SheJumps x Ikon Pass: Coming Back to the Mountain
2026-04-01
I was skiing a blue run when it hit me: I wasn't bracing for impact. I was just skiing. Grounded, present, my body doing something I'd spent years convincing myself it couldn't do anymore. It was one of those moments that's small and enormous at the same time.
How skiing got away from me
I first learned to ski in 2019, shortly after moving to Denver. I was a beginner, enthusiastic but inconsistent — the kind of skier who got better each time and then didn't go again for months. Life kept interrupting: relocations, schedules, the sheer cost of the sport.
Then in 2024, a cycling accident put me out for an entire winter. I spent months in rehab, rebuilding strength and relearning how to trust my body. By the time I was physically ready to ski again, the financial and psychological barriers had compounded. I didn't own gear. Lift tickets alone could run $200 a day. And I had no community of people at my level. Mostly I'd been trying to keep up with skiers far ahead of me, which is its own kind of discouraging.
Why SheJumps
Growing up, my immigrant family explored museums, not trails. The outdoors — and especially skiing — felt like a world that wasn't built for people like me. I've spent years actively working against that feeling, earning my way into outdoor spaces one trip at a time. But access isn't just about will. It's also about cost, community, and representation.
The SheJumps x Ikon Pass Mountain Access Program removed the financial barrier entirely. But more than that, it offered something I'd experienced once before and found transformative: an all-women environment. During a NOLS course in Alaska, I discovered how differently I showed up when I wasn't self-editing for a mixed group. I led on loose gravel. I voiced disagreements. I asked for what I needed. The SheJumps program offered that same container — a space where I could be a beginner without apology.
What the season gave me
Access to gear and lift tickets meant I could actually get on the mountain — at Snoqualmie and Crystal Mountain here in Washington. Lessons gave me structure. But the biggest thing was permission: to go slowly, to fall, to be exactly where I was in my progression without feeling like I was holding anyone back.
I also got the chance to meet Guy Lawrence, the GM of The Summit at Snoqualmie — a conversation that opened up a whole other lens on the sport, from water rights and snowmaking to the operational complexity of running a seasonal business. It was the outdoors meeting the intellectual curiosity I usually reserve for work, and I loved it.
That blue run moment
The standout moment was simpler than I expected. I was skiing a blue run — not my first, but the first one where I wasn't managing fear in the background. I wasn't thinking about my knee or my crash or what would happen if I fell. I was just there, on the mountain, doing the thing. My body knew what to do.
It reminded me that trust isn't something you decide to have. It's something you rebuild, slowly, in exactly the right conditions. SheJumps created those conditions.
The Ski Log
Every day on the mountain this season, documented.
First ski of 2026 — Snoqualmie
First turns of the season with my college friend Borde. We lapped a green run, got our legs under us, and I remembered that skiing is actually fun.
Working on technique — with Owen
Parallel turning, leaning forward, hockey stops. Owen is a patient teacher and these are the drills I needed to start skiing with control instead of just survival mode.
Valentine's Day — East Coast
Flew east to see family and somehow ended up skiing on Valentine's Day — which turned out to be a perfect way to spend it. Got confident with blue terrain and made some fun videos along the way.
SheJumps lesson at Crystal Mountain — with Athena
Used my SheJumps lesson credit for a 1:1 with Athena at Crystal. We worked on parallel turns, side slipping, and pushed into some spicier blue terrain. My first time ever at Crystal Mountain — and what a mountain to debut on.
Mt. Bachelor with friends
Conditions meant we couldn't ski the three days we'd planned, but I kept up with my friends on blues — and that was the whole point. My goal coming into this season was to be able to say yes to trips like this without hesitation, and I did. Great chairlift conversations, beautiful mountain. Knew when I was done for the day and got off the mountain. Learning as an adult means knowing your limit.
Edge Outdoors — skiing with women of color
Joined an Edge Outdoors class designed for women of color — exactly the kind of space I'd been looking for. Tori, a freeride coach at Crystal, led us through parallel turns and navigating slush. So much fun being in a lesson where representation was the starting point, not the exception.
Season closer — new mountain with friends
Bummed I couldn't ski to my full potential, but loved exploring a new mountain with good company. A solid way to close out the season — more about the people than the turns.
What's next
This season changed my trajectory. I'm not just trying to ski comfortably with friends anymore. I'm thinking about ski touring. Eventually, I want to descend Mt. Shasta. That goal felt abstract before this winter. Now it feels like a matter of time and reps.
More than the access, SheJumps gave me momentum and belonging — two things that turn a one-season experiment into a lifelong pursuit.