Welcome to the most important gear review of all time.
This dumb story originally ran on Eastern-Adventure.com, a site created by former FREESKIER Staffer, Connor Davis. Follow along on Instagram: @EasternAdventure.
Product: Orange Sled
Price: 12 bucks
Rating: ★★★★★
“How much for that beaut’?” I asked, pointing toward the long, orange sled in the corner.
“12 bucks I think,” said Paul with a shrug. Paul is my go-to hardware store dude.
“Ya goin’ sleddin’?” he asked.
“Kinda,” I said.
I was goin’ on my first ski-touring hut trip, which meant I had to pack about 1,000 belongings to feel prepared. A backpack would not do the trick. I needed a sled—one that would transport all 1,000 of my things up a mountain in the middle-of-nowhere, Vermont.
My budget was about 10 bucks, but Paul—that wheelin’-and-dealin’ son of a bitch—drove a hard bargain on the 12-dollar orange steed.
Plus, I knew it’d hold everything on my packing list.
The gang—two ski shop employees, a realtor, a painter, a firefighter and a Ski The East sales guy—met at a remote parking lot that had taken the form of an ice cube thanks to recent weather. There’d been rain, cold temps and a little more rain because it was February in New England and why the fuck not. As we packed up, we took turns dramatically eating shit like cartoons—windmilling our arms and running in place until eventually smacking down on the frozen ground. Nothing was going well.
But the hut was booked. We were going to the hut.
We ascended through the Green Mountains on rain-beaten snow, and the orange sled elegantly glided behind me like a sturdy yacht on a smooth sea. The product carried itself with impeccable fluidity and unsurpassed balance; a true beacon of hope on an otherwise-ominous day. Meanwhile, my peasant friends towed 5-dollar green sleds that cracked like eggs (never get the green sled, always orange), or carried multiple packs without any sleds at all. I scoffed at them all under my breath.
“What a bunch of fools.”
“What a bunch of dinguses.”
“SAD.”
We spent two days out there, among weather that remained warm, wet and generally terrible. The snow was even worse—melting rapidly and covered with debris. But the hut? Oh, the hut was great.
And the trip? Well, the trip was perfect. By day, we wandered aimlessly through the woods, across rivers and alongside swamps (we affectionately dubbed ourselves the swamp bois)—not exactly looking for zones to ski but, rather, nature-walking around with our skins on. By night, we played cards, made fried chicken, failed to ration our beer, laughed our butts off and didn’t look at our phones. It’d be ungrateful to ask for anything more.
And the sled lives on. It’s in my basement right now, resting. I look at it every time I do the laundry. And every damn time, it makes me grin.
5 Stars.
