Sustainable Summit Skiing: Reilly Kaczmarek's 14er Adventure

"I've been skiing longer than I have memories," he tells us with a smile. Growing up in Golden, Colorado, Reilly's parents put him on skis practically the day he could walk. What began as a family activity eventually evolved into a lifelong passion that would merge with his academic pursuits and environmental values. 

Now in his final year studying Geology at CU Boulder, he wanted to combine his scientific knowledge with his love for skiing and photography. The result? An ambitious project to ski Colorado's famous 14ers—mountains exceeding 14,000 feet—with sustainability as the guiding principle. 

What started as a personal challenge quickly grew into something much bigger than anticipated. The mission was clear: use as much old gear as possible and partner only with brands committed to carbon-zero goals.

"Given the state of climate change and environmentalism in my mind and among my peers, I wanted to see if I could ski 14ers as sustainably as possible," he explains. 

The project faced numerous logistical challenges, particularly transportation. "It was a 'shit show' last year trying to get EVs to the trailhead and back," he laughs. Fortunately, Reilly's partnership with Rivian helped solve this problem, providing reliable electric transportation to remote trailheads. 

He acknowledges the inherent contradiction in adventure sports: "I would love to take this concept further because ultimately skiing has a huge impact with travel—whether it's heli, cat, or global travel. It's about recognizing that hypocrisy and trying to change as much of it as I can." 

When asked about his most memorable experience, he doesn't hesitate: "Skiing Torreys Peak was the best line of the project." After initially attempting the notorious Dead Dog Couloir and having to bail due to timing, he pivoted to Emperors Couloir approached by the the saddle between Torreys and Grays peaks. 

"It was a 3,000-foot couloir with 45-50 degree skiing all the way down," he recalls, the excitement evident in his voice. 

Perhaps even more meaningful was his experience on Mt. Blue Sky (formerly Mt. Evans) with Connor Ryan and Napayshni Young. “With the restoration of its original Native name, the day carried a much deeper significance. Indigenous peoples have cared for these lands for countless generations, and this recognition helps honor their role in continuing to preserve them. Connor and Napayshni may have been the first Native skiers to descend the peak since its renaming, making it even more special to share that moment with them. It was incredible to be part of something bigger than myself—celebrating both the history of this place and the people who have long protected it, while also thinking about how we can be better stewards moving forward.

The reality of winter mountaineering quickly humbled his initial expectations. "I originally thought these mountains were a walk in the park, not big mountaineering objectives. But I ended up getting to the saddle of Quandry and was hit with 60mph gusts, with summit gusts much higher." 

His first day brought a "humbling start," realizing that winter conditions were significantly more challenging than summer hiking. Plans had to be flexible, including an ambitious attempt with his sister to link five summits after a big snowfall that ultimately required them to bail after assessing avalanche conditions. 

"Finally, come April after other random attempts, conditions stabilized, and I was able to ski many of my objectives," he explains. 

Standing on a summit less than 10 square feet in size was an unexpectedly wild feeling. There were hard-earned lessons about timing and snow conditions, like on Criso Couloir: "Top 1,000 feet was ice, middle was nice, bottom was slush. In hindsight, I should have predicted that." 

But the true highlight? "The friends that I was able to ski these mountains with. Being able to bring friends along and celebrate the adventure and the suffering together is such a wonderful experience. I couldn't have done it without them." 

When asked about his most important piece of equipment, he doesn't mention his Renoun skis (though they were certainly crucial). Instead, he points to safety: "The Garmin InReach. I didn't have to hit SOS, but I did use it to send updates and check-in texts in case 'shit hits the fan' and emergency action goes into place. Being able to check in is really important—for their sanity and mine." 

The biggest challenge wasn't physical but logistical: "Planning and research. I had to spend a lot of time on CalTopo understanding avalanche terrain, checking Mountain Forecasts for recent snowfall and wind conditions." 

His geology background, particularly a Field Snow Hydrology course, proved invaluable in understanding "water density in relationship between water and snow precipitation." 

For anyone considering a similar adventure, his advice is straightforward: "Do your research; don't be ignorant. Avalanches suck and do not play favorites. Make sure you're not walking into this blind." 

More philosophically, he adds: "Do it for the right reasons. Everyone is rushing through life, and to be able to take a moment and go ski a mountain is something worth celebrating. For me, it's not about bagging summits; it's about the experience, the people, and purpose along the way." 

As Renoun continues to support athletes pushing the boundaries of what's possible in alpine environments, we're proud to champion those who, like this thoughtful adventurer, are finding ways to pursue their passions while minimizing their impact on the mountains we all love.