John Bresee

10 years of trying to become the best outdoor gear etailer (written in 2005)

Ten years ago we placed an order from our first vendors: one pair of Atomic Tourcap Light skis, one pieps 457 (pre opti-finder), Life-link probe poles…that’s all I can remember, but it may well have been our entire inventory for the first year. It was peaceful in those days; a man could put the answering machine on and tour in piece back then, knowing that no business would disturb him. Oh how it’s changed.

We began working on a t-shirt to commemorate this anniversary, something for those who have been part of the freight train…and we batted ideas around and one that seemed to stick was a word cloud, a collection of words that resonate with the people in the company, shaped like our venerable goat logo. Here are some of the words that made it and some that didn’t:

Glenn—the long suffering UPS driver who had to endure ever larger piles of gear going out the door. Sandy Brown—the sales rep who first took a gamble on us. Christian—the one man locomotive, don’t get in his way. Breezecom—the wireless network that occasionally connected us to the internet from the sticks of Heber, Utah. Rhett—who answered the phone when the Breezecom wouldn’t talk. ShopSite and BarneyBooks—you were so good to us when we were young, but as in all dysfunctional relationships, someone had to grow up. Patient partners—the enduring constancy of my partner who had the stick-to-itiveness to know that there would be light at the end of the tunnel. Sid Ewing—first developer, ‘nuff said. Spaletto/Lajoy/Uhland—there isn’t a golf swing amongst them, but good partners are hard to find so we’ll keep ‘em. Snake Creek—sucking two-stroke fumes at seven am from the company snowmobile on the way to the Backcountry.com private reserve. Grover—for his honest feedback. OR—for putting on a show in our back yards. Google—Sergey, Larry, nice work boys, we owe you one. Interchange—the hardest working open source platform in the business, why must you be so complex. Sara and Beth—who suffered and celebrated along with us. Dustin—who put up with my half-assed management style at three different companies. He has gear and ecommerce more deeply embedded in his DNA than any other man on the planet. Jeff Carter—who took our cold-call while at the Sundance Company and was visionary enough to see where we were going. Midnight server crashes, Hat in a Bag, Backcountry Bob(s), water filters, snow clogs, Suunto’s, Erin, trekking poles, SnowThug.com, SteakFry.com, bcstore.com, Axis41, Luther, WebSideStory, Cheryl, Sam, and on and on…too many words, memories, people.

Gearheads–the people who work at Backcountry.com, the people who wake up dreaming about gear, live for testing it, and have worked their butts off to make this the company that it is.

Gear Freaks of the world–For ten years we have fought to bring you the finest gear on the planet, describe it in an honest light-hearted way. Ship it to you faster than you thought possible and always, always treat you as we would like to be treated, with honesty and respect. Thanks for your faith.

The Wasatch Mountains—without our church none of this would have been possible.

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The risky way is the safe way and the safe way is the risky way

We stood at the top of a line we had never skied. It was steep, three tight moves over small cliff bands, straight line, then done. Fast, fugly, but doable. As always the Tan Farmer dropped in first, nailed it and moved on. Loki followed seconds later, looking kind of spazzy all backseat, no rhythm, another displaced east-coast bumper trying to ski the West. But he was through cleanly, no lost shoes. I was left with Lawyer-boy, a better skier than the rest of us, smooth. Lawyer-boy said, “I have a job, I have a wife, I love skiing, I have a bad back, I don’t need to do this shit, I’ve got nothing to prove.” And then he dropped in and proved the thing that didn’t need proving.

And like a thousand days before I stood alone at the top of a line, fully gripped. Riddled with self-doubt…and then I dropped. And I came out the ass-end of the chute–jacket chattering in the wind—ripping like I was channeling Seth Morrison, alive! Seth would have laughed at this shot but it was great to be me.

It’s amazing how we have to keep relearning the same simple rules; the risky way is the safe way and the safe way is the risky way. There isn’t much difference between dropping that line and taking a risk at work; or committing in relationships, having a child, starting a company, riding your first century. In all cases the easy way, the safe way is not to go, to stay at home, stay single, stay on the couch.

Eddie Aikau was one of the pioneers of big wave surfing. He disappeared in 1978 attempting a 20 mile life or death paddle between islands. Afterwards his friends would look at the surf and say, “Eddie would go.” I think about Eddie, I think about him in the boardroom, in the backcountry, on top of peaks and during especially tense and painful moments in relationships. Eddie would take the risk, Eddie knew that only in risk is there reward.

As I look at 10 years of work on this company, the hundreds of thousands of man hours that have gone into this, I see the fruition of many hard and painful decisions. Every worthwhile thing seems to come through hard fought gains. Appreciation only comes with sacrifice. And thankfully the people at Backcountry.com have had the courage to ask and answer the question of whether Eddie would go. And they do, time and again, hang it/out risk it all, until they succeed.

Every time I have to relearn this lesson I am surprised at myself, surprised that the lifelong battle is always against fear and if I am not consciously fighting it then I am quietly losing to it.

Thank you Edward Ryan Makua Hanai Aikau

And thank you Larry Hamill for writing the inspiring book, Leading the Revolution. I use your ideas to shape my life.

John on the Playa, happy

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