To Those Who Came Back Different

To Our LHO Community,

I was editing a photo for an article the other day. Just an ordinary moment in the workflow. But as I zoomed in and looked a little closer, the hairs on my arm stood up. Every single person in that picture… they weren’t first timers. They were returners. One of them? On their seventh adventure with us.

And it hit me.

We’ve been so focused on the road ahead, on the next trail, the next summit, the next soul to reach, that we never really stopped to look back. To take stock of just how far we’ve come. Not as a company, but as a community. As a family.

These trails we’ve walked… they’ve not only shaped landscapes beneath our feet. They’ve carved out entire transformations in the people who walked them. Vulnerable moments, impossible choices, frozen summit nights. Times when all someone could do was trust us to get them through. And somehow, years later, here we are. Together still. Transformed not once, not twice, but a hundred times over.

What we’ve built is rare. We’ve made adventure accessible in ways that defy expectations. We stripped it down to its essence, not the gear or the grit, but the raw human emotion. The leap of faith. The trembling voice that says “yes” when everything inside is screaming “no.”

We believed in the human spirit. In your spirit.

Tell me the world is too dark, and I’ll show you Hari Budha Magar, who stood on top of Aconcagua with no legs and a heart stronger than any storm. Supported by Gustavo Caselli , whose ancestors fought against Hari’s in the Las Malvinas (the Falklands) just one generation ago. Now they climb side by side.

Tell me there’s no hope, and I’ll show you Frederic Sfeir , who has no sight but stood on the roof of Africa and imagined the view.

Tell me it’s impossible, and I’ll introduce you to Raneem Al Faraidy , who lives with cerebral palsy and still found her way to that same mountain.

To Romy Habre , who battles bipolar disorder but keeps showing up ever stronger with each passing experience. To the Palestinian nurse who lost both legs just a month ago and wrote to us saying, “I want to climb Kilimanjaro in three years. You gave me new purpose.”

Yes, there is darkness. But it only takes one candle to light up the whole room.

You, our Life Happens Outdoors community, you are those candles. You are the reason we do this. You are the fire behind every frozen summit night. The soul in every step. The light that keeps us going.

Thank you. For trusting us. For trusting yourselves. For taking the chance. And for coming back different.

It’s all for you. It’s all because of you. It’s all inspired by you.

With deep gratitude,

Rami Rasamny Founder, Life Happens Outdoors