Today is the birthday of our friend and fellow Blister reviewer, Eric Freson.
He was born on March 19, 1987, in Vermont.
He died on February 11, 2024, in a backcountry skiing accident in the Gunnison Valley.
He was loved and looked up to by so many of us in the Gunnison Valley, and beyond.
Eric was a force. He was singular. He will be greatly missed by the hundreds of people who attended his memorial service at Western Colorado University on February 17, and by hundreds of others whose lives he also impacted.
All of us who live in or visit mountain towns know that these small communities contain some individuals who are true gems. Eric was one of them. And we can all learn from him. If you do, you’ll be the better for it. And your community will be the better for it, too.
Around the Gunnison Valley, a common expression was to talk about doing ‘Eric Freson Things.’ It typically meant that you got yourself involved in — often with Eric himself — a long, hard, and / or multisport adventure. It was a shorthand way to communicate, “today was not your average ski tour, bike ride, etc.”
But as you’ll see, and as you’ll now hear from some of the people who knew him best and loved him most, doing ‘Eric Freson things’ means a whole lot more than this, too.
Rob Dickinson
This is what having Eric in my life was like. He had a tremendous amount of ability and skill at pretty much everything I ever wanted to be good at in the outdoors. So many of my personal firsts were with him, and should be credited to my having his help. I know so many people who would say the same.
This is likely the day in the mountains that I am most proud of. Mt Sneffels is an easy objective for a seasoned mountaineer like Eric. I was not that, and I’m still not. When you listen to the audio, you’ll see that I was fucking gripped here, and Eric talked me into every single placement of hand and foot with a cool head that he possessed on a level I’ve never seen from anyone else.
When I told Eric I wanted to ski this peak and I’d like his help, he said Yes before I could end the question. I’m not sure he ever even felt any more than engaged and present that day as he helped Dana, Brian, and myself through every step of the day, carried the rope for much of the day, and relished in a wonderful ski with us. We were all so happy party skiing the apron under the Snake in the spring sunshine, and even more when we arrived back at the truck at the end of a very long day.
We all had so much fun.
Later, I would edit a reel and put a song to cover over the audio of me shitting my pants and Eric ever so calmly talking me through it, so you all could think that it was a walk in the park for me, but it was only that for Eric.
I Love you so much Eric. I wish I didn’t have to do Eric Freson Things without you now.
Sarah Stubbe
February 11, 2024.
Eric, since this day, I’ve been trying to articulate the depth of your absence and what it would look like without the important conversations, the adventures, your light, and everything in between. I’m not certain it will ever become clear, but throughout these last days, I do know one thing that your life and the impression that you’ve made here on earth will remain with all of us for the rest of our lives.
I’ll always remember the day you chased down that moose on your bicycle, to scare it away from me and the trail; you were a protector through and through.
There were many firsts on bikes, skis, the river, and foot; you wanted to make sure we knew there were always new things to discover.
You listened to my griefs, my stressors, and my worries; it was a gentle reminder that these too, shall pass, and we would always come out stronger on the other side.
You scheduled lunch dates and movie time weeks in advance; it was a constant reminder that there was always something to look forward to.
You purposely left sheds in places that only you would be able to find again and directed me to them; you never wanted anyone to leave empty-handed.
You loved ketchup on everything.
You were cautious, meticulous, calculated, motivated and stubborn.
You loved Gunnison County and the people and friends in it.
You kept in touch with friends from afar as if it was your job.
You were loyal to your Vermont roots, and your mom, dad, and sister.
You checked in on Henry often, and cared deeply about his well-being, athletic endeavors, and how he was doing in school.
You loved Ailee and Daisy more than anything in the world.
You will be missed beyond measure, but your intentions for us, and impressions on us, will remain intact forever.
Until next time, ski you later, Eric Freson 🩷🩷
Henry Stubbe
Dear Eric, I miss you so much. Every time we hung out you never complained, got mad, or got down on yourself. Thank you so much for coming to all of my basketball home games. You were such an inspiration and a great supporter. My most favorite memory was when we went to First Bowl and you built the funnest jump with Rob Dickinson and lit off fireworks.
