The last weekend of February, 2012: a small band of  broskis took to the Southern San Juans in search of a new form of freedom. They had little idea of what they were getting themselves into. It was, at the time, no more than a rebellious and ineffable gesture towards a prescribed and predetermined existence - like Tom and Huck pushing off the banks, addressing the shadows and making friends with wild dogs. A Quest: of Men, of Mountains, and of Fire!

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Amongst the aprons and icefall of Wolf Creek Pass they hunted like young lions chasing death with its black fur dappled with pale crosses - who ran before them in the vast violet sky, palpable and living. And then a voice, "Let us leave good sense behind like a hideous husk and let us hurl our undies, like fruit spiced with pride, into the immense mouth of the fire ring! Let us feed the unknown, not from despair, but simply to enrich the unfathomable reservoirs of Ullr!"

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They declared that night that the splendor of the world had been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of Ullr! The uphill double march of legs drumming like machine-gun fire, a ring of fire with its bonnet adorned with undies like mosaics of explosive breath, the gliding flight of descent - whose carving turns bathed in glowing crimson sound like the flapping of a flag and the applause of enthusiastic crowds, and the nocturnal afterglow of laughter and rebirth were all more beautiful than the first sunrise of our millennial darkness!   

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They returned as Radbros, forever changed. They spoke the word of Ullr and brought others into the fold. Each broski bringing with him the offering of a kindred spirit, drawn to the flame, adding their own undies to their vested patchwork of thunder-fuckery. Missionaries of Radness. Straight-gays whose spirited chair lift banter testifies to the higher purpose of U.L.L.R. itself: 

 

To strip life down to its undies and send it through a flaming quaff of molten elastic, emerging from the other side wild-eyed and reborn - a truer version of oneself.

 

To reduce skiing down to a single point of cosmic impact, where it becomes all things - if not, more specifically, the purest expression of love for Undies.

 

To explore the contours of new lands and adorn our vests with the spoils of our exploits.  

 

To return from the feast broken and battered, dog tired and bone weary. Feeling as though we’ve tamed death - a better human. 

 

To fulfill a promise that no matter where we find ourselves, and in what condition, there lives a place and time where a completely illogical, dangerous, and playfully bizarre ritual exists to save us from ourselves. THIS is the promise of U.L.L.R. 

 

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