“…my heart went out to lonely sounds in the misty springtime night of wild sweet America in her powers, the wetness on the wire fence bugled me to belief, I stood on sandpiles with an open soul, I not only accept loss forever, I am made of loss―I am made of Cody, too.”
― Jack Kerouac, Visions of Cody
by Auden Schendler
Adam Palmer is sitting next to you on a chairlift. You are lost in thought. But you feel eyes. You turn, and there’s that smirk, the penetrating stare, waiting for you to respond to the wisecrack that was so dry you already missed it.
“I just can’t stop thinking of his smiling face,” my wife, Ellen, said.
It wasn’t quite a smile, though. It was the sly grin.
Along with two companions, Adam died Feb. 1 in an avalanche near Silverton in Colorado’s San Juan Mountains.
Adam was the Norse God Loki of Eagle County, the Coyote of the climate movement and of our community. He was a trickster, an Odysseus, a delighted warrior, highly dangerous to the status quo, whether that status quo was the serious thread of your conversation or the global order. If he had been born in China or Russia, I can tell you where he would live: in jail. Instead, in America, he was a town councilman, utility board member, a family man and leader on climate solutions for the country.
His chosen work was serious indeed, incredibly discouraging labor because it is so hard, and yet Adam performed it with energy and joy because he saw in it a hopeful future for the world. It wasn’t his community Adam cared about so much as everyone.
He achieved what the physician and anti-poverty activist Paul Farmer described as an almost unmanageable task, which was the ability to love a stranger’s child as your own. To love your community as your family.
Yes, he struggled and succeeded mightily for his wife, Kalie, and his daughters, Montana and Savannah, but he did it just as much for you. His friend Jason Blevins summed up the Palmer worldview: “He would haul a cabinet-style speaker down to the surf wave in Eagle he fought so hard to build … blasting his punk tunes, he would set up lights on towers and we would surf all night long, drinking beer and shredding … (well, he was shredding … most everyone else, except for the pre-teens and Adam, were crashing.)”
For such a jokester and a funny guy, Adam was insistently mission-driven.
“The two most important days in your life,” he quoted from Mark Twain, “are the day you are born, and the day you find out why.” But you’d be forgiven if you weren’t quite sure which was Adam’s why: the mission, or the joke. Making them almost equal was the core of his resilience and his empathy. Tacked onto an email on the social cost of carbon and clean energy percentages, he’d add a picture of himself in a new ‘Energy Smart’ trucker hat, or his “badass Freddy Mercury” moustache he was admiring while poring over some code document.
A memory I recalled to him often was not a happy one, but because of that it defined who he was. He is sitting with his head bent in his hands, in despair over a plate of huevos, 15 or so years ago at Breakfast in America in El Jebel with Randy Udall and me. He had just been disqualified from running for the board of our utility, Holy Cross Energy, because his petition signatures had been invalidated. It was a nadir for us: It felt like we would never win this fight, would never turn the ship of this coal-based utility, would never make progress on climate change and clean energy. Randy and I were there to give him succor and counsel. Over a decade later, Adam had become an essential element in what led to Holy Cross’s complete transformation and commitment to 100% renewables.
But it’s hard for me to know if I was his mentor or he was mine. I never knew someone to so persistently care about the success of others, to so joyously celebrate and foster their progress, even as he himself excelled.
When I wrote a book, my Eagle County party was at his house, he insisted. When I had a new idea, he brought me over to speak. And then in-between it was Adam who kept our friendship going: “Amigo, (this was how all his emails began) we had an email thread going around soil carbon sequestration and they were suggesting a Zoom meeting which I said blows and meetings on the slope are much more productive. It looks like Friday, Feb. 26th works for us, can you join us hiking the bowl?”
This active connection is why so many of you loved him so much, but it is also the rare trait of a good and great friend: he’d as much as say, as Paul Verlaine wrote to poet Rimbaud: “Come, dear, great soul. We await you. We desire you.”
Adam was massively talented, but his talent was beyond himself, a talent for the world. He was a music prodigy (I think he actually was a prodigy as a kid.) Our friend John Gitchell first learned about his skills when Adam played keyboard at John’s grandmother’s nursing home some 25 years ago. He biked across America, but spent summer weekends building single-track in his neighborhood. He was known as a dreamer and a doer, as one fan wrote to the newspaper.
He was a physical animal, but unlike some of the vapid people we know in the Colorado backcountry, who are just out for the stoke, Adam’s badassery was laced with a potent drug: kindness and an outward focus.
Jason Blevins again: “he would always break trail when skinning … he was oblivious to gear … wore his bike helmet skiing, a jacket from the 90s. He was indefatigable … literally could not be worn down …. he fought hard for his community… every time you saw him you were stoked … Every. Time.”
