me. They were an escape when life felt heavy and hard to carry. Out there, nothing else mattered except surviving the moment directly in front of you. All the noise of life disappeared. That feeling became addictive. It was the only place I felt fully free.

Looking back now, I know I’m incredibly lucky to still be alive. There were too many close calls. Too many moments where things could have gone differently by inches or seconds. And over time, the losses started piling up too. Friends disappearing from the community. Empty spaces where people once stood. Those hits stay with you. They change you.

I’m deeply thankful for those years and for the life the river gave me. It shaped who I am. It taught me resilience, commitment, courage, and how small we really are in wild places. But eventually I had to be honest with myself. I knew I couldn’t keep chasing the level of experiences I wanted forever and expect to survive it. Something had to change. (Read the rest below in comments)

For many years, whitewater kayaking exploration became my obsession as the ice melted and winter loosened its grip on the mountains. I loved how different it was from climbing, how it demanded everything from you all at once. Mentally, physically, emotionally. In a kayak there is no standing still, no long pause to calculate every move. The river forces decisions instantly, and if you make the wrong one, the consequences come hard and fast.

What pulled me in most was the exploration. Sliding into canyons and rivers that few people had ever seen, let alone paddled..made me feel fully alive. There was something sacred about disappearing into those places with your friends, carrying everything you needed, not fully knowing what waited downstream. Fear, uncertainty, excitement… it all blended together into this feeling that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. There was no satellite button to push to bring you back to safety. I chased that feeling for years. I lived off it. It was fuel for me.

The truth is, kayaking and ice climbing became more than sports to me. They were an escape when life felt heavy and hard to carry. Out there, nothing else mattered except surviving the moment directly in front of you. All the noise of life disappeared. That feeling became addictive. It was the only place I felt fully free.

Looking back now, I know I’m incredibly lucky to still be alive. There were too many close calls. Too many moments where things could have gone differently by inches or seconds. And over time, the losses started piling up too. Friends disappearing from the community. Empty spaces where people once stood. Those hits stay with you. They change you.

I’m deeply thankful for those years and for the life the river gave me. It shaped who I am. It taught me resilience, commitment, courage, and how small we really are in wild places. But eventually I had to be honest with myself. I knew I couldn’t keep chasing the level of experiences I wanted forever and expect to survive it. Something had to change. (Read the rest below in comments)

For many years, whitewater kayaking exploration became my obsession as the ice melted and winter loosened its grip on the mountains. I loved how different it was from climbing, how it demanded everything from you all at once. Mentally, physically, emotionally. In a kayak there is no standing still, no long pause to calculate every move. The river forces decisions instantly, and if you make the wrong one, the consequences come hard and fast.

What pulled me in most was the exploration. Sliding into canyons and rivers that few people had ever seen, let alone paddled..made me feel fully alive. There was something sacred about disappearing into those places with your friends, carrying everything you needed, not fully knowing what waited downstream. Fear, uncertainty, excitement… it all blended together into this feeling that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. There was no satellite button to push to bring you back to safety. I chased that feeling for years. I lived off it. It was fuel for me.

The truth is, kayaking and ice climbing became more than sports to me. They were an escape when life felt heavy and hard to carry. Out there, nothing else mattered except surviving the moment directly in front of you. All the noise of life disappeared. That feeling became addictive. It was the only place I felt fully free.

Looking back now, I know I’m incredibly lucky to still be alive. There were too many close calls. Too many moments where things could have gone differently by inches or seconds. And over time, the losses started piling up too. Friends disappearing from the community. Empty spaces where people once stood. Those hits stay with you. They change you.

I’m deeply thankful for those years and for the life the river gave me. It shaped who I am. It taught me resilience, commitment, courage, and how small we really are in wild places. But eventually I had to be honest with myself. I knew I couldn’t keep chasing the level of experiences I wanted forever and expect to survive it. Something had to change. (Read the rest below in comments)

For many years, whitewater kayaking exploration became my obsession as the ice melted and winter loosened its grip on the mountains. I loved how different it was from climbing, how it demanded everything from you all at once. Mentally, physically, emotionally. In a kayak there is no standing still, no long pause to calculate every move. The river forces decisions instantly, and if you make the wrong one, the consequences come hard and fast.

