For over ten years, I managed an outdoor store in Zermatt, Switzerland. It was a good job, and it offered some much appreciated stability. But with time, I found myself unable to see the next step in my own development. The town itself offers limited paths: mostly tourism-related roles in services, hospitality, or construction. None of them—in their “ordinary” form—sparked excitement in me.

I was still teaching snowboarding on my time off, and around the same time I started feeling unmotivated at the store, I began to notice a pattern during the lessons: my energy was significantly higher after a day on the mountain with students; I came home with genuine enthusiasm. Even so, I remained stuck in a limbo for another three years—knowing I needed a new challenge but not daring to step into the unknown.

Then, as is often the case when we don’t make a decision, the decision was made for me: the company terminated my contract. In that moment, instead of fear or anxiety, I felt a sense of relief. The safety net was gone—now I had to make a move and find something new.

I had been teaching snowboarding since 2001, and besides the store, I also managed a snowpark for some years. While those activities did give me a lot, I felt like I wanted to do something more—something different. It took a few months of introspection to arrive at a simple realization: it was time to reconnect with my passions and the specific joy I found in sharing them.

Since my first trip to Northeast Brazil, I had fallen in love with the coast, the people, and the climate. It felt like home in a way I couldn't explain, and that feeling never left me. After a five-year break (due to the pandemic and the birth of my son), I finally went back there. Once my feet touched the sand again, those memories and feelings didn't just return—they grew stronger.

The path became clear during a downwind kite trip with friends. The guide we had hired was, to put it mildly, disengaged. He wasn't taking initiative, and he didn't seem to know the routes—we were often left drifting. So I decided to step in. After a few days leading the group down the coast, managing the logistics, and ensuring everyone was safe and having fun, I began to feel like this was something I would love to do.

Later in that trip, we met an amazing local driver and other seasoned kitesurfing guides. Hearing them share their experiences and visualizing myself in the role, I could sense some loose pieces in my mind coming together. As I digested these newfound impressions and ideas, it dawned on me that I needed to start somewhere. Even if I wasn't sure of the outcome, something told me that this—organizing, guiding, riding—was the path to follow.

My goal was to put all my skills and passions into one place: the knowledge acquired over 25 years of teaching, managing, and exploring the mountains and seas, now placed at the service of others. But I wanted to do it with a personal touch—emphasizing the connection with nature and the importance of slowing down, of disconnecting a bit from the rush and sitting in the present moment.

After sketching some ideas, the first step was redesigning the website I had created in 2010 for my photography and snowboard lessons. But now, crucially, I also wanted to focus on resort guiding, splitboard tours, and freeride sessions (where I could share the knowledge acquired over two decades exploring Zermatt & Cervinia), as well as providing mountain concierge services, where I could leverage my extensive local network and the management skills I had learned over the years.

I also knew I couldn't and didn’t want to do things alone. First, because I love collaboration, but also, because I didn’t have the necessary web design know-how to develop my vision. Another key reason was that I didn’t want to sacrifice the limited free time I had with my son before he would start going to school. Partnering with high-skilled, like-minded professionals was also the ideal way to broaden Latitude 46’s range of services and build a dedicated team for organizing the downwind expeditions. Realizing all this was a huge relief.

Things started to flow; the more ideas I wrote down, the more opportunities seemed to appear. Even if things moved slower than I sometimes expected, and the summit was still far, I began to feel more and more that I was on the right path, and the next steps became increasingly clear. More than ever, I could see that I needed to trust the process without rushing. As the mountains have taught me, rushing is usually counter-productive—progression requires patience.

Currently, my days are dotted with various tasks—from writing all sorts of content to editing photos and videos, sorting out old folders in dusty hard drives, conducting market research and crunching numbers, brainstorming ideas, or sometimes simply reflecting on how I would like this project to evolve. I’ve also spent quite some time trying to streamline processes and workflows—without getting lost in multi- and micro-tasks. Some days, I feel motivated and can see ideas materializing. Others, I have to remind myself that spending so much time in front of a screen is the price I’m paying now for the freedom I’ll have in the near future, when tours, trips, and lessons start filling my calendar.

Since taking on this new challenge, I’ve also spent a lot of time reflecting on life and looking within, trying to connect with my purpose. And the more I did that, the more the certainty that I’m heading in the right direction solidified. All these ideas and inspiration reinforced what I had felt some years ago, sitting behind the store counter: I craved creativity, collaboration, and the freedom to shape and share what I believe in.

My first passions were movement and nature—found in snowboarding—and creativity—found in photography. Returning to them after spending 15 years in rigid structures and closed environments felt light and liberating. Things are moving forward now, and there is an organic enthusiasm for life that was missing in those last years of store work. This is not just a business; it’s a way to connect to nature, challenge ourselves, feed our enthusiasm, learn new things and see new places and, with luck, find our rhythm and direction—all while striving to live in the now.


Welcome to Latitude 46.