I always loved how you were always so grateful for everything and so nice to me and everyone around you, and you. I also will never forget that you gave me and my mom a lot of meat, and also deer antlers that are in my room. They will always remind me of you.
Ailee Larson
Dear Eric, I’m still struggling to put into words the depth of this loss and your absence. You were the most intentional and deep love I’ve ever experienced. You asked me daily, “What can I do for you?” And you always followed through. You were kind with your words, calculated in your thoughts, and acted with conviction. You loved me with purpose. You allowed me to love you, and you taught me to express myself in a more profound and deep way. You were my teacher.
You welcomed me into the Gunnison Valley, showing me my many firsts here. From scrambling Avery Peak to skiing Axtel, biking Star Pass to teaching me, start-to-finish, how to harvest an elk, you never said No to experiencing something new together. You welcomed these new experiences, and we shared our past experiences, too. You also helped me find my community and encouraged me to befriend the baddest biker chics in the valley. We were a team through and through. Thank you for sharing your world with me, and for loving me.
We had two hearts and one love. Lots of adventuring, and a lot of learning. You will always be with me.
Tom Runcie
Eric. For 15 years you have been one of the best friends I’ve ever had. The time we have shared in the mountains, at work, and among friends has been foundational in making me who I am. The intention with which you approached your life, from work to play, will always be an inspiration to me. So much of what I’ve learned about our shared pursuits has come from adventures born and edited endlessly in your head and your journals, then tacked together. Your patience and skill in meeting people where they are and where they needed you the most, then calmly offering them your time and care, was a gift we should all strive to emulate.
I hope to never forget your voice calmly telling me I can do something I’m on the fence about. I hope to never forget the laugh you would allow when you accomplished a goal you have set. I hope to always feel the gratitude you would express whenever our increasingly divergent schedules would line up and we could spend time together. I hope to follow the example of your exceptional life and be a better and more intentional friend, partner, and outdoorsman. I hope you heard our call and knew that we would move heaven and earth to find you. I hope our presence and love brought you peace at the end.
I wanted to do this with you for 40 more years. I wanted to see you and Ailee build your life together. I wanted you to teach Luca and Aidan how to do #ericfresonthings when the time was right. I wanted to watch you cross off more lines from your bucket list.
As this week has passed, your reach and impact has been obvious. You were admired and adored. You were the bedrock of this community, the solid footing on which so many lives and experiences were built, and your presence was a unifying force in the community. I can’t thank you enough for the time we had. I will miss you forever, my brother. I love you.
Austin Gibney
“Oh Captain, My Captain”
Eric was my best friend, something many of us can say. His personal traits of loyalty, dependability, trustworthiness, and compassion built strong relationships with others. While we all needed Eric, Eric needed all of us, since there was no single person who could keep up with him in all of his different pursuits, especially at the high level he did them at. He was peers with the best in what he did, but he also made time and space to introduce others to his passions. I was fortunate enough to experience both of these with Eric, as he got me to start mountain biking and I was getting close to going hunting with him.
But Eric was more than a friend, he was my adventure companion, which can’t be explained, only experienced. We shared a pair of twin ropes, each purchasing one. It’s essentially like a badass version of a friendship bracelet. While there are times when an individual twin rope can be used, they are strongest when together. This is fitting. We elevated each other to perform at our best when together in the mountains. This was possible, because of the trust we had in each other. We also made sure to have fun — lots of fun — along the way. All four types of fun. I experienced this in the mountains, but I’m sure others experienced this elevated performance biking, kayaking, hunting, working, or whatever you did with Eric.
The trust built in the mountains carried over to my whole life, as I entrusted Eric to care for my family if this situation was reversed. I hope my sons will find the same level of drive and passion in their lives as Eric had in his. I already see the same curiosity in them that Eric had.
Eric excelled at whatever he did, but he continued to strive to improve in all aspects of his life. He would openly share what he was working on, and was brave enough to ask others for help.
