Last Chair

(Written by Sam Cox - February 17, 2026)

An iPhone photo essay of sorts:

(Written by Sam Cox - March 29, 2025)

Austria was the centerpiece of my wanderings this season. The rest of the winter was a little hectic, somewhat eclectic, but overall an absolute pleasure.

Even snuck in a couple sunsets on the beach.

The FIS World Cup Finals were held in Sun Valley at the end of March. It was a dream come true to watch all the athletes practice their craft in person. The real privilege was having the opportunity to see Mikaela Shiffrin take home win number 101 in style.

If you've made it this far - 40 seconds of good times:

(Written by Sam Cox - March 3, 2025)

The conditions have not lined up for a "winter to remember" in Europe this season. However, my short trip was an experience that I'll never forget. Here is a quasi-annual iPhone photo essay of my meanderings through Tirol:

(Written by Sam Cox - February 23, 2024)

Like many, I've logged some miles in the Arlberg and Tirol over the years, but only dabbled into the expanses of Austria beyond their confines. February was a prime opportunity for two dudes well into their 40's, armed with a rental car and older generation iPhone's to venture further east and have a look around. The essence of the region is easier to sum up in photos, rather than words. Cheers.

Completely unrelated - winter 2024 in Montana has been a roller coaster of emotions. But, there have been some brief windows of superb meadow skipping:

(Written by The Crew - January 22, 2024)

Our good friend Quinn Wolferman is an X Games gold medalist, Armada athlete and Montana native. His recent solo film project, Shadows Fade dropped today.

(Written by The Crew - December 19, 2023)

Junkshow Media House is back with their 11th season. The first installment of the year features Josh Daiek and Stan Rey, crushing the Tahoe backyard during the depths of a storm. Enjoy.

In the spirit of keeping shit simple, we batched the episodes into one post - Episode 2, Ring The Bell is full of spines, lines and some fucking good times.

(Written by Junkshow Media House - April 24, 2023)

Being timely is more or less our middle name. Fuck it, digging out from a massive winter put us a little behind the curve, just where we like to be. 

Three episodes comprise Season 10. Enjoy.

(Written by Sam Cox - March 20, 2023)

Today is officially the first day of spring and I already miss winter. Snow has become a rare commodity in the valley, but is still holding strong in the high country. Here is a glimpse into a few moments this year, when the days were shorter and temps colder.

Thanks to everyone along the way for the turns, breaking trail and occasional pre-dawn departure. 

Do you like hippy pow and burning hot laps on the skin track? Damn right you do. You can thank me later for the musical selection:

(Written by Michael Bird Shaffer - October 16, 2022)

It’s been a blink of the eye and one special trip. I’m honored and deeply grateful to share this bird documentary with all of you, my friends. 

Thanks to black crows skis, my family and our mountain community.  Time and again, you’ve lifted me up with love, shred and acceptance. And, a special kaw out to my guy, Camille Jaccoux Cam, you remember back in 2003, when you said we were gonnna make something?  Guess what?  I believed you! 

P.S. we couldn’t have done this without the amazing creative and patient work from the man who edited this piece - Julien Bevillard  Please enjoy the jOURney.  fullwingspan 

(Written by Sam Cox - February 22, 2022)

It had been a while since I left the country with a pair of skis. Nervous anticipation, last minute packing. Obsessing over weather forecasts, snow reports and avalanche conditions. 

Once en route, a couple hours of transit and a libation deep, everything settled into place. I had embarked on a ritualistic journey as old as the idea of sliding down a mountain - the ski trip. 

Central Austria is a gem. From the family atmosphere at Kühtai to the shiny infrastructure of St. Anton. The Olympic history of Axamer Lizum and the audacity of constructing a ski area at the head of the Kaunertal Valley. 

Stability was fickle. The off-piste had to be approached with respect. Alternating storm cycles and sunny days were the norm. Quality turns were plentiful. 

