BIG WILLI STYLE

Published in the May 23, 2026 issue.

He’s been told he’s got “the strongest sticker game in the Eastern Sierra.”

That’s because when you step into his yellow-walled Lone Pine store, you’re met with a glass case full of crass, tongue-in-cheek, or otherwise unsavory stickers for your bumper or Nalgene.

To name a few: “Talk to your doctor to see if getting off your ass is right for you,” “honk if youre horny… for mountains,” “leave no turn unstoned,” and, his best-seller, a bare-assed yeti with a saying too off-color for even this newspaper.

Look up from the glass case and you’ll see him. His name is Blair Nicodemus, and he’s the sole proprietor of Big Willie’s Mountaineering Company (named after Mount Williamson. Get your head out of the gutter.)

“The store’s a little different, a little rough around the edges,” he said. “I read the room, obviously – I’m not dropping F-bombs on someone’s grandma – but for the most part, people appreciate that it’s real.”

He celebrated his ninth anniversary in the shop in March, and marked the first day of his “busy season” May 1, serving the more serious mountaineers, or, as he calls them, “repeat offenders.”

The store, aside from being stacked wall-to-wall with various knick knacks and skiing artifacts, is also home to niche mountaineering gear you won’t find elsewhere.

“It started out with a lot of Mount Whitney hikers and PCT folks, and I still get those. But over time, I’ve built more of a niche with mountaineers.”

Whitney hikers, he said, tend to be one-and-done. “Maybe you see them twice in ten years.” The repeat offenders are different. “I see them all the time.”

Nicodemus is usually out there with them. In the off-season, the winter, he said he’s in the mountains four days a week. Once things pick up, that drops off, but not by much. The shop more or less runs around whatever time he’s not outside.

He has a 32 cm rule, meaning that if the mountain gets more than 32 cm of snow, he’s not opening the store.

That carries over into what he sells. A lot of it is lightweight mountaineering gear, small-brand stuff, things he’s either used or paid attention to. Not everything sticks. Some of it just sits.

“I just bring in what I think is useful out here,” he said. “Some of it works, some of it doesn’t.”

He’s also, by his own admission, a gear nerd.

“I read a ton of reviews. I watch YouTube, I’m always looking at what people are doing,” he said. “So when people come in, I just kind of regurgitate all that, plus what I’ve actually used out here.”

In the same vein, he writes a daily weather report, putting his personal swing on it. Just like the rest of his store, “it’s not a plain, vanilla weather report.”

“I’m always looking at the weather anyway,” he said. “It affects everything we do out here.”

Before coming to the Eastern Sierra, Nicodemus lived in Big Bear, which he described as “latitudally challenged.” Just too far south.

The first time he came to the Eastern Sierra, he fell in love with it. He’d always wanted to own a business and had worked in retail since he was 16, so he said “f*ck it,” moved to the Tuttle Creek Campground and took out a loan.

That loan was sizable enough to keep him at that campground for three years.

“I couldn’t afford rent, but I could afford $300 a year, which was how much the long-term visitor program was back then.”

His first year, he was waiting for a commercial space to open up. He had no income and all of his inventory in storage, so he was essentially “hemmorrhaging money” trying to get started.

When the 185 square foot space setback from Main Street that would later become his store opened up, he knew he was going to take it before he even toured.

“I didn’t want to seem too desperate,” he said. “I kind of kicked the tires, so to speak.”

He spent two months building it out with his friend Myles Mosher, and ultimately opened it in 2017.

It had about a third of the inventory he has now.

“Just you and a rope, huh?” I asked.

“Just about,” he replied.

In a lot of ways, it’s still just Nicodemus and the merchandise he sells. He can’t afford to hire help, so when you go in the store, you’re guaranteed to see him.

For the most part, it’s a benefit.

“That’s just the Big Willi experience,” he said. “You come in, you get a cup of coffee, you talk about the mountains.”