What pulled me in most was the exploration. Sliding into canyons and rivers that few people had ever seen, let alone paddled..made me feel fully alive. There was something sacred about disappearing into those places with your friends, carrying everything you needed, not fully knowing what waited downstream. Fear, uncertainty, excitement… it all blended together into this feeling that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. There was no satellite button to push to bring you back to safety. I chased that feeling for years. I lived off it. It was fuel for me.

The truth is, kayaking and ice climbing became more than sports to me. They were an escape when life felt heavy and hard to carry. Out there, nothing else mattered except surviving the moment directly in front of you. All the noise of life disappeared. That feeling became addictive. It was the only place I felt fully free.

Looking back now, I know I’m incredibly lucky to still be alive. There were too many close calls. Too many moments where things could have gone differently by inches or seconds. And over time, the losses started piling up too. Friends disappearing from the community. Empty spaces where people once stood. Those hits stay with you. They change you.

I’m deeply thankful for those years and for the life the river gave me. It shaped who I am. It taught me resilience, commitment, courage, and how small we really are in wild places. But eventually I had to be honest with myself. I knew I couldn’t keep chasing the level of experiences I wanted forever and expect to survive it. Something had to change. (Read the rest below in comments)

One last rip for the season in Cooke City. SledFest was about to kick off, and I knew some friends would already be out there going huge, building jumps, testing limits, and seeing just how far they could fly.

This was the first season I really felt like I made legitimate progression with my snowmobile skills, and getting to watch these guys send it was seriously inspiring. Being able to learn from and ride alongside some of these pros has been an honor, and it only made me want to keep pushing myself further.

I turn 50 next year… so maybe it’s time to hit a 50-footer for my 50th?

Learning new skills and diving into new sports has always been essential for me. I never want to become a one-trick pony. #sendit #snowmobile #cookecity #ford_ambassador

The final hike out was a long haul with a heavy load. I hope you are able to see more of what happened with this massive Bull elk in this post. The pool of water he fell into is deep but with cold temps and some snow the hole was hidden. Many years ago on my first trip up this icefall I too fell into this hidden water hole. There are actually three in a row that are often hidden. This bull lived a big life in some of the toughest country in North America. The stories he could tell continue to keep me dreaming of the life he lived. Everyone has their way of paying respect to these animals and this was my way.
-
#hunting #iceclimbing
#bonecollector#meateater #teambronco_ambassador

Next thing you know I will be wearing a beanie in 70 degrees, talking about micro beta and calling ice climbing “seasonal movement practice”. All jokes aside it’s been decades since I have focused on rock climbing training, but that has now changed. I’ve been really enjoying the process and progression. Big goals! I should probably also get some dance lessons… #bouldering #rockclimbing #kilterboard

If you ever wondered how I get my @gopro 360 Max footage, here is the reveal of my system. I’ve never been a huge fan of the helmet mount and this system does pretty darn good even in tight spaces like this. Climbing out of this ice cave on the second pitch of this super fun climb in Five Springs provided a really cool perspective how awesome ice climbing is and what you get to see. #gopro #iceclimbing

#TeamBronco_Ambassador - Some of the most meaningful days of my life haven’t come from big summits or hard sends. They’ve come from watching my daughter step into the mountains for the first time. Climbing, camping, exploring, none of it is about performance. It’s about exposure. Letting kids feel the wind, the cold, the uncertainty. Letting them problem solve, take small risks, and realize they’re capable of more than they thought. In the wild, comfort isn’t guaranteed and that’s the point. She’s learning how to be uncomfortable… and stay calm anyway. How to push through when things feel hard. How to find confidence not from screens or noise, but from real experience. And for me? These trips have been priceless. The kind of memories you can’t buy, rush, or recreate. Just shared moments in wild places, watching her grow into herself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this... get your kids outside. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth everything! Happy Birthday @aftonnmulkey #TeamBronco_Ambassador

Disclaimer: Previous model year with optional equipment, available Ford accessories, and extra-cost color option shown.#camping #parenting #exploring