One of Eric’s final wishes was for his friends to move on from his absence. As I move forward, I will not leave him behind. He will be with me on the skin track, and the moment of weightlessness between takeoff and landing. He will be there biking in the tacky dirt, (more importantly) the loose gravel, and when I get that metallic taste in my mouth from pushing too hard uphill. He will be there reminding me to hit the throttle when sledding, he will be there on the rock and in the river, when helping a friend or a stranger, I will think of him when I create an organized list and when enjoying a well-prepared meal with friends. I will see him among the elk herd. And when it is snowing big fat flakes, I will picture his face — the one where he’s between a smirk and a smile — as if he’s keen to something the rest of us have not figured out yet.
I love you, Eric.
Dylan Wood
Eric. For years now, you’ve told me that I should take these skis out on a good day when I want to ski hard, assuring me I’d like them.
To be honest, I was always a little intimidated by them. I wasn’t sure what to do today, so I decided to ski hard this afternoon on your skis. Turns out, like most of the advice you’ve given, you were right — I loved them.
So I skied the lines I didn’t know were possible until you led me down them. I still remember that day vividly, we were standing on top of High Life for Ian and my first time, only having met just minutes before. I was so puckered, but the confidence you and Rob Dickinson gave me was all that I needed to step up and discover a whole new kind of skiing — the kind of skiing that would become one of the biggest joys of my life. Today, I skied like the skier I didn’t know I could become until you taught me.
That’s what you did — gave me and many others the tools to become the best skier, rider, boater, and person I could be, all while leading the way yourself. You had a way with words, knew how to make big obstacles more digestible, and had the most contagious stoke and confidence. You even helped me move into my new house last month, not offering, but *insisting* that you give me a hand.
I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Eric, and I’m not sure I will again.
2nd tracks only from here on out, forever trying to keep up.
#torksmash
Dana Kracaw
One night when we were all at dinner, I took this picture of Eric who was sitting on the opposite side of the table a few seats down from me. I then texted it to him with the message, “miss your presence.” He responded “miss your sass.” Little did I know how quickly my sass would turn to reality.
I’ve now spun another rotation around the sun, and I can’t stop thinking about how to be more present and show up more this year in the small, little, everyday moments.
Mikey Curran
Eric Freson was one of the best people I have ever met. He was a patient and calm teacher. He was a thoughtful and trustworthy friend. Eric was a badass and educated mountain man. His moral compass would only ever point north. He seemed to always have the right thing to say, and the right way to say it. Most of all, Eric always made time for whoever needed him.
For over a decade, I have leaned on Eric as a mentor, coach, and best friend. Eric made time to ski countless days in the mountains together. He taught me more in the mountains than anyone else. Every time I went out with him to do anything, I knew I would learn something. Not only did he take the time to teach me, he also took the time to be a friend.
Eric was the most genuine kind of friend. He never once hesitated to help me no matter how big or small the favor or problem. Eric put in so much time and genuine effort into being a friend.
I know that Eric has so many friends that feel the same way. We were all lucky to share that time with him.
He was the best. I am going to miss him.
Jesse Levine
My heart is broken after the passing of Eric Freson.
Broken for his friends who felt his last breaths leave his body. Broken for his family and community that have to fill the void of his loss. Broken for the memories I won’t get to make with him.
I’ll never see Eric’s mischievous smile again, hear his soft spoken words of wisdom on a skin track, or share silly adventures in our backyard. No more holidays spent chasing him and our friends around the ski hill, night skiing under a full moon, or sharing elk tacos from his latest hunting adventure.
It’s easy to dwell on the things we will miss about Eric, it’s too many to list. It’s hard to imagine life without him.
Eventually the grief will loosen its grip on our community and we can take that pain and turn it into a light we can share with the world. If we can all bring a little bit of Eric Freson to those around us, the world will be a better place.
Be Brave. Be Kind. Be Humble.
That was Eric, and I know he would be proud of us all if we could be those things, too.
Luke Koppa
On a daily basis, one of my primary tasks is to come up with the best way to sum up something so that as many people as possible can understand it as I do. But, man, I’ve been pretty fucking stumped on this one.
Sometimes I start to feel like I’m getting somewhere.
Like when I smoke the hell out of a rock and can’t help but laugh, thinking how you’d told me during my first season in CB that you could tell whether what you’d just skied over was igneous or metamorphic, just by the smell.