I could spend all winter skiing in the Alps, but the realities of finances and obligations at home eventually set in. That’s alright, I’m content being even a temporal guest from time to time. 

Perhaps it’s the scarcity of the visits that make these experiences so special. Until we meet again old friend, thanks for everything.  

  If you’ve made it this far - completely unrelated, 45 seconds of pow session on the neighborhood skin track this winter:

(Written by Junkshow Media House - April 10, 2021)

We wanted to get an article together back in the fall, but sled maintenance, skiing pow and drinking beer with our friends got in the way. Here is a retrospective look at last season’s series of episodes:

S8E1: Quaranteam 

With plans to sneak across the Canadian border, COVID-19 hit. We headed home and quaranteamed up.

S8E2: An American Tale

Willfully establishing residence in a snowmobile trailer during the winter is no small feat - hours of meticulous preparation only go so far to overcome the hurdles of frigid temperatures, wet gear and cramped quarters. The trade off, is total immersion into a lifestyle where simplicity and freedom reign supreme. Select your zone, park the rig, allow everything else to dissolve into background noise - let skiing and the experience become the focal point. This concept became our reality, enjoy.

S8E3: Light to the Dark

A 10 inch predicted storm became 20 inches and then it morphed into over 50 inches. Eventually it was too deep to ski, too deep to sled. Daylight turned to darkness, the rhythmic hum of the t-bar echoed in the distance - we'd found what we came for.

We spent this winter exploring - poking and prodding around nooks and crannies, sleeping in parking lots and getting acquainted with sunrise on the skyline. See you in the fall.

(Written by Sam Cox - March 25, 2021)

It was a year of unknowns and new experiences. Nobody has a playbook for skiing during a pandemic. A couple of winters ago I moved, I still live in the mountains but no longer in a ski town. During a normal season, this means I spend some time on the road. I feel at home in a state of transit - finding solidarity with a meandering ribbon of pavement as it stretches ever onward, away from darkness and toward light, possibilities and hopefully powder.  

However, this winter, my scope of reality was trained predominantly on the immediate local area. Borders remained closed, the snowpack was sketchy as fuck and it didn’t seem worth investing the time or energy to spread my wings and encounter the same setup elsewhere. 

The reservation system at Bridger Bowl is dysfunctional at best, it’s a constant source of frustration. Sadly, it’s the least of Bozeman’s concerns. It’s difficult to watch something you love being destroyed. Admittedly, I’m angry, conflicted and confused because Bridger has been such a significant component of my life for almost 40 years. Everything is perspective, but to me, the community I grew up in is unrecognizable and broken. To a Covid refugee from New England, an adult onset skier with a Sprinter van from the Midwest or someone from the Bay Area with unlimited disposable income/time, it looks like Utopia. The soul is being priced right out of the ski area and city. Soon, the only thing left will be trust funders and tech geeks, languishing as terminal intermediates despite having brand new everything. They’re hell bent on gentrification and single origin, shade grown, organic beef burgers at the ski area cafeteria. Fuck it, the joke is actually on them - Bridger struggles to get 250″ of snow on a massive winter these days, frequently less than 200″ falls during operating. Did I forget to mention the lift lines? People move to Bozeman in droves, all from a “hot tip” in Outside Magazine. It’s unsustainable growth by any metric. I’ll take solace that I was fortunate enough to start skiing there in the 1980′s, long before the masses heard a whispered “Montana” drifting seductively on the wind. Then again, it could always be worse. There are thousands people who suffer from such an acute case of Stockholm Syndrome that they scramble over each other to purchase a season pass at Montana Snowbowl.   

I don’t have the answers to the problems plaguing Bridger Bowl. All you can do is adapt, make the best of it and move on from from situations that bring you down. I’m an old dude with a broken back. I spend a lot of time solo, wandering around the woods getting weird and attempting to ski as much pow as possible. Meadow skipping, skin track sessions, sled laps or riding the lifts. Anytime I can indulge in these activities with friends, I’ll call it a victory.

