Caio Poletti Romano

I met Dylan back in 2018, in Baja. He was the boat manager… even though he didn’t really know boats yet. That was him, he would step into things fully, learn fast, and somehow make it all work. I remember meeting him and there was no question,we were going to be friends.

That season turned into surf trips, beach soccer, tacos, Pacificos… simple, good moments that somehow felt big. When Morgan and I moved to Alaska, our friendship only grew. He showed me bike trails, Hatcher Pass, the places that made this place feel like home. We became roommates, teammates, and shared a lot of life together.

Dylan had this rare way of being present. He listened deeply, without judgment. You could tell him anything and get honesty, calm, and perspective back. He pushed me, not in loud ways, but in the way he lived. To not take work too seriously. To go outside. To remember that life is bigger than whatever stress is in front of you. To focus on what actually makes you feel alive.

Over the past few years, it was incredible to watch him grow. The adventurous, driven friend became an educator, a partner, a thoughtful and mature outdoorsman. The care he had, for people, for his partner, for the mountains, for life, was real. He seemed to be in his prime, and I was excited to see where that path would take him and how many more people he would inspire.

Dylan lived 32 intense and beautiful years. Years full of friendships, and a deep love for being out there, really living.

Yesterday, I had to say goodbye to my dear friend after an avalanche.

People say “he died doing what he loved.” I don’t fully believe in that sentence. He loved so much more. He loved being alive, being with people, laughing, exploring, growing.

Risk is part of that world. Even when you do everything right, the mountains sometimes have different plans.

I hope his last day was a beautiful one. I can picture the size of his smile out there.

Goodbye, meu amigo. Until we meet again.