I found some wood and started to fire and dance even though there wasn't any music.

I went to meetings, I wrote the letters, and pretty soon I wasn't alone.

Get out of the truck when you hike through this field with your surf boards.

I'm like there's no way there's going to be waves here.

At Patagonia, we are climbers and skiers.

We are surfers and anglers. We're activists and dreamers.

Stories of the fabric of our share culture and we're proud to sponsor the dirtbag diaries.

Visit us at Patagonia.com

So I want you to imagine yourself in this moment.

We had 14,000 feet in the thin air and lack of sleep.

This is left your legs feeling weak. Like you've got rocks tied to your ankles.

15 hours ago, you were at sea level and logging off your email at work.

10 hours ago, but most of your friends were on their way to barbecue.

On a warm June night, you left the trail head and darkness.

I'm plotted all night long through thinning clouds.

The skis chatter like castonets across the firm snow.

In front of you, there's a string of mountains, the sparkling water of Pudet sound,

and nothing but deep raw space.

Beneath you, the mountain drops away so steeply that you cannot see the face of ice, snow, and rock.

You have come here to ski.

But it's out there, waiting.

You can see the general pitch of the glacier, 5,000 feet below, but everything between.

...