Caite Zeliff’s Superpower

Just weeks after a life-changing crash in Alaska’s Chugach Mountains, Caite Zeliff stood atop a 4,000-foot couloir. The entrance was no more than a ski length wide, and exposed chunks of rock peppered the snow. The sun blared down and the snow glared back. Thousands of feet below, steep rock walls gave way to mellower terrain, but dozens of turns stood between Zeliff and the relative safety of the apron. “Take it slow, this is when accidents happen,” she told herself. “I have nothing to prove.”

Until this trip, most of Zeliff’s experience in Alaska had involved helicopters. But not this week. Booting line after line, winter camping, and assessing snow conditions had taken a toll on her, mentally and physically. “That’s kind of the situation that tends to find myself ending in injury,” she says.

Zeliff was filming for a personal project in the Tordrillos, but for that moment, she ignored the cameras. Nursing an already-broken hand and an undiagnosed brain injury from her Chugach crash, she knew this was no time to take unnecessary risks. Side slipping, she picked her way into the couloir, scraping against rocks. Zeliff fought the urge to start turning until the terrain eased up and allowed her to ski with confidence. She caught up to her close friend, Morgan McGlashon, on the glacier below. The two hollered and embraced, grateful for their safe descent. For Zeliff, the moment was a success—a triumph in practicing restraint.

Knowing when to dial it back is a skill that Zeliff is still working to develop. The 31-year-old is known for both her fearlessness while hucking herself off cliffs and her eclectic, seemingly carefree personality. But below the surface, decades of battling her own nervous system has landed Zeliff on a multi-year journey of healing and introspection.

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