My Brother, Mason Boos

Mason Boos was born on December 1st, 1995 in Rapid City, South Dakota. Early on in our friendship I remember thinking, “South Dakota?! How could someone from South Dakota know anything about the mountains??” Man, was I dearly wrong and couldn’t have been more ignorant. Mason cut his teeth climbing runout knobs and quartz crystals in The Black Hills and skiing rails and jumps at Terry Peak, a small ski area in the Black Hills. Mason’s natural ability in athletics was remarkable. Someone who could pick up anything first try and probably be better than you at whatever it was you were trying so hard damn hard to be good at. He worked several odd jobs around Custer State Park as well as working landscaping for his pops Ty Jurgens before heading west. By the time I met Mason he had already lived in Colorado, Montana and was now relocated into a van in Salt Lake City. Parking wherever seemed to make sense that night. Showering at work, the climbing gym and his friend’s houses. Spending time climbing in the Utah and Nevada desert and in the high alpine of the Wind River Range and Sawtooth Mountains. Weekend trips to Indian Creek where Mason made a deep connection with so many people. In the winters, skiing around the Wasatch Range before and after work with the occasional trip to the Tetons or the desert to mix it up with some ice climbing and rare desert pow skiing. He always told me about one of his best days ever skiing on desert spines in cold, blower snow. 

I can’t remember the exact time and place Mason and I met but I do remember the first time we went skiing together. Mason, Jimmy and I started up Tanners Gulch from highway 210 aka Little Cottonwood Canyon in the dark around 5:00 AM. We broke trail in deep snow from the highway to the notch beneath Dromedary. The skiing was phenomenal. Perfect snow. In typical Wasatch fashion, another group of skiers followed in our footsteps that morning. They ended up dropping in before us. When Mason, Jimmy and I arrived back at my van there was a six pack sitting underneath the tow hitch left by the party who had followed in our footsteps. In classic Mason style, he cracked a nice 9:00 AM beer. It was perfect, he loved beer. The three of us then went down into the Salt Lake Valley and got breakfast at Roots Cafe. Mason wore his Scarpa ski boots into the restaurant. We laughed and pounded an absurd amount of food and coffee. This was the start of a great friendship that turned into brotherhood. 

Mason’s comedic personality was infectious. Naturally he brought out the goofball in all of us. More than that, he brought out the good-natured free spirit within. Mason cherished living his life with his friends and his girlfriend Stacey. He truly loved bringing people together to have a good time. Living with Mason, he constantly reminded me to take life a little less seriously and enjoy the moment. Each morning I would wake up to the sound of him getting up to go to work at DPS where he manufactured skis with one of our best friends Clay. The ten minutes he was at the house each morning he somehow managed to turn on every light in the house. This would drive me crazy some days. Other days I would hear him close the door and I would run outside in my boxers and our daily banter would begin. I waved and shouted at him while he backed out of our driveway. He would stop, roll the window down and shout back. Probably something along the lines of “Yo! See you later my doig! What up wit dis lunch?” I would laugh at the fact that he just woke up and was already thinking about lunch. The banter would continue throughout the day via videos we would send each other, texting or facetime calling for no real reason whatsoever. By 3-4:00 we would start to chat about climbing in the afternoon or more recently playing pickle ball. It wasn’t the try hard or sporty aspect that he was thinking about, it was simply hanging out and having a good time with his “Core Bros.” 

On Sunday morning, October 10th Mason, Stacey and I were at our house deciding what we would each do with the day. There was fresh snow in the mountains, the sky blue and the air crisp. A beautiful day to be outside. We all wanted to climb. Mason and Stacey decided they would go climb some pitches at one of our favorite cliffs in LCC. I decided to go bouldering with two of our other roommates, Kim and Davan. We all set out in different directions. Before I left the house Mason texted me that the canyon was crowded and asked where we were bouldering. I responded with a photo of my foot in his slipper thinking I was being funny. Then I told him we were headed to the Wasatch Resort to try some boulder problems and that I would call when I was in the canyon. I parked at a friend’s house and texted him my whereabouts. He responded saying he and Stacey were going to The Dihedrals. I jokingly told him to come carry my boulder pad. An hour or so went by and he hadn’t responded or answered my calls. I figured he was simply trying to have some alone time with Stacey. I had heard sirens but didn’t think much of it as the canyon was crowded that day. Growing up in Little Cottonwood you become accustomed to the sound of sirens in the canyon. A brief thought of “what if that is someone I know” crossed my mind but quickly dissipated. After desperately trying to climb this boulder, I somehow topped out. As I stood on top I thought of Mason and how excited I was to tell him I sent some dumb boulder problem. I then saw a missed calls from our best bud Jacob Mader . I called him and he answered frantically telling me to stay on the line. The call dropped. My heart raced. I called him again and he started to tell me what was going on. “Mason is dead man” is what he said to me. We rushed to the Gate as quickly as possible. A rock had come loose and toppled onto Mason as he was traversing from the base of Satan’s Corner to the Dihedrals proper. A rock that I alone have pulled on hundreds of times. A rock that many of you reading this have pulled on. This rock ended my best buddy’s life. More than a best buddy, a brother. 

Now, 10 days after the accident, it all feels like yesterday. I look over at Mason’s room and I know he isn’t in there. I know he isn’t going to come home from work later and ask where we are going climbing this afternoon or if we are playing pickle ball or grilling up steaks with the core bros and heavy chilling. Yet, I keep sending him messages and videos that we laugh about as if he will respond with another video that would have us cackling. Have us creating some other new joke that nobody else will understand. 

Mason loved bringing everyone together to share good times and now that is more apparent than ever. Mason will continue to inspire so many people to be kind and loving to everyone. To treat a 13 year old the same as you would treat a 60 year old. Making sure that we all feel wanted and we all feel as important and as valued as the person sitting next to you. This gift that Mason had will live on through all of his close friends, his family and his love Stacey.

I love you Mason. Rest in peace my brother. I’ll always miss you.

~ Sam Cohen