A couple highlights from the winter of Covid - right turns, left turns and a quick season recap:

(Written by Sam Cox - December 28, 2020)

Growing up in Montana, my winter free time was consumed by skiing. Big Sky was the destination when I was barely old enough to walk. Eventually we made the move to Bozeman and Bridger Bowl became my second home. During the early years, my family made the trek to a handful of Warren Miller movies when they were on tour in the fall and Snow Country was the magazine subscription that landed on the coffee table. I was vaguely aware of Jackson Hole, Snowbird and Squaw Valley and my father would occasionally regale me with tales of skiing (read Après) in Germany when he was in the Army. At some level, I already understood that there was something special about Bridger, but realistically, my sphere of outside influence was quite small. Christmas of 1989 turned my entire world upside down. My aunt and uncle are longtime Salt Lake City residents and Brighton skiers. Typically they would send a package each year with the customary cookies, toffee and a card. However, this year they sent two VHS tapes and a magazine - Ski Time, Blizzard of Aahhh’s and a copy of Powder. Things would never be the same for me. Scot Schmidt became my hero, Greg Stump was taking skiing into uncharted territory and above it all, Powder created an eloquent voice for our sport and was the fabric that held things together. Even at my young age, everything that I’d intuitively sensed before was distilled into a potent desire to devote myself to the simple pursuit of being a skier.

Johan Jonsson, Engelberg, Switzerland - Photo: Mattias Fredriksson/POWDER

Powder was founded in Sun Valley by the Moe brothers in 1972 as an annual portfolio of The Other Ski Experience. After several years of running the magazine, Jake and David Moe sold Powder to the owner of Surfer Magazine. A repurposed aircraft hangar in San Juan Capistrano became the new home of skiing’s most prestigious publication. Over time, there was an ebb and flow to the size of staff and cast of characters, each person leaving their unique mark. For decades Powder weathered corporate acquisitions, office relocations and the constant metamorphosis of the ski industry - never losing its voice, Powder remained the benchmark. It was a source of creativity, inspiration and a defacto annal of history. For many it was also a shining beacon, a glimpse into a world filled with deep turns and iconic destinations - even if this world could only be inhabited inside the constructs of your imagination.

My story and the impact Powder had on the direction I would take is hardly unique. The magazine left an indelible impression on countless skiers. When the news broke this fall that operations were being suspended indefinitely, a heartbroken community took to social media to pay homage to the magazine and how it changed their lives and in some cases, careers. This is my version of a tribute and it’s definitely not perfect. In order to gain some perspective, I reached out to former staff members - a collective I admire and respect. It’s an attempt to articulate the essence of Powder, capture its influence on the skiing landscape and give credit to the people who made it come to life. 

Bernie Rosow, Mammoth Mountain, CA - Photo: Christian Pondella/POWDER

HANS LUDWIG - The Jaded Local

“Skiing has always been really tribal and one of the last vestiges of having an oral history. Powder was a unique concept, because they weren’t really concerned with the family market. They were just concerned about being really into skiing. Growing up in Colorado and skiing moguls, my coaches Robert and Roger were featured in the early Greg Stump films. Being in their orbit, I knew a little bit about skiing culture and what was going on out there, but didn’t have the whole picture. The Stump films resonated with me, but Ski/Skiing Magazines didn’t really do it for me. Powder was the door that opened things culturally, it was the only entry point before Blizzard of Aahhh’s.”

“Something that nobody gives Powder credit for, is sponsoring the Greg Stump, TGR and MSP movies and giving them full support right from their inception. It legitimized those companies and helped them become one of the catalysts for change and evolution in skiing. Ultimately this change would have happened, but at a much slower pace without the support of Powder. Getting support from Powder meant they’d weeded out the posers and kooks and what they were backing wasn’t something or someone that was “aspiring” they were a cut above.”

