Telluride's Flying Epoxy Sisters in the 1970's, Geoffrey Chapman, Robert Funkhouser, Eric Liekefet, Peter Chapman, Jim Hulett, Peter Langstaff and Clark. Ski bumming in Telluride in the 70's. Members of the Church of the Flying Epoxies now number in the millions worldwide and growing.
An early photo of the Flying Epoxy Sisters at their first outing in Telluride

With a Demi Moore-like, baritone voice and long, luscious black hair that offsets her baby-blues, Lee Zeller feels like she's lived here a gazillion years. Just after she and husband, Dennis, married in Ashland, Oregon, 27 years ago, they moved to Telluride. “We beat the Epoxy Sisters in renting one of the houses near the Pandora mines from George Cappis. They were a group of guys from Vermont who skied three-on-a-ski naked and wore skirts in the bar,” recalls Lee, “Telluride’s housing was tight back then. We lived in Pandora for 11 years. It was magic. We’d have gin and tonic parties, while watching the avalanches at the end of the valley.”

This was an Anonymous post on the internet

The point of that story is that there are well-known skiers like Glenn Plake that had amazing natural gifts for the sport, but in this little town of Telluride there was a higher level of skier. There were the Epoxy Sisters, a group of guys who lived to ski, and their natural skills went far beyond the abilities of any competition skier I knew. These guys would ski out of bounds; the chutes, the cliffs, and the trees, anywhere they could find virgin snow. You may see them on an early chairlift, and then they would disappear as they hiked into the backcountry in search of fresh snow, and maybe you would see them at twilight heading home. These guys didn’t have the newest high-tech equipment, but they took great care of their skis. Their clothes were torn from the trees and rocks and patched with various bright ideas. They devised new ways to solve problems such as using snorkels for skiing the fluffy, dry, powder snow so the ice crystals wouldn’t fill their lungs and burn. They didn’t ski for ribbons and medals; they didn’t ski for Warren Miller. They skied for the simple glory of the moment, that clear consciousness of doing what they loved to do .I remember sitting on the ski bus across from a guy – old ski suit, duct tape here, duct tape there, snot and icicles frozen to his beard, a snorkel dangling from his head – and I knew I was in the presence of greatness. The Epoxy Sisters

Saying goodbye to my dear friend Robert Funkhouser