#TeamBronco_Ambassador - Some of the most meaningful days of my life haven’t come from big summits or hard sends. They’ve come from watching my daughter step into the mountains for the first time. Climbing, camping, exploring, none of it is about performance. It’s about exposure. Letting kids feel the wind, the cold, the uncertainty. Letting them problem solve, take small risks, and realize they’re capable of more than they thought. In the wild, comfort isn’t guaranteed and that’s the point. She’s learning how to be uncomfortable… and stay calm anyway. How to push through when things feel hard. How to find confidence not from screens or noise, but from real experience. And for me? These trips have been priceless. The kind of memories you can’t buy, rush, or recreate. Just shared moments in wild places, watching her grow into herself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this... get your kids outside. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth everything! Happy Birthday @aftonnmulkey #TeamBronco_Ambassador

Disclaimer: Previous model year with optional equipment, available Ford accessories, and extra-cost color option shown.#camping #parenting #exploring

#TeamBronco_Ambassador - Some of the most meaningful days of my life haven’t come from big summits or hard sends. They’ve come from watching my daughter step into the mountains for the first time. Climbing, camping, exploring, none of it is about performance. It’s about exposure. Letting kids feel the wind, the cold, the uncertainty. Letting them problem solve, take small risks, and realize they’re capable of more than they thought. In the wild, comfort isn’t guaranteed and that’s the point. She’s learning how to be uncomfortable… and stay calm anyway. How to push through when things feel hard. How to find confidence not from screens or noise, but from real experience. And for me? These trips have been priceless. The kind of memories you can’t buy, rush, or recreate. Just shared moments in wild places, watching her grow into herself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this... get your kids outside. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth everything! Happy Birthday @aftonnmulkey #TeamBronco_Ambassador

Disclaimer: Previous model year with optional equipment, available Ford accessories, and extra-cost color option shown.#camping #parenting #exploring

#TeamBronco_Ambassador - Some of the most meaningful days of my life haven’t come from big summits or hard sends. They’ve come from watching my daughter step into the mountains for the first time. Climbing, camping, exploring, none of it is about performance. It’s about exposure. Letting kids feel the wind, the cold, the uncertainty. Letting them problem solve, take small risks, and realize they’re capable of more than they thought. In the wild, comfort isn’t guaranteed and that’s the point. She’s learning how to be uncomfortable… and stay calm anyway. How to push through when things feel hard. How to find confidence not from screens or noise, but from real experience. And for me? These trips have been priceless. The kind of memories you can’t buy, rush, or recreate. Just shared moments in wild places, watching her grow into herself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this... get your kids outside. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth everything! Happy Birthday @aftonnmulkey #TeamBronco_Ambassador

Disclaimer: Previous model year with optional equipment, available Ford accessories, and extra-cost color option shown.#camping #parenting #exploring

#TeamBronco_Ambassador - Some of the most meaningful days of my life haven’t come from big summits or hard sends. They’ve come from watching my daughter step into the mountains for the first time. Climbing, camping, exploring, none of it is about performance. It’s about exposure. Letting kids feel the wind, the cold, the uncertainty. Letting them problem solve, take small risks, and realize they’re capable of more than they thought. In the wild, comfort isn’t guaranteed and that’s the point. She’s learning how to be uncomfortable… and stay calm anyway. How to push through when things feel hard. How to find confidence not from screens or noise, but from real experience. And for me? These trips have been priceless. The kind of memories you can’t buy, rush, or recreate. Just shared moments in wild places, watching her grow into herself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this... get your kids outside. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth everything! Happy Birthday @aftonnmulkey #TeamBronco_Ambassador

Disclaimer: Previous model year with optional equipment, available Ford accessories, and extra-cost color option shown.#camping #parenting #exploring

#TeamBronco_Ambassador - Some of the most meaningful days of my life haven’t come from big summits or hard sends. They’ve come from watching my daughter step into the mountains for the first time. Climbing, camping, exploring, none of it is about performance. It’s about exposure. Letting kids feel the wind, the cold, the uncertainty. Letting them problem solve, take small risks, and realize they’re capable of more than they thought. In the wild, comfort isn’t guaranteed and that’s the point. She’s learning how to be uncomfortable… and stay calm anyway. How to push through when things feel hard. How to find confidence not from screens or noise, but from real experience. And for me? These trips have been priceless. The kind of memories you can’t buy, rush, or recreate. Just shared moments in wild places, watching her grow into herself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this... get your kids outside. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth everything! Happy Birthday @aftonnmulkey #TeamBronco_Ambassador