“Powder brought a lot of things into the mainstream, raised awareness and helped to legitimize them: Jean-Marc Boivin, Patrick Vallencant, Pierre Tardivel, telemarking, monoskiing, snowboarding, the JHAF, Chamonix, La Grave, Mikaela Shiffrin, fat skis pre McConkey, skiing in South America….the list goes on.”

“I had some rowdy trips with Powder. Writing “Lost In America,” I went Utah-Montana-Fernie-Banff-Revelstoke via pickup truck, only backcountry skiing and camping in the mud. It was a month plus. I did another month plus in Nevada, which was after back to back Jackson and Silverton. Total time was two plus months. That was fucked up, I was super loose after that whole thing. So many sketchy days with total strangers”

“People forget that Powder was around long before the advent of the fucking pro skier. Starting in 1996, the magazine was in the impact zone of the ski industrial complex. There is limited space for content each season. It was a challenge to balance the pressure coming from the athletes and brands to cover something that was going to make them money vs. staying true to the Moe brothers original intent and profiling an eccentric skier, a unique location or even fucking ski racing.”

Full Circle - Photo: MJ Carroll

KEITH CARLSEN - Editor

“When I was young, Ski/Skiing didn’t do anything for my spirit, but Powder lit me up. It ignited a passion in diehard skiers and gave them a voice and community. It was focused on the counter culture - the type of people who rearrange their lives to ski. This was in direct opposition to other magazines that were targeting rich people, trying to explain technique, sell condos or highlight the amenities at a ski area.”

“Skiing has always been my outlet and mechanism to get away from things in life. My two talents are writing and photography, so I enrolled at Western State with the direct goal of landing an internship at Powder. Even at 19, I had complete focus on the direction I wanted to take. If it didn’t work out, my backup plan was to be a ski bum. 48 hours after graduating, I was headed to southern California to live in my van and start my position at Powder. When the decision was made to close the magazine, it was really personal for me. Powder had provided me direction in life for the last 30 years and I needed some time to process it. In a way, it was almost like going to a funeral for a good friend - even though it’s gone, the magazine lives on in all of us and can never be taken away.”

“It was, and will always remain, one of my life’s greatest honors to serve as the editor-in-chief for Powder Magazine. It was literally a dream that came true. I’m so grateful for everyone who came before me and everyone who served after me. That opportunity opened literally hundreds of doors for me and continues to do so today. I owe the magazine a massive debt of gratitude. Every single editor was a warrior and fought for the title with their lives. They were doing double duty - not only from competition with other publications, but the internal struggle of budget cuts, staff reductions and trying to do more with less. Powder never belonged in the hands of a corporation. The magazine spoke to an impassioned community and never made sense to an accountant or on a ledger.”

Trevor Petersen, Mt. Serratus, BC - Photo: Scott Markewitz/POWDER

SIERRA SHAFER - Editor In Chief

“Powder celebrated everything that is good and pure in skiing. It highlighted the old school, the new and the irreverent. The magazine also called bullshit when they saw it. It was a checkpoint, a cultural barometer and an honest reflection on where skiing has been and where it’s going.”

“My involvement with Powder came completely out of left field. I was never an intern or established in the ski industry. My background was strictly in journalism, I was a skier living in Southern California and editing a newspaper. I knew that I wanted to get the fuck out of LA and Powder was that opportunity. It was a huge shift going from my job and life being completely separate to work becoming my life. Literally overnight, Powder became everything - friends, connections and part of my identity. It derailed my trajectory in the best possible way.”

Brad Holmes, Donner Pass, CA - Photo: Dave Norehad/POWDER

MATT HANSEN - Executive Editor

“Keith Carlsen was a man of ideas, he had tremendous vision and influence. He came up with the ideas for Powder Week and the Powder Awards in 2001. In some respects those two events saved the magazine.”

“Powder was the soul of skiing and kept the vibe, it changed people’s lives and inspired them to move to a ski town. As a writer I always wanted to think it was the stories that did that, but in truth it was the photography. Images of skiing truly became an art form, 100% thanks to Powder Magazine and Dave Reddick. Dave cultivated and mentored photographers, he was always searching for the unpredictable image from around the world and pressed the photographers to look at things from a different angle.”