Or when I’m puckered out of my mind on a bike or skis or just daily life, thinking back to your calm, reassuring, but never overbearing presence in tense situations.
Or when I randomly think of a friend and actually reach out to them — and then continue to follow up about connecting — just as you did countless times to me, despite the fact that I failed to follow through on my end far too often.
As the few words I could jot down at your memorial service said: Thanks For Never Giving Up On Me.
But those are still just small facets of a person that impacted those around him in so many other ways.
What I do know is that I’ll never be satisfied with any mess of words I can come up with in an attempt to describe who you were to me and what you meant to so many people in this valley and beyond.
But as I continue to struggle with that goal, I’m extremely thankful that so many others who knew and loved you have eloquently and precisely done just that, better than I ever could.
I desperately hope that, one day, I can come close to doing you justice. And doing you proud. In the meantime, I’ll now be looking for inspiration from all the others who are continuing to do #EricFresonThings all around me, all thanks to you.
Happy Birthday, Eric.
Jonathan Ellsworth
“Do Eric Freson Things.” To me (and as you should now see why), that mantra means a whole lot more to me than simply, ‘Get out & go adventure.”
Now, to be clear, it most certainly means that.
But to me, the most important thing to take from Eric was his absolute readiness to lend a hand to anyone in need, to help and encourage people however he could.
Sometimes, that would mean helping a person (in this case, me) unload a big, stuffed, U-Haul truck in the middle of a raging blizzard, late at night, when I moved from New Mexico to CB. I made only one phone call that night for help. It was to Eric. And, of course, he quickly said Yes.
Sometimes, that would mean badgering a person (also me) to shut their damn laptop and go skiing with him.
The thing I hope never to forget from the example Eric set was how deeply he cared about his community, his people. That went for his good friends, but it also extended to those in Gunnison he volunteered his time to help — people he didn’t know, but who were in need — which is something that he never once mentioned to me. It’s something I learned from Eric’s father and mother only after he had passed.
Many people love the Gunnison Valley. But I maintain that nobody loved the Gunnison Valley more than Eric. The mountains, the outdoor access, and the people here. Thoreau wrote of his desire to “suck the marrow out of life.” Eric sustained himself on the marrow of this place and its people.
Some of this comes across in the ‘Reviewing the Reviewer’ conversation Luke Koppa and I had with Eric a while back. We viewed these conversations as good opportunities to introduce the broader world to the remarkable people on our team. But now, I am so grateful we recorded it because it shows so well who Eric was, and what he cared about. And it means a lot to us that many people have watched this video for the chance to see Eric being Eric.
Of course, Eric was too humble to mention in this conversation the countless people he regularly helped. But you’ve heard us attest to that here today.
And the testimonies here, coupled with this laid-back, often silly conversation with Eric in Blister HQ, offer a pretty accurate picture of the man.
This is who we lost.
This is who we loved.
And this is the person we were so fortunate to have come into our lives.
Let’s now honor him by remembering, and replicating, how he treated others.
Thank you, Eric.
Rest in Peace.
Beautiful, moving, tear-inducing tribute. I can only say how sorry I am for your loss and how much I wish I had met Eric
Sorry for the loss to All you guys @ blister, big love from italy- He wont ever be forgotten, we def. gonna let his Flag fly even here in south tirol !!!
Eric’s review’s were always my favorites but the best one was when he rolled out the Torksmash meter! I still find myself using it in my own day to day skiing when evaluating how hard I want to go.
Link below to my all time favorite Blister review featuring Eric and the crew. RIP Eric – you will be missed!!
https://blisterreview.com/gear-reviews/2020-2021-rossignol-blackops-sender-ti
Inspirational
He was one of the good ones! Blessed to be able to call him my cousin. I can still hear his laugh and will miss him dearly. While I am not surprised at all of the good Eric did, the amount of outpouring has been incredible. He truly had a big heart and this tribute gave us a glimpse of it. I’m trying to instill one of Eric’s tips of smiling more in my life.
Very Cool! I especially enjoyed watching the podcast. We miss you Eric …
This is awesome enjoy watching