Disclaimer: Previous model year with optional equipment, available Ford accessories, and extra-cost color option shown.#camping #parenting #exploring

#TeamBronco_Ambassador - Some of the most meaningful days of my life haven’t come from big summits or hard sends. They’ve come from watching my daughter step into the mountains for the first time. Climbing, camping, exploring, none of it is about performance. It’s about exposure. Letting kids feel the wind, the cold, the uncertainty. Letting them problem solve, take small risks, and realize they’re capable of more than they thought. In the wild, comfort isn’t guaranteed and that’s the point. She’s learning how to be uncomfortable… and stay calm anyway. How to push through when things feel hard. How to find confidence not from screens or noise, but from real experience. And for me? These trips have been priceless. The kind of memories you can’t buy, rush, or recreate. Just shared moments in wild places, watching her grow into herself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this... get your kids outside. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth everything! Happy Birthday @aftonnmulkey #TeamBronco_Ambassador

Disclaimer: Previous model year with optional equipment, available Ford accessories, and extra-cost color option shown.#camping #parenting #exploring

#TeamBronco_Ambassador - Some of the most meaningful days of my life haven’t come from big summits or hard sends. They’ve come from watching my daughter step into the mountains for the first time. Climbing, camping, exploring, none of it is about performance. It’s about exposure. Letting kids feel the wind, the cold, the uncertainty. Letting them problem solve, take small risks, and realize they’re capable of more than they thought. In the wild, comfort isn’t guaranteed and that’s the point. She’s learning how to be uncomfortable… and stay calm anyway. How to push through when things feel hard. How to find confidence not from screens or noise, but from real experience. And for me? These trips have been priceless. The kind of memories you can’t buy, rush, or recreate. Just shared moments in wild places, watching her grow into herself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this... get your kids outside. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth everything! Happy Birthday @aftonnmulkey #TeamBronco_Ambassador

Disclaimer: Previous model year with optional equipment, available Ford accessories, and extra-cost color option shown.#camping #parenting #exploring

#TeamBronco_Ambassador - Some of the most meaningful days of my life haven’t come from big summits or hard sends. They’ve come from watching my daughter step into the mountains for the first time. Climbing, camping, exploring, none of it is about performance. It’s about exposure. Letting kids feel the wind, the cold, the uncertainty. Letting them problem solve, take small risks, and realize they’re capable of more than they thought. In the wild, comfort isn’t guaranteed and that’s the point. She’s learning how to be uncomfortable… and stay calm anyway. How to push through when things feel hard. How to find confidence not from screens or noise, but from real experience. And for me? These trips have been priceless. The kind of memories you can’t buy, rush, or recreate. Just shared moments in wild places, watching her grow into herself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this... get your kids outside. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth everything! Happy Birthday @aftonnmulkey #TeamBronco_Ambassador

Disclaimer: Previous model year with optional equipment, available Ford accessories, and extra-cost color option shown.#camping #parenting #exploring

#TeamBronco_Ambassador - Some of the most meaningful days of my life haven’t come from big summits or hard sends. They’ve come from watching my daughter step into the mountains for the first time. Climbing, camping, exploring, none of it is about performance. It’s about exposure. Letting kids feel the wind, the cold, the uncertainty. Letting them problem solve, take small risks, and realize they’re capable of more than they thought. In the wild, comfort isn’t guaranteed and that’s the point. She’s learning how to be uncomfortable… and stay calm anyway. How to push through when things feel hard. How to find confidence not from screens or noise, but from real experience. And for me? These trips have been priceless. The kind of memories you can’t buy, rush, or recreate. Just shared moments in wild places, watching her grow into herself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this... get your kids outside. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth everything! Happy Birthday @aftonnmulkey #TeamBronco_Ambassador