His talents were also imbued with humility and self-awareness: “We just got the baby bike trailer thingy hooked up and took Montana out for a ride. It was awesome until I rode by a big store window and saw our reflection. I suddenly realized I had become the dad-with-the-munchkin-in-the-trailer-with-reflectors-who-cruises-on-the-bikepath guy.”
Adam liked to quote his dad. “As my dad, who spent some quality time on the front of a Patrol Boat in the Mekong Delta says, always be ready for an ambush.”
We got ambushed by Adam’s death. As we age, especially if we are involved in a difficult, maybe impossible battle greater than ourselves—which, well, we all are—it is hard to escape the creeping and desolate feeling that the world takes the best, and leaves the rest of us to muddle along, lonelier, slightly crippled. I have to remember Adam’s relentless faith in us, his urging and encouragement and certainty in our eventual success.
Some years ago, Adam was playing with his band at Bonfire Brewing, wearing a big floppy Mad Hatter top hat, singing and moving from keyboard to guitar, five o’clock stubble glistening with sweat, accepting beers and joyously reveling for hours and hours, the king of the room, Robin Hood of his merry band, the groom at the wedding, the center of the world.
And yet, if you looked his way, he’d grin and wink.
Maybe I will leave him there.
Auden Schendler, of Basalt, is the senior vice president of sustainability at the Aspen Skiing Co. and author of “Getting Green Done: Hard Truths from the Front Lines of the Sustainability Revolution.”
Why support Big Pivots?
You need and value solid climate change reporting, and also the energy & water transitions in Colorado. Because you know that strong research underlies solid journalism, and research times take.
Plus, you want to help small media, and Big Pivots is a 501(c)3 non-profit.
Big grants would be great, but they’re rare for small media. To survive, Big Pivots needs your support. Think about how big pivots occur. They start at the grassroots. That’s why you should support Big Pivots. Because Big Pivots has influence in Colorado, and Colorado matters in the national conversation.
- Why net-zero has become pointless - August 26, 2024
- With a grin and a wink, Adam Palmer had missions in life far beyond himself - February 4, 2021
- Why we need beneficial electrification - January 28, 2021
Thank you for letting me know who Adam is!
Thank you for that memory piece on Adam. He was a great person. You are right we will totally miss all his energy and spirit for the work. He also shared with us his great stories with his girls and musical magic -surprises! There is a void. Joani
Super sad story of whom sounds to be an amazing human with tons of care toward others while also living the moment large as often and regularly as possible. RIP a good dude!
You captured Adam’s spirit beautifully Auden. I used to love toeing the start line of bike races with him. He always had a wise crack before the gun went off. His passing is a huge loss to our community.
Thank you Auden for this wonderful piece on Adam! I have known Adam for over 30 years and we have been on many adventures together, both planned and unplanned. You so eloquently capture what all of us remember of him but are struggling to articulate right now. But that grin will forever be central to our memory of him.
I did not know Adam – but I do now. Beautifully written. Thank you for introducing me to him.
Such a great tribute. I went to college with Adam. Everyone loved him. We’re all better for knowing him.
You have wonderfully captured the Adam I knew, and as a friend living far away from Eagle County, aspects of his life I suspected but (due to his humility) never heard about when we were together. Thank you for the thought and empathy you put into this piece. It’s a comfort to hear such an eloquent description of some of what made Adam special – the shockwaves of his loss are reverberating far past Eagle County.
Lovely tribute, Auden.
You frickin nailed it. That is AP. As his brother in law, I knew he was an amazing person but I didn’t fully realize the extent of his influence and relationships. Thanks for this note.
WOW! You really help shine the light on wonderful of a person Adam was. Thank you for sharing your friendship with us. RIP Adam.
What an inspiring person.
Such a beautiful essay.
Remember, death takes a life, it doesn’t take a relationship.
Thank you, Auden, for this lovely article on my nephew, Adam.
Thank you Auden for sharing his life and spirit. Adam’s life, recounted here for a short span of time, makes one want to be a better person. That is a gift you both share. My condolences to his family and this community for the immeasurable loss.
Such a beautiful tribute to one lost much too soon. Thank you for sharing.
Wow! What an incredible article! I wish I could have had the privilege to meet Adam!
Love this! Thank you!
What a beautiful and eloquent tribute to our friend. We are all better people for having known him. Now, it’s true, we will muddle along but hopefully keeping his dreams for our community, and world, alive.
Thank you for this wonderful tribute to Adam. I am a distant ( shirttail) relative, a small part of the O’Malley clan in
Oregon we both married into. I had rare contact with Adam at family reunions. Now I realize what an opportunity I missed by not taking the time to know him more completely. Obviously an incredible person with great depth. I grieve for his wonderful family.
Thank you, Auden. A beautiful tribute. 😔
I’m so sorry I never knew this wonderful, thought-full and interesting man. What a tragic loss for his family and the community. So sad. Thank you for writing this beautiful narrative… again, I say, I am sorry I lost out.