“It sounds cliche, but writing a feature about Chamonix was the highlight for me. Sitting on the plane, things were absolutely unreal. I linked up with Nate Wallace and the whole experience from start to finish was out of my comfort zone. Ducking ropes to ski overhead pow on the Pas De Chèvre, walking out of the ice tunnel on a deserted Aiguille du Midi right as the clouds parted, late nights in town that were too fuzzy to recall. The energy of the place taught me a lot. I didn’t have a smartphone and there was no Instagram - I had time to write, observe, take notes and be present with who I was and with the experience. As a writer it didn’t get any better.”

“The true gift of working for Powder, was the once in a lifetime adventures that I wish I could have shared with my family, I was so lucky to have had those opportunities. It almost brought tears to me eyes.”

Peter Romaine, Jackson Hole, WY - Photo: Wade McKoy/POWDER

DAVE REDDICK - Director of Photography

“Just ski down there and take a photo of something, for cryin’ out loud!”  “I’ve found that channeling McConkey has been keeping it in perspective. Powder’s been shuttered. That sucks. What doesn’t suck is the good times and the people that have shared the ride thus far and I’m just thankful to be one of them. There’s been some really kind sentiments from friends and colleagues, but this must be said - Every editor (especially the editors), every art director (I’ve driven them nuts), every publisher and sales associate, every photographer, writer, and intern, and all the others behind the scenes who’ve ever contributed their talents get equal share of acknowledgment for carrying the torch that is Powder Mag. There’s hundreds of us! No decision has ever been made in a vacuum. Always a collective. At our best, we’ve been a reflection of skiers everywhere and of one of the greatest experiences in the world. It’s that community, and that feeling, that is Powder. I’m not sure what’s next and I’m not afraid of change but”  “There’s something really cool about being scared. I don’t know what!”

Scot Schmidt, Alaska - Photo: Chris Noble/POWDER

DEREK TAYLOR - Editor 

“Powder was the first magazine dedicated to the experience and not trying to teach people how to ski. It was enthusiast media focused on the soul and culture. It’s also important to highlight the impact Powder had outside of skiing - today you have the Surfer’s Journal effect where every sport wants that type of publication. However, prior to their inception, everybody wanted a version of Powder.”

“Neil Stebbins and Steve Casimiro deserve a lot of credit for the magazine retaining its voice and staying true to the core group of skiers it represented.”

“Keith Carlsen is responsible for the idea behind Super Park. This was a time when skiing had just gone through a stale phase. There was a newfound energy in park skiing and younger generations, this event helped to rebrand Powder and solidify its goal of being all inclusive. Racing, powder, park, touring - it’s all just skiing.”

Joe Sagona, Mt. Baldy, CA - Photo: Dave Reddick/POWDER

JOHNNY STIFTER - Editor In Chief

“What did Powder mean to me... Well, everything. As a reader and staffer, it inspired me and made me laugh. I learned about local cultures that felt far away and learned about far away cultures that didn’t feel foreign, if that makes sense.”

“But I cherished those late nights the most, making magazines with the small staff. Despite the deadline stress, I always felt so grateful to be working for this sacred institution and writing and editing for true skiers. We all just had so much damn fun. And it didn’t hurt meeting such passionate locals at hallowed places, like Aspen and Austria, that I once dreamed of visiting and skiing. The Powder culture is so inclusive and so fun, I never felt more alive.”

Doug Coombs, All Hail The King - Photo: Ace Kvale/POWDER

HEATHER HANSMAN - Online Editor

“Powder is a lifestyle and an interconnected circle of people. It’s about getting a job offer at Alta, opening your home to random strangers, locking your keys in your car and getting rescued by a friend you made on a trip years ago. Through the selfish activity of skiing, you can create a community of people you cherish and can depend on through highs and lows.”

