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Snowbasin Recap

The Launch Pad

By 29029 Everesting

August 7^th, 2025

At nearly 6,400 feet above sea level, Snowbasin starts higher than most.

And then you climb higher.

It’s no surprise this mountain became a launch pad.

Not only was it the second-ever 29029, it’s also the most climbed in our history.

Nine events later, it’s still one of the most iconic.

But it’s more than just a legacy.

It’s also the launch pad for so many first-time 29029 climbers. This year, nearly 90% of you were joining 29029 for the first time.

It marked the moment where you stopped wondering if you belonged and realized that you did.

29029 Snowbasin is where you took your first step into something bigger.

Seven Summits, One Story

At Snowbasin, the journey to Everest wasn’t just about reaching one summit.

It was about earning seven.

The Seven Summits are a nod to the tallest peak on each continent, and they act as key milestones along the way.

They were more than just checkmarks on the back of your bib.

They were moments that shaped you.

Reminders of what you’d endured.

Proof of what you were capable of.

Your story - this Snowbasin story - was marked by those summits.

Kosciuszko

The first checkmark came after your fourth ascent - Kosciuszko.

By then, the altitude had taken hold.

The steep, dusty terrain, sun-soaked slopes, and early aches in your legs proved one thing.

This wasn’t just a hike.

It was an ultra-endurance test of you versus you.

And you versus the mountain.

That first checkmark on your bib wasn’t just a milestone: it was momentum.

You were here.

You were climbing.

Vinson

After seven ascents, you earned your next checkmark.

If Kosciusko was momentum, Vinson was resistance.

This one hurt.

The heat wouldn’t let up. The mountain turned into a furnace, daring you to climb again.

Cooling towels were dunked, ice bandanas reloaded, and electrolytes downed as you answer the call.

The drive to keep climbing was real.

Not only were you over halfway to Everest, but you’d entered the checkmark zone.

A string of summits waited to be conquered.

If you could earn them.

This was the thick of it.

No turning back now.

Elbrus

The sun finally relented.

Light faded. Shadows stretched.

And then… relief.

As night fell, your next summit awaited: Elbrus.

Eight ascents in.

Headlamps flicked on. Layers were added.

And the mountain changed.

Quieter. More reflective.

A different kind of hard.

In the dark, the mountain felt bigger.

And you felt smaller.

But you climbed anyway.

Denali and Kilimanjaro

After the stillness of night, broken only by the beam of your headlamp, the sun began to rise again.

And with it came something more than light.

A jolt of belief.

Energy.

Renewed determination.

Your ninth climb earned you two summits on the back of your bib: Denali and Kilimanjaro.

One ascent. Two checkmarks.

A rare double reward.

And a needed one.

Because this was the tipping point.

Proof that even after darkness, fatigue, and doubt, you could still rise.

Still climb.

Still believe.

Aconcagua

By now, your bib held five checkmarks.

Hard-fought. Well-earned.

Your legs were heavy. Your mind, worn thin.

Although the Utah heat had returned, Everest finally felt within reach.

And that’s when the mountain tested you again.

Your 10th ascent - Aconcagua - plays tricks.

It’s not the end.

Not even close.

But it feels like it should be.

You’d gotten used to steady rewards: checkmarks every lap on your bib.

Now?

A void.

Three more climbs.

No more checkmarks until the big one.

Everest.

This was your moment.

Everest

Your final three ascents were the last test.

Every brand on the board served a quiet reminder: you were still at it.

Heat. Dust. Incline.

Didn’t matter.

None of it stopped you.

And by your 13th climb, it all caught up.

The effort. The exhaustion. The meaning behind each step.

And then… the summit.

Not just the top of the mountain.

Something personal.

Something earned.

It wasn’t about proving anything to the world.

It was about proving something to yourself.

And now, you had the Red Hat to show for it.

The Why Behind the Summits

Even though the checkmarks mean so much, the real story of Snowbasin isn’t written in the numbers.

It’s written in the why.

In the friends who climbed for something bigger than themselves.

In the couples who strengthened bonds through shared struggle.

In those who chose to return not just for a new Red Hat, but to bring someone else to the mountain.

Because behind every summit is a reason.

And behind every reason is someone who showed up, gave their all, and left with something more.

These are just a few of the many people who made this year’s Snowbasin climb unforgettable:

Climbing for Pickles

Brian O’Connor and Rich Herrick weren’t just climbing for themselves. They were climbing for Pickles.

Not the food.

The people.

The non-profit group that provides support and resources for kids impacted by a parent’s cancer.

It’s a community close to their hearts, and one they carried with them up the mountain.

From the very first climb, they carried more than just weight in their legs - they carried names, faces, and stories that fueled every step.

With each ascent, they raised awareness and funds. With each summit, they honored the strength of the kids they were representing.

And they finished in Red.

Chosen Again

For Allie and Brian Messmore, 29029 wasn’t just about chasing Everest.

It was about showing up for each other, one climb at a time.

They didn’t reach Everest. But that was never the point.

Through the heat, dust, and 36 hours on the mountain, they gutted it out, climbing towards something greater than a finish line.

And in that moment - tired, exhausted, depleted - on the summit, they chose to renew their vows.

No ceremony, no crowd, just the trail beneath them, the mountain below them, and the shared strength that got them there.

They may not have earned Red Hats, but they left with something more:

A quiet, powerful reminder that they would keep choosing each other.

Even when things got hard.

Especially when things got hard.

Brothers on the Mountain

For alumni like Tim Komis, 29029 isn’t just familiar.

It’s sacred.

He’s worn the Red Hat before.

He’s earned the Black Bib.

But this time, he wasn’t climbing for himself.

He was climbing for his brother, Rod.

Tim brought Rod to 29029 for the first time, not just to witness what the mountain could do, but to feel it.

To struggle. To grow. To find out what he was made of.

They climbed side by side.

Not always fast. Not always smooth.

But always together.

Because that’s what brothers do.

And they found the summit together.

Sometimes the most meaningful ascents aren’t about how far you go.

Sometimes they are about who you help bring up with you.

Every Summit Counts

For the 59% who reached Everest at Snowbasin, the celebration was real.

But so was the respect for the 41% who didn’t.

Because 29029 doesn’t celebrate Everest instead of the other summits - it celebrates because of all of them.

Every climb.

Every moment of doubt.

Every decision to take one more step.

That’s what you earned out here.

Not just a Red Hat.

But a deeper sense of what you’re capable of.

No matter how many summits you earned, you’re part of the 29029 community.

And now, you’ll never climb alone 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

Lance Friedman

Snowbasin Recap

The Launch Pad

FootNotes

Do One More

No Emotion, Just Motion

Brian Goldstein

The Foundation for the Summit

Tom Turcich

Higher Together