Disclaimer: Previous model year with optional equipment, available Ford accessories, and extra-cost color option shown.#camping #parenting #exploring

#TeamBronco_Ambassador - Some of the most meaningful days of my life haven’t come from big summits or hard sends. They’ve come from watching my daughter step into the mountains for the first time. Climbing, camping, exploring, none of it is about performance. It’s about exposure. Letting kids feel the wind, the cold, the uncertainty. Letting them problem solve, take small risks, and realize they’re capable of more than they thought. In the wild, comfort isn’t guaranteed and that’s the point. She’s learning how to be uncomfortable… and stay calm anyway. How to push through when things feel hard. How to find confidence not from screens or noise, but from real experience. And for me? These trips have been priceless. The kind of memories you can’t buy, rush, or recreate. Just shared moments in wild places, watching her grow into herself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this... get your kids outside. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth everything! Happy Birthday @aftonnmulkey #TeamBronco_Ambassador

Disclaimer: Previous model year with optional equipment, available Ford accessories, and extra-cost color option shown.#camping #parenting #exploring

#TeamBronco_Ambassador - Some of the most meaningful days of my life haven’t come from big summits or hard sends. They’ve come from watching my daughter step into the mountains for the first time. Climbing, camping, exploring, none of it is about performance. It’s about exposure. Letting kids feel the wind, the cold, the uncertainty. Letting them problem solve, take small risks, and realize they’re capable of more than they thought. In the wild, comfort isn’t guaranteed and that’s the point. She’s learning how to be uncomfortable… and stay calm anyway. How to push through when things feel hard. How to find confidence not from screens or noise, but from real experience. And for me? These trips have been priceless. The kind of memories you can’t buy, rush, or recreate. Just shared moments in wild places, watching her grow into herself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this... get your kids outside. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth everything! Happy Birthday @aftonnmulkey #TeamBronco_Ambassador

Disclaimer: Previous model year with optional equipment, available Ford accessories, and extra-cost color option shown.#camping #parenting #exploring

I have hunted and roamed the mountains since I could walk. I have seen some incredible places and animals in my life. It bums me out this big bulls life was ended by making a simple mistake. But that is life in the mountains for both humans and animals. I share this story in honor of this magnificent bull. He lived a long life in some of the most rugged terrain in North America. I continue to imagine the things he had seen and been through. There is no doubt, he was king of the mountain. Never forget to fight for your public lands! _________________________________________ #hunting #iceclimbing
#elkhunting #elk #adventure

There is one way to get away from the crowds looking for those classic desert crack lines. Get a boat! This was a fun day exploring lake Powell rock climbing.

Each week I’m going to start pulling photos and videos from the archive. Relics from a different era. Proof of a life spent chasing frozen water, whitewater, distance, and uncertainty.

Since the 90s, ice climbing and kayaking have been the constant thread running through my life. The compass needle always pointed toward cold places, consequences, and curiosity.

Looking back through these images reminds me of the people I shared those miles with. Some are still here. Some are gone. All of them left fingerprints on the person I became.

Back then exploration still meant something raw. Before smartphones, before satellite messengers, before every route and approach was neatly packaged online. There was no button to push when things unraveled. Rescue was self-reliance. Competence mattered. Your ability to stay calm mattered. Your partners mattered.

The equipment was worse. The information was almost nonexistent. Sometimes all you had was a faded topo map, bad weather, and enough belief to keep moving deeper into the mountains. You left the car carrying equal parts ambition and ignorance.

That uncertainty was the point.

The world feels smaller now. Safer. More documented. But those years taught me something valuable…that a meaningful life is usually found somewhere beyond convenience, beyond certainty, and just past the edge of comfort. #climbing #iceclimbing

Each week I’m going to start pulling photos and videos from the archive. Relics from a different era. Proof of a life spent chasing frozen water, whitewater, distance, and uncertainty.

Since the 90s, ice climbing and kayaking have been the constant thread running through my life. The compass needle always pointed toward cold places, consequences, and curiosity.

Looking back through these images reminds me of the people I shared those miles with. Some are still here. Some are gone. All of them left fingerprints on the person I became.

