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Mont-Tremblant Recap

The Ones Who Came Back

By 29029 Everesting

September 11^th, 2025

The ascent boards came to life as the lights turned on.

One by one, climbers stepped into the start chute.

Many were at 29029 for their first time, alongside 38 Black Bibs.

More than ever before.

Jesse took the mic with minutes to go.

A few last words.

A deep breath.

And then…

It was time to climb.

False Summit

The air was cool, but not cold.

The trail was firm, but not dusty.

Climbers were dialed in, but no longer nervous.

Motion kept the nerves at bay.

Tremblant’s ascent started steep, but then softened.

Then you hit the top half.

That’s where the grade turned.

That’s where the mountain really showed up.

Steep.

Rocky.

Difficult.

Now it felt earned.

The Rhythm Builds

The first few ascents often come easy.

The sun rose slow. The air stayed cool.

Music thumped. Cowbells rang. Energy was high.

You climbed. You refueled. You climbed again.

By midday, conditions were still ideal.

It felt like the weather was finally on your side.

First-timers smiled.

Black Bibs moved with purpose.

And scattered among them were a different set of climbers who had been there before.

They weren’t talking much.

Just climbing.

Focused on Everest.

Time felt generous.

Belief took hold.

This could be the one.

When the Storm Hit

The ascent boards kept filling as night began to fall on the mountain.

Energy was still high

And then…

Wind.

Rain.

Lightning.

The gondola stopped.

The trail closed.

The village went dark.

Headlamps cut through the blowing rain.

Climbers huddled indoors, waiting out the storm.

The mountain went silent.

The Reset

The storm passed.

The trail reopened.

The gondola started turning again.

It was still night.

Still dark.

And still time to climb.

But something had shifted.

The ascents had stopped piling up.

Your rhythm was gone.

New doubts crept in as you restarted your path to Everest.

The mountain hadn’t changed.

But it felt like everything else had.

Climbing Into the Clouds

Behind the summit of Mont-Tremblant, the sun climbed into the sky, mirroring your ascent to the top.

Pink light stretched across the ridgelines, catching wisps of cloud between mountains.

For a few minutes, the summit lit up.

Then it disappeared into fog.

Cold wind howled. The views were gone.

Each ascent now meant climbing into the clouds.

That was when the math started.

How many laps left?

How long per climb?

What’s the cutoff?

It may not have been said out loud, but everyone was counting.

The Final Push

The math got sharper every lap.

Time was running out.

The clouds lifted, but nobody cared about the views anymore.

You had something bigger in your sights.

Red.

Pace picked up. Breaks got shorter. No step was wasted.

When the Red Carpet came into view for your final ascent, the energy hit its crescendo.

Spectators, volunteers, and staff cheered like their own names were on the board.

Some climbers came in steady.

Others sprinted. For Everest, or even just for one last lap.

Some pulled on a Red Hat. Others found their own Everest on a different summit.

And 27 climbers walked the Red Carpet for their final time as a White Bib, with their Everest at Mont-Tremblant marking their 3rd successful 29029.

More Black Bibs were earned here than ever before.

One by one, the legacy climbed higher.

The Ones Who Came Back

When Mont-Tremblant began, there were first-timers, and there were veterans.

But there was another group of climbers that didn’t stand out from the sea of bibs at the start line.

Same gear. Same wristbands. Same quiet focus.

But they carried something different.

They’d been here before.

Other mountains.

Other years.

Always close, but never Everest.

They didn’t talk about it much.

They just kept climbing.

No wasted steps. No hesitation.

Every brand mattered, and this was their shot.

They would leave this mountain wearing Red.

Not by luck.

Not by accident.

But because they kept showing up.

Never quitting.

Here are just a few of those redemption stories.

Not Done Yet

Kyle Willis had climbed 29029 once before.

At Snowbasin in 2024, he didn’t quite reach Everest.

But the experience changed him.

He left that mountain knowing one thing.

He wasn’t done.

At Mont-Tremblant, he climbed with laser focus.

Through the storm.

Through the night.

Red was in his sights.

And on his 15th time to the summit, he got to walk the Red Carpet.

He got to pull on the Red Hat - proof he wasn’t finished climbing mountains.

Years in the Making

Many mountains ago, Jenna Silhavy came to 29029 with the Impact Partnership group.

Each time she climbed, something kept her from the finish line.

She watched others earn their Red Hats - again and again - but that never stopped her from coming back.

This was her sixth mountain, and she believed this could be the one.

Jenna stayed ahead of the clock.

She branded the board. She kept moving. Always with intention.

And on Saturday afternoon, with the 29029 community cheering her in, she climbed her 15th ascent.

She pulled on a Red Hat years in the making.

Never Quit

Steve Brown has exemplified grit for years in the 29029 community.

He had never reached Everest, but he always left it all on the mountain.

Going wire to wire, not stopping until time ran out, Steve never quit.

Even when it became clear he couldn’t reach Everest.

Mountain after mountain, he put in the kind of effort anyone would be proud of.

But Everest still called.

Six mountains later, with tears in his eyes and the community chanting his name at the summit, Steve finally reached the Red Carpet.

He pulled on the Red Hat, proving that as long as you keep showing up, you can achieve monumental things.

What the Mountain Revealed

Mont-Tremblant wasn’t just about redemption.

It wasn’t just about Red Hats.

Or ascents.

Or weather.

Or the storm that rolled through at night.

It was about what the mountain asked of you.

And what you found within yourself to answer back.

Focus.

Patience.

Grit.

Resilience when the plan changed.

Urgency when you lost time to the gondola closure.

Belief that the summit was still there when it disappeared into the clouds.

These weren’t just physical climbs.

They were personal.

And whether you left with a Black Bib, a Red Hat, or something quieter and harder to name, one thing was certain:

You left different than you arrived.

Because finishing isn’t only about reaching the summit.

It’s about coming back.

And choosing to climb again.

Footnotes

Story: Evan Wishloff. Photos: Megan Dunn, Brendan Ladd, Evan Wishloff.

Button Label

FootNotes

Story: Evan Wishloff. Photos: Megan Dunn, Brendan Ladd, Evan Wishloff.

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