What a truly great piece you wrote, Auden. I feel your pain and I feel the loss of this remarkable character. We’ll never know all that was lost…so many future impacts are obvious from your excellent piece. It makes me very sad and very appreciative that you brought me to this feeling and understanding. Death is so final and yet, of course, spirit and past impact live on. Thank you
Thank you. A beauty of a tribute.
Thank you for such amazing tribute for a very special friend. I have known Adam for 30 years and had the opportunity to catch a glimpse of his life in Eagle County on a visit a few years ago. Your words helped fill in the complete story about his selfless contributions and leadership for the community he loved. He will be missed by all.
I am his Adam’s wife’s cousin. Sadly I never met Adam, however through your article I feel as though I know him, and I wish I did. Thank you.
Auden, thank you. I have read this many times, as it makes me feel closer to him in a way. Like many people, I am inspired by Adam’s kind and huge heart. And for someone who was such a leader, he sparked a lot of fun, silliness and joy along the way. We did many ‘ski meetings’ and I was so looking forward to Feb 26 ski date with you all. You captured Adam so beautifully – thank you.
The passing of truly good human beings often goes unnoticed. Thank you, Auden, for this.
Thank you for putting life to words. Adam was amazing and I feel like the world is less without it in him. It’s left me thinking how can I help be more and do more. How can I be that spark that makes other lives better.
Your writing is deeply touching, clever, humorous, full of images, emotions and tributes. No wonder you were friends.
Thank you for penning such a wonderful tribute to my friend. I imagine that many tears were shed writing it. Adam and I were part of a close-knit group of guys who first stepped on the UW campus in Seattle over 30 years ago. We are crushed by his death. He was extraordinary in so many ways. He was also overly humble. I am awed, but not surprised, to learn more about Adam’s many contributions to his community. My deepest condolences to you and Adam’s friends and colleagues in Eagle.
I was praying that all would be found safe when I heard about the avalanche. God bless him, his family and friends
Adam was an amazing person. I’m so glad glad you shared this wonderful story so others could see too. Thank you for such a wonderful tribute.
Thanks, Auden, for this nice tribute – very well written. Adam sounds like the kind of guy I always wished I could have been. Big loss for Eagle, big loss for all of us.
Beautifully written tribute to a beautiful soul. Thoughts and peace to his wife Kailie, and equally talented girls; Montana and Savannah. Your dad will always shine within you. He, most likely, gave your the strength you will need to navigate this most treacherous time.
I didn’t know Adam.
Now I do.
I saw the tributes and the accolades but not until now did I get a taste of what Colorado and the planet lost.
That paragraph that begins with the “Norse God Loki of Eagle County” is one of the best I’ve ever seen on my screen. The rest of the piece backs it up with humor, wisdom and love.
Dad in the Mekong. Montana in the bike trailer. Bike helmet on the ski slope and a jacket from the 90s.
Pour one out with a grin and a wink, knowing there but for the grace of the trickster gods go you and I, that life is precious and short and its over if you blink.
Thanks for the heartfelt tribute Auden and Allen for posting it on Mountain Town News. Here’s to lives well lived in lands that let us to the fullest, live. Here’s to those who give.
To Adam Palmer, the San Juan Seven, the San Juans and the Circle of Life. Adam, give Randy our best and let him know we’re still plugging away, searching about for those mythical golden trout.
Beautiful tribute to a wonderful person. You captured Adam as I remember.
Auden, What a beautiful tribute to Adam Palmer, the beautiful friend, and colleague we all lost this past week. He was “the glue” for so many folks in so many circles–I knew him best these past 20 years in the Eagle County family, as a relentless County advocate for eco-build and sustainability, and also as a community member who, like water, found any route possible to serve the people of his neighborhood. Dude had a very large neighborhood. His wife Kalie, also is a servant leader for us through her work at Habitat and raising those two lovely girls of theirs. Thank you, Auden!
Thank you so much for this article. I’m Adam’s cousin, through Kalie. Adam and I did not get a ton of time together but everything about what you wrote is what I know about him. Just an incredible guy that will be missed by so so many.
Thanks again
Beautiful article. Adam was the founder of the Hardscrabble Trails Coalition where we all ride our mountain bike and hike. Whe the trails open up in Spring we should remember Adam’s significant efforts and pay tribute.
A special magic passed through your fingers to give the world these words, Auden. The bottomless affection for a friend and awe in his special being. The sweet humility and the powerful potential of this precious man. We mourn the ones we knew and loved, and those we didn’t know well or long enough. Your words together are like the grand finale in a fireworks display – colorful, captivating, splendid and dazzling. They ensure that we know what we had and what we’ve lost.
Sandi and I send our condolences.