Ashley Otte, Mike Wiegele Heli, BC - Photo: Dave Reddick/POWDER

The contributions of so many talented individuals made the magazine possible. I would like to express my sincere gratitude to everyone who shared their experience at Powder with me. Also, I want to thank Porter Fox and David Page for crafting inspiring feature stories that I enjoyed immensely over the years.

After the reality set in that the final issue had arrived, a void was created for generations of skiers. I’ve been focused on being thankful for what we had, rather than sad it’s gone. It’s a challenging time for print media and I wholeheartedly advocate supporting the remaining titles in anyway you can. In a culture driven by a voracious appetite for mass media consumption and instant gratification - I cherish the ritual of waiting for a magazine to arrive, appreciating the effort that went into creating the content and being able to have that physical substance in my hand. Thanks for everything Powder, you are missed, but your spirit lives on.  

(Written by Sam Cox - March 25, 2020)

I strive to spend as much time as I can walking amongst individuals and landscapes that I harmonize with - they shine additional light into my world. Skiing provides an opportunity for clarity and perspective, but every ski season contains interruptions and unforeseen events. It’s all just a work in progress, the actual reward is the sum of the experiences along the journey. As the fabric that holds society together is being stretched thin by a pandemic and the tremendous ramifications associated with it, we’re all in this together. I reflected on some moments from earlier this winter that bring a smile to my face. I hope you enjoy them too.       

(Written by Ezra Butterfield - January 10, 2020)

Without doing any hard, scientific math or comprehensive data analysis, the average age of the core unit of Junkshow would hover around 38. We have had the pleasure of scabbing on some “young guns” if you will, but with that, comes the associated logistical challenges and anomalies that come with a generation plagued by helicopter parents and social media.

Teetering around what 20 years ago would be labeled as “over the hill”, comes with its own associated risks and challenges. Most of us have full time jobs or careers. Which has and continues to limit the amount of risk one is willing to take when your cash cow may be slaughtered at the bottom of a haphazardly scoped line or a saturated night prior to boot packing your “line.” Risk of injury looms near and clear when you have to rely on physical and emotional stability in anticipation of the next fire season. One starts to question the whole, risk versus reward montage if you will. “I know I can ski this line, I know I can shred this line, is it worth my career?”

Indiana Jones in ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’ summed it up best for me one late night while hammering down beers, “It’s not the years honey, it’s the mileage” or perhaps Micah Black in some foggy memory of a Powder article, and to grossly paraphrase, “I woke up one day and the cliffs just looked bigger.” Regardless of what it is, you do start to lose some of your “marbles.”

Most of our reward comes from the search. The ability to do the research, gather the crew with abilities and the want and go zone hunting. Understanding fully that you could be lapping The Wall stacking your Epic Mix account whilst dealing with the kooks and conundrums that come with the current state of our ski industry and its blatant disregard for the local “hamsters” that keep the machine turning and burning, or be out with a select group of trusted, mountain savy, brothers and sisters that share the thirst for exploration and memories as fresh as the nights re-up or as foggy as your first light goggles.

So when the opportunity presented itself; the opportunity to scope zones both old and new, drink beer and ski with our friends (our new friends being a Canadian conveyor belt of smiles and dials) while capturing some frames and contributing to the cause, lets just say we were more than eager. More than eager to make a top ten list of the last 20 years of broken A-arms, gas caches and good times and open the ark to the chosen ones.

As stated previously, the mileage starts to add up. The drive, the want and the need are still there. I imagine much like a lead dog having its “young guns” nip at its tail all day and night, he may have the vision and the desire, but the abilities just flat out diminish. The knees hurt a bit more, the swag is a bit maligned, the mind may have a harder time catching up with the body or even vice versa.

So when the code is cracked for a new zone, there may be lines that sit for winters. Lines that we all see year after year. Morning light, no light, flat light, headlight?  On the perfect day, with the perfect light and the perfect breakfast, your line may go down. May not be you. Hopefully it’s you. Usually it’s you picking your shit up and digging for a ski while they try to keep you out of the next shot. Hoping for that next perfect breakfast.