Back then exploration still meant something raw. Before smartphones, before satellite messengers, before every route and approach was neatly packaged online. There was no button to push when things unraveled. Rescue was self-reliance. Competence mattered. Your ability to stay calm mattered. Your partners mattered.

The equipment was worse. The information was almost nonexistent. Sometimes all you had was a faded topo map, bad weather, and enough belief to keep moving deeper into the mountains. You left the car carrying equal parts ambition and ignorance.

That uncertainty was the point.

The world feels smaller now. Safer. More documented. But those years taught me something valuable…that a meaningful life is usually found somewhere beyond convenience, beyond certainty, and just past the edge of comfort. #climbing #iceclimbing

Each week I’m going to start pulling photos and videos from the archive. Relics from a different era. Proof of a life spent chasing frozen water, whitewater, distance, and uncertainty.

Since the 90s, ice climbing and kayaking have been the constant thread running through my life. The compass needle always pointed toward cold places, consequences, and curiosity.

Looking back through these images reminds me of the people I shared those miles with. Some are still here. Some are gone. All of them left fingerprints on the person I became.

Back then exploration still meant something raw. Before smartphones, before satellite messengers, before every route and approach was neatly packaged online. There was no button to push when things unraveled. Rescue was self-reliance. Competence mattered. Your ability to stay calm mattered. Your partners mattered.

The equipment was worse. The information was almost nonexistent. Sometimes all you had was a faded topo map, bad weather, and enough belief to keep moving deeper into the mountains. You left the car carrying equal parts ambition and ignorance.

That uncertainty was the point.

The world feels smaller now. Safer. More documented. But those years taught me something valuable…that a meaningful life is usually found somewhere beyond convenience, beyond certainty, and just past the edge of comfort. #climbing #iceclimbing

Each week I’m going to start pulling photos and videos from the archive. Relics from a different era. Proof of a life spent chasing frozen water, whitewater, distance, and uncertainty.

Since the 90s, ice climbing and kayaking have been the constant thread running through my life. The compass needle always pointed toward cold places, consequences, and curiosity.

Looking back through these images reminds me of the people I shared those miles with. Some are still here. Some are gone. All of them left fingerprints on the person I became.

Back then exploration still meant something raw. Before smartphones, before satellite messengers, before every route and approach was neatly packaged online. There was no button to push when things unraveled. Rescue was self-reliance. Competence mattered. Your ability to stay calm mattered. Your partners mattered.

The equipment was worse. The information was almost nonexistent. Sometimes all you had was a faded topo map, bad weather, and enough belief to keep moving deeper into the mountains. You left the car carrying equal parts ambition and ignorance.

That uncertainty was the point.

The world feels smaller now. Safer. More documented. But those years taught me something valuable…that a meaningful life is usually found somewhere beyond convenience, beyond certainty, and just past the edge of comfort. #climbing #iceclimbing

Each week I’m going to start pulling photos and videos from the archive. Relics from a different era. Proof of a life spent chasing frozen water, whitewater, distance, and uncertainty.

Since the 90s, ice climbing and kayaking have been the constant thread running through my life. The compass needle always pointed toward cold places, consequences, and curiosity.

Looking back through these images reminds me of the people I shared those miles with. Some are still here. Some are gone. All of them left fingerprints on the person I became.

Back then exploration still meant something raw. Before smartphones, before satellite messengers, before every route and approach was neatly packaged online. There was no button to push when things unraveled. Rescue was self-reliance. Competence mattered. Your ability to stay calm mattered. Your partners mattered.

The equipment was worse. The information was almost nonexistent. Sometimes all you had was a faded topo map, bad weather, and enough belief to keep moving deeper into the mountains. You left the car carrying equal parts ambition and ignorance.

That uncertainty was the point.

The world feels smaller now. Safer. More documented. But those years taught me something valuable…that a meaningful life is usually found somewhere beyond convenience, beyond certainty, and just past the edge of comfort. #climbing #iceclimbing

Each week I’m going to start pulling photos and videos from the archive. Relics from a different era. Proof of a life spent chasing frozen water, whitewater, distance, and uncertainty.

Since the 90s, ice climbing and kayaking have been the constant thread running through my life. The compass needle always pointed toward cold places, consequences, and curiosity.

