High in the jagged peaks of the Sierra Nevada, the “Amateurs” were anything but. They were a ragtag crew of freelance mountain guides, named for their love of the climb rather than the paycheck. But this winter, the snow hadn't come, and their bank accounts were as thin as the mountain air.
Weeks later, a massive semi-truck wound its way up the dirt path to their valley. It didn't bring a check. It brought three gleaming, matte-black overland trailers, outfitted with satellite hubs and reinforced hulls.
The Amateurs didn't hesitate. They spent forty-eight hours straight rigging cameras to their helmets, drones to their packs, and skis to their feet. Their mission was to scout and film "The Spine," a legendary, unridden ridge that looked more like a serrated knife than a mountain.
High in the jagged peaks of the Sierra Nevada, the “Amateurs” were anything but. They were a ragtag crew of freelance mountain guides, named for their love of the climb rather than the paycheck. But this winter, the snow hadn't come, and their bank accounts were as thin as the mountain air.
Weeks later, a massive semi-truck wound its way up the dirt path to their valley. It didn't bring a check. It brought three gleaming, matte-black overland trailers, outfitted with satellite hubs and reinforced hulls.
The Amateurs didn't hesitate. They spent forty-eight hours straight rigging cameras to their helmets, drones to their packs, and skis to their feet. Their mission was to scout and film "The Spine," a legendary, unridden ridge that looked more like a serrated knife than a mountain.