I made a multigenerational group of friends — from Gen Zers to Boomers — doing ski patrol

• I started cross-country skiing as a way to deal with seasonal affective disorder.
• I ended up joining Backcountry Ski Patrol and making an intergenerational group of friends.

My friend Julie is a badass outdoorswoman. Like me, she runs and hikes and bicycles. Unlike me, she's a terrific skier. I grew up on the beach near Los Angeles with surf, not snow. Now, I live in Oregon.

Two years ago, when the dank Willamette Valley winters threatened to bury me in seasonal affective disorder, I begged Julie to teach me to cross-country ski. In the mountains near my house, I discovered not only bluebird skies above snowy slopes, but a group of multigenerational friends who inspired me to join Backcountry Ski Patrol.

My group of patrollers includes everyone from Gen Zers to Boomers

On my first day of patrolling, Julie introduced me to college students eager to learn search-and-rescue skills and to volunteers who'd been patrolling our forested trails for three decades.

The members of our patrol in the Willamette National Forest span four generations, from Gen Zers to Boomers. Julie and I are the median age, solidly Gen Xers. She introduced me to college students eager to learn search-and-rescue skills and to volunteers who'd been patrolling our forested trails for three decades. "They're all kind, competent people who want to spend time outdoors while giving back to the community," she told me.

I worried that other patrollers wouldn't take me seriously. I was kind, but I wasn't competent in the snow. Last year, I became a patrol candidate, committed to learning — over two years — how to navigate with a map and compass and use a two-way radio. I spent a grueling 10 weeks earning my certificate in outdoor emergency skills.

Now, on winter weekends, I help to keep the backcountry cabin heated and stocked with hot drinks and maps for visitors. Some of us cross-country ski. Others snowshoe. We traverse the surrounding trails to help people who've gotten injured or lost on their way to nearby lakes and shelters.

No matter our age, we all learn from each other

In my first year, I struggled on hilly terrain. "I'm leery of skiing steep slopes," I confessed to a patroller 15 years younger than I as we headed out to restock a shelter with kindling and matches. "I regularly faceplant."

He traded me skiing advice for parenting tips; he had young children, and my teen and I had recently survived her adolescence.

In my second year, I've witnessed similar information-sharing across generations between others. Every volunteer has wisdom to impart, and the mix of ages guarantees lively discussion. My patrolling friends are financial planners, professors, artists, pilots, and EMTs. Midday, our cabin turns into a party. Volunteers in red jackets with white First Aid crosses gather around the wood stove to share lunch, along with tales of past snow-camping adventures, hut-to-hut hiking, and thrilling rescues.

"I built an igloo and slept in it overnight," a Gen Z volunteer said. "It was pretty toasty."

"Next summer, after I retire, I'm hiking through the Alps," an older volunteer told us.

"Last weekend, I skied 10 miles to Maiden Peak Shelter and spent the night, then skied back to the Sno-Park." This last offering came from a patroller pushing 70.

"I think I'll stop complaining about my bum knee," I whispered to Julie.

Listening to patrollers 20 years my senior, I see the person I hope to become — a skilled and resilient outdoorswoman who doesn't let a little osteoarthritis slow her down on the trails. I'm probably never going to be a phenomenal cross-country skier. But I've learned enough from my fellow patrollers of all ages that I'm able to help lost and injured visitors in the backcountry.

These days, I can ski downhill without face-planting in a snowdrift. I can bandage a sprained ankle and navigate with a map and compass. In my red vest with the First Aid cross, I head out into the cold on weekend mornings to make sure visitors remain happy and safe. I stack and chop wood for the fire, clean the public restrooms, and help staff the cabin until dusk. It's a long day, and I'm glad of it. I get to hang out with some of my favorite people in the world, and I feel competent in the snowy backcountry, at last.