Looking back through these images reminds me of the people I shared those miles with. Some are still here. Some are gone. All of them left fingerprints on the person I became.

Back then exploration still meant something raw. Before smartphones, before satellite messengers, before every route and approach was neatly packaged online. There was no button to push when things unraveled. Rescue was self-reliance. Competence mattered. Your ability to stay calm mattered. Your partners mattered.

The equipment was worse. The information was almost nonexistent. Sometimes all you had was a faded topo map, bad weather, and enough belief to keep moving deeper into the mountains. You left the car carrying equal parts ambition and ignorance.

That uncertainty was the point.

The world feels smaller now. Safer. More documented. But those years taught me something valuable…that a meaningful life is usually found somewhere beyond convenience, beyond certainty, and just past the edge of comfort. #climbing #iceclimbing

Each week I’m going to start pulling photos and videos from the archive. Relics from a different era. Proof of a life spent chasing frozen water, whitewater, distance, and uncertainty.

Since the 90s, ice climbing and kayaking have been the constant thread running through my life. The compass needle always pointed toward cold places, consequences, and curiosity.

Looking back through these images reminds me of the people I shared those miles with. Some are still here. Some are gone. All of them left fingerprints on the person I became.

Back then exploration still meant something raw. Before smartphones, before satellite messengers, before every route and approach was neatly packaged online. There was no button to push when things unraveled. Rescue was self-reliance. Competence mattered. Your ability to stay calm mattered. Your partners mattered.

The equipment was worse. The information was almost nonexistent. Sometimes all you had was a faded topo map, bad weather, and enough belief to keep moving deeper into the mountains. You left the car carrying equal parts ambition and ignorance.

That uncertainty was the point.

The world feels smaller now. Safer. More documented. But those years taught me something valuable…that a meaningful life is usually found somewhere beyond convenience, beyond certainty, and just past the edge of comfort. #climbing #iceclimbing

Each week I’m going to start pulling photos and videos from the archive. Relics from a different era. Proof of a life spent chasing frozen water, whitewater, distance, and uncertainty.

Since the 90s, ice climbing and kayaking have been the constant thread running through my life. The compass needle always pointed toward cold places, consequences, and curiosity.

Looking back through these images reminds me of the people I shared those miles with. Some are still here. Some are gone. All of them left fingerprints on the person I became.

Back then exploration still meant something raw. Before smartphones, before satellite messengers, before every route and approach was neatly packaged online. There was no button to push when things unraveled. Rescue was self-reliance. Competence mattered. Your ability to stay calm mattered. Your partners mattered.

The equipment was worse. The information was almost nonexistent. Sometimes all you had was a faded topo map, bad weather, and enough belief to keep moving deeper into the mountains. You left the car carrying equal parts ambition and ignorance.

That uncertainty was the point.

The world feels smaller now. Safer. More documented. But those years taught me something valuable…that a meaningful life is usually found somewhere beyond convenience, beyond certainty, and just past the edge of comfort. #climbing #iceclimbing

Each week I’m going to start pulling photos and videos from the archive. Relics from a different era. Proof of a life spent chasing frozen water, whitewater, distance, and uncertainty.

Since the 90s, ice climbing and kayaking have been the constant thread running through my life. The compass needle always pointed toward cold places, consequences, and curiosity.

Looking back through these images reminds me of the people I shared those miles with. Some are still here. Some are gone. All of them left fingerprints on the person I became.

Back then exploration still meant something raw. Before smartphones, before satellite messengers, before every route and approach was neatly packaged online. There was no button to push when things unraveled. Rescue was self-reliance. Competence mattered. Your ability to stay calm mattered. Your partners mattered.

The equipment was worse. The information was almost nonexistent. Sometimes all you had was a faded topo map, bad weather, and enough belief to keep moving deeper into the mountains. You left the car carrying equal parts ambition and ignorance.

That uncertainty was the point.

The world feels smaller now. Safer. More documented. But those years taught me something valuable…that a meaningful life is usually found somewhere beyond convenience, beyond certainty, and just past the edge of comfort. #climbing #iceclimbing