An Ode To Telemark's River Man – Pete Van De Carr

Sitting at the edge of the Yampa River in downtown Steamboat Springs, dappled in the shade of cottonwood leaves readying to burst into their autumnal blaze, things seem quiet, usual, serene. There, amongst ancient river rocks, sits an old one-story building clad in aging wood siding. But there’s more to this old structure than its Old West motif and rugged exterior. Humble as it is, the building has for decades housed a charmingly anachronistic ski and river shop known as Backdoor Sports that has played an outsized role in the outdoor movement. And that day, it quietly basked in the late season sun beside the churning Yampa.

From the modest confines of this little retailer, a river rafting free-heel skier named Pete Van De Carr quietly influenced the outdoor and telemark discourse for decades before his untimely passing last winter, a loss that reverberates not only through town, but throughout the outdoor communities he long impacted.

Still, the river flowed by, carrying a smattering of yellow leaves as it reflected the cobalt sky; always changing yet appearing steadfast. As Hesse wrote of Siddhartha and his ferryman, “he saw that this water ran and ran incessantly, and nevertheless was always there at all times, the same and yet new every moment! The one who grasped this and understood this was great! He did not understand and grasp it, but felt some inkling of it stirring, a distant memory and divine voices.”

While so much seemed the same that day, something is indeed different in town this fall. Van De Carr–a skier and a river lover; a hockey goalie and guitar playing polymath of fun–is missing from town for the first time in some forty-five years. But what he leaves behind is far more than a void.

Van De Carr–who passed away last winter at the age of 70 in a skiing accident–wasn’t your usual ski town local. The flow of traffic to his memorial last spring didn’t clog just one road; the entirety of downtown was choked with the multitudes making their way to pay their respects to a man who not only owned that core ski shop by the river, but who embodied something modestly transcendent. Blocks not even connected to the main thoroughfare to his celebration were affected. It was fitting, really. Because Pete Van De Carr’s influence, ever positive, imbued the community in a similar fashion.

Van De Carr had made his way to Steamboat Springs in the late 1970s, tutoring students in math and taking to typical ski town jobs in between free-heel skiing, hiking, and rafting. After tearing his achilles tendon gelande jumping in 1986, he and friend Ken Stone opened Backdoor Sports out of a building basement. By the early nineties the outdoor outfitter had relocated to its renowned location, a funky old haunt with barnwood siding just steps from the Yampa River. But the humble business was more than a waypoint by the river. While Backdoor Sports was filled with the equipment of the diehard telemark skier, river runner, and more, it also held a mellow mystique few modern ski shops can equal, its secrets and curios helping to create an aura that was more than the sum of its parts. Old rental tele boots sat as bookends to stacks of dogeared river guides and old topographic maps of Dinosaur National Monument. Perhaps long since out of print works on backcountry and free-heel skiing made the space as much a heady library as a business, infusing Backdoor Sports with a funky, halcyon vibe that echoed the genuine outdoor experience.

“When I came here, obviously one of the first places I went to, like many people, was the really cool backcountry shop on the river,” remembers Gretchen Van De Carr, Pete’s wife of twenty-six years. They had first met in that shop nearly a decade before marrying, when Gretchen came in looking for a pair of telemark skis to rent. 

Gretchen had come to Steamboat Springs in the early 1990s and established the Rocky Mountain Youth Corps, an outdoor mentorship and trail-building outfit aimed at getting young people into the wilderness. 

Both the Van De Carr’s were focused on stewardship and wild places, and prioritized sharing them. “Pete has a different story for how he found Steamboat Springs, but the sentiment is the same,” says Gretchen. “I spent my life getting young people outdoors and improving the land and appreciating everything that goes into not only protecting the land but getting people excited about it.”

While Backdoor Sports under Van De Carr’s tutelage was a core backcountry ski shop and river outfitter, he always had a wider purview. And each summer many visitors to town floated down the Yampa on tubes provided by Backdoor Sports. “Like Pete used to say, you get people on the river, even if it’s just tubing, and they appreciate the river because they’ve experienced it, then they’re more inclined to want to save it,” Gretchen says.

Beyond his river exploits, Pete’s legacy is undeniably attached to the telemark skiing movement. And while ever quiet, the modern free-heel culture was unmistakably molded in ways small and large by Van De Carr. “He helped to grow The Turn as much as anyone from the retail sector,” says Chris Valiante, co-owner and co-designer at 22 Designs, amongst the most well-regarded telemark binding companies in the world.  “He always had plenty of extra tele gear to rent or loan out to folks who hadn’t tried tele, and may have walked in looking for alpine or AT gear. The telemark world will miss him.”

Part of Van De Carr’s approach to spreading the word on telemark was refreshingly old fashioned. He would often rent free-heel equipment to skiers free of charge, and with his ever-present smile and mellow good nature would gladly talk shop with anyone who came into the store. He also eschewed the modern trappings of ski equipment sales in favor of a more intimate, relatable approach. “Pete was first and foremost a skier and tele-vangelist. He sold huge amounts of gear out of a small shop with no online sales,” says Valiante.

Months after his memorial, and in the fading light of a beautiful spring evening, nearly a thousand souls joined Gretchen and their two sons for a ski in Pete’s honor. The ski area opened the gondola after hours, groomed a few runs to the base, and the many who attended shared turns and stories as the sun set.

“At every opportunity people would stop in small groups and talk and look at the beautiful scene,” says Gretchen. “It was just so endearing, and everybody had a smile on their face.”

A smile is what Pete so often himself carried. Asked how a ski day was, he would legendarily respond “best day ever.”

Gretchen points to that positivity as core to what made Pete the person he was. “Pete would always tell me that he’s not a natural athlete, and he isn’t, he wasn’t. He severed his achilles tendon gelande jumping, and he was compromised there. He had to work extra hard to become efficient at any sport, but he never let any excuse get in his way,” she says. 

“Even with music, he wasn’t the best guitar player or singer, but man, he loved it, and people loved to watch him because he loved it. And he skied everyday, and he fell every day; he fell numerous times every day because he was pushing it. So I guess the thing is; don’t let your limitations limit you. Don’t let your excuses get in your way of doing what you want to do.”

Last season, on a mid-winter’s day, I stood at the base of the ski area with my seven-month-old daughter. There we waited where my wife and our three-year-old son would end their ski run; a mound of groomed snow that in summer gave way to a small creek my children loved playing in. There, a free-heel skier with grey wisps of hair escaping from under his beanie came to a stop, and spied the telemark boots on my feet. 

“She’s going to telemark, right?” the man said of my daughter as he smiled. I told the stranger I most certainly would introduce her to The Turn I, too, so loved. Our brief, friendly exchange concluded, the man shouldered his skis, and walked on.

But he really wasn’t a stranger. He didn’t know me, but I certainly knew him. His presence was unmistakable. His aura was impossible to miss. It was Pete Van De Carr.

Gretchen has created the Best Day Ever Fund in Pete’s honor, providing youth ages 5-18 years  of age with anything they need to help them have their “best day ever” through the provision of gear, equipment, and tuition; all for healthy fun – Check it out here.