Eighteen years ago, somewhere past the tree line outside Aspen, the relentless noise of the world finally snapped shut. The trek to that backcountry cabin was not about reaching a destination; it was about the steady, rhythmic meditation of the climb. In the city, we curate our spaces for comfort. Out here, aesthetics freeze and shatter. When the temperature plummets and the oxygen thins, your relationship with the objects you carry is stripped down to a singular metric: absolute, unapologetic utility. I was accompanied by an old friend from college, her boyfriend, now husband, and a guide from Aspen Expeditions. It was one of the most memorable weeks of my life.
Curating an alpine kit requires a ruthless intentionality. Every ounce is a calculation; every piece of gear must perform flawlessly under duress. This is not about accessorizing an experience. It is about engineering a symbiotic system that allows you to defy gravity, find the silence, and guarantee your return. I had my Osprey backpack with a water bladder. On that trip, I had old G3 Baron Skis fresh off the showroom floor and a novelty binding by Rottefella, the NTN. I had skied in-bounds in Vermont most of that winter, but this was my first trip out west, and did it ever deliver.
At altitude, solitary tools fail. Success requires an engineered pairing. The entire foundation of the backcountry ascent relies on a delicate, uncompromising balance between weight reduction and mechanical friction.
The backcountry ski—a calculated architecture of carbon and wood cores—provides the necessary platform, the float, and the eventual release. Yet, it is practically useless on the upward pitch without its counterpart. It requires the climbing skin: a strip of woven nylon friction applied directly to the base. The skin bites into the snow, actively defying gravity with every forward stride, holding the mountain when the mountain wants to throw you back. Together, the friction of the skin and the architecture of the ski turn an impossible vertical into a calculated rhythm.
Today we are looking at the 2026 Rossignol XP 105 Positrack Cross Country Backcountry Skis. Built for deep, ungroomed terrain, these skis consistently earn praise for their exceptional float in soft snow and confidence-inspiring stability. Reviewers highlight the full metal edges and waxless Positrack base, which together deliver reliable grip on steep climbs and uncompromising control on the descent, allowing you to access terrain that traditional touring skis simply cannot handle.
And of course, we need the best trekking poles. But before we even get there, we should talk about skins. That week in Aspen, we cut my Black Diamond skins. Over the years, miles, and altitude, I have tried and tested a bunch, but I am partial to the G3s, specifically the Minimist. They are exactly that—exactly what you need to get wherever you are going, easily. Find the POW.
You earn the silence through the friction. And when the cabin finally materializes through the pines, the ritual completes itself. You strip the skins away. You trade the friction for the glide. The mountain opens up, and you remember exactly why you left the noise behind.
Intentionality does not stop at your front door. Whether you are navigating urban concrete or the quiet isolation of the backcountry, demand absolute performance from the tools you carry.