I can pretty much track my life by which ski jacket I was wearing that season — here’s 47 years of that story.

Made in the Mountains

At age 14 I spent three weeks in Austria at a ski racing camp. I was hooked — not just on the skiing, but on the whole vibe of small Alpine ski towns: the lifts starting up before sunrise, the clatter of boots, the way everything in life suddenly revolved around snow and mountains.

*I took my first ski lesson in the Easter of 1979 at the local artificial slope which I could see from my childhood bedroom window. Racing since age 12 - skiing has always been my life*

Barry Thomson standing at the top of Blackcomb Glacier about to descend *About to drop in to the Blow Hole on Blackcomb Glacier - 2006/07 ski season*

Fast forward a few decades and that same obsession is still going strong here in BC. I’ve been skiing for 47 years now, and I can pretty much track my life by which ski jacket I was wearing that season. That’s why you’ll see a little video on this page of all those jackets over the years — it’s my way of showing this isn’t a new phase; it’s who I’ve been since I was a kid.

Barry Thomson tackling Meribel in the French Alps on his snowboard*I started snowboarding back in ’92. Here I am somewhere in Méribel, France in 2001, during six months in Les Trois Vallées*

 

Back in 2001 I spent a winter in Les Trois Vallées in France and basically never stopped talking about mountain life. I ran an early online blog called raveaboutit.com (before “blog” was even a normal word) and a small clothing brand called Mumble. The idea was simple: I was so passionate about the mountains that I’d rave about them to anyone who would listen — but when I tried to explain it to people who didn’t quite get it, the words never landed and I just ended up mumbling.

Advent Wood Products and my whole Missing In Adventure mindset grew out of that. These days, instead of mumbling, I carve that feeling into wood so you can hang it on the wall and let the sign do the talking.

I’ve always had the desire to make things, and that comes from my dad as much as from the mountains. With a background in engineering and IT, plus a love of woodworking, this business ended up feeling pretty natural. Every sign starts as solid North American timber in my small workshop and ends up as something you can live with for years. The CNC machine helps with precision, but the real work is in the details: choosing the right board, carving depth, finish, and getting your trail name, lake name, family name, or cabin name just right.

I don’t make resort gift-shop copies. I make pieces that actually mean something to you: the run you still talk about, the lake you keep going back to, the cabin that finally feels like “yours,” or the home you built around that view. The sign is personalised for your story, but it hangs in a shared space — the chalet, the cabin, the ski room, the dock — where everyone gathers.

If you’re a bit Missing In Adventure most days, and you still think about that one run or that one summer at the lake, you’re in the right place.

*Mountain Host at Whistler Blackcomb for 5 winters (and village host for 3 summers)*