Point being, it was downright badass to go out, drink beer and ski with your friends. Your friends that absolutely shredded each zone. Those lines that were perused and glassed year after year going down as warm-up laps. With second breakfast, lunch and dinner being French Cuisine that I couldn’t even pronounce. All with a smile, a beer in hand (or a Rockstar) and a good time in ready supply. Even while falling prey to our fearless leaders “oh we got this” or “20 more minutes and it’ll be in”, they trusted, followed and wallowed all in search of the source.

It was an honor and a privilege and a helluva good time. Hope ya’ll enjoy

-Junkshow

(During the winter of 2019, Junkshow linked up with the Blank Collective for several weeks to assist with filming and scouting locations for a portion of their new film The 7 Stages of Blank)

(Written by Sam Cox - December 22. 2019)

The Bridger Brigade represents everything that’s right about skiing. In the event you’re not acquainted with them:

Bridger Brigade

Bridger Brigade Part II

This fall, Axel Peterson put together a retrospective entitled “Montana Nosebleed: Ten Years of Hucks and Heartbreaks” - I’d suggest watching it. We caught up recently to gain some insight about the project. 

-Axel, Montana Nosebleed is absolutely fucking beautiful.  How did it come to fruition?

Thank you Sam. It has been a long time coming (10 years in fact) since we all arrived in the big sky state with even bigger dreams. As we near the end of the decade and our 20’s we began thinking, “Hey, whatever happened to making the best ski movie ever?” and BAM we knew it was time to dust off the old hard drives. After the many weeks and beers it took to comb through 1 million gigabytes of footage, we realized that nobody wants to watch another minute of self-entitled “check-me-out” powder slashes with over exaggerated sound effects. So we decided to give the people what they really want: something real, low quality and rough aka a ten year crash movie. What is more real than eating shit with your buddies on the mountain? The name stemmed from the Brigade’s favorite cocktail “the Montana nosebleed” featured in the film’s intro and requiring some Coldsmoke beer, cheap whiskey, hot sauce, farm fresh egg, and Copenhagen (KT prefers already-chewed). Basically, we slapped some crashes together with some punk music and Rob held it down on the first take.

-Are you taking the film on tour?

We had a rowdy premier at a warehouse here in Bozeman in November. The screen was rigged from a welder’s shield, some magnets and duct tape and we had to run 60 feet of auxiliary cord through the crawl space to the sound system. All in all, it was a packed night and all 4 kegs were tapped in no time. We also took the film to Ketchum, ID for the Homegrown Film Fest, a fundraiser for the Sawtooth Avy Center. It was one of the more diverse films of the night and perhaps even a breath of fresh air for some. Now it is online for free, so go watch it.

-Give us an update on the Brigade - I know people are pursuing passions and living the good life….

Shit man, we are getting old. Randy just got his pilot license and is flying tours in Denver. Rob just bought a fishing boat to captain in AK this summer. I am doing film work full-time and working on more wildlife related projects. Despite all working ‘real’ jobs, we still find time to get together and FKNSNDR…we just prefer steeper landings now.

-What’s on tap for this season?

Hot laps at Bridger, some snowmobiling, and having a good fucking time! I am really hoping to get over to Idaho to continue working on the ‘Lost River Project’ which is on track to become our next ten year ski project.....

-Thanks for all of the stoke, inspiration and good times over the years.  Do you have any words of wisdom you’d like to share?

Keep your tips up and your phones down and make skiing great again! - Bridger Brigade

For your viewing pleasure:

(Written by Sidney Simard - October 7, 2019

This season was full of powder, big cliffs, and concussions... I competed all over North America and Europe.  I was also able to get out on the sled, and film as well.

   And of course had my fair share of blower days at Bridger.  Big thanks to all the sponsors, and everyone else who respects the grind.