words: Jenna Kuklinski
I was splayed out on the asphalt of the gas station, my hand wedged between two tires, pressing against the tube as Shaun tried to pump as much air in as possible. It was 9 am; lifts were opening, and people were beginning to slip the course. The air shut off. I tried to get my hand out from between the tires and realized our pumping had worked — the tire was inflated and I now had my wrist caught between the two wheels themselves, holding me down to the ground. Shaun laughed as I struggled to free myself of the rubber vice. We threw a few more quarters in the pump and inflated the tire a bit more before calling it good enough and loading up into the rig, attempting to make it to the course before we missed our runs.
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Ralph, staying low, being powerful. | Photo: Jenna Kuklinski
I was there with three riders — Ralph Kucharek, Johnny Brady and Beau Bishop; Shaun Daley was there shooting photos, and Danny Kern was filming. Mount Baker was the kick-off to our ten-day Bonfire Team trip. We would have more riders join us in the coming days, but for now it was a crew of six taking on the turns and berms at the 30th annual Legendary Banked Slalom. Conditions throughout the four-day event fluctuated between snow, sun, blizzard and rain.
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As the event wrapped up on the final day, snow began to accumulate, inch after inch. The original plan post-LBS had been to scoop up the crew, rally through the night into Canada and ride Mount Seymour the next day. But when you’re traveling via RV you go where the snow is, and it was at Baker.
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Stairway to heaven. | Photo: Shaun Daley
The Monday following LBS was the opportune time to explore the out-of-bounds terrain at Baker, and we quickly made our way up the lift and past the boundary gates, joined by Parker Duke, Desiree Melancon and Taylor Boyd.
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Parker spotted a slot between two trees and got scouting advice from below. Then he sent it — straight into the top of a tree. He’d been with us for less than twelve hours and we were sure he’d broken both his legs. A few tense moments ticked by as we watched a cloud of snow appear and dissipate. And there he was, riding away, unscathed. That guy must travel with a rabbit’s foot in the pocket of his Bonfire pants.
A little further down, Beau, Johnny and Parker saw a spot above us that looked like the perfect place to build a stepdown. So, the group parked itself at the base of a face and spent the rest of the daylight building, hiking, sending and applauding. Once the lip was solid, the show began, and Beau, Johnny and Parker kept the group and cameramen entertained.
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As daylight waned, we packed up our things and loaded into the RV — the plan to make a late-night push across the border to Squamish and link up with Dustin Craven in the morning. Of course, a 30-foot RV packed with American snowboarders is one of the most conspicuous things you can drive into Canada.
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The Forester prepares to depart from Baker, as the last light shines on Shuksan. | Photo: Shaun Daley
[aesop_quote type=”block” align=”right” quote=”They wanted a good, long look into the guys’ reddened, glassy eyes.”]
When we arrived at the border, patrol promptly had us wheel our mobile home into Secondary. They wanted a good, long look into the guys’ reddened, glassy eyes — “We’re exhausted from riding all day, officer; we swear.” Parker, who came to Canada with technically legal documents but no passport, got called up to the counter separately. When he came back, he told us we were all good — all of us except him. He had a trespassing ticket from five years ago and Canada considered him a felon. We sat trying to figure out what to do. Leaving one of the guys stranded at the Canadian border at 1 am wasn’t part of the plan.
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Johnny buries his head as Parker approaches the counter to determine his fate. | Photo: Shaun Daley
The same officer who had talked to Parker moments earlier called him back up twice more — once to tell Parker he could cross the border if he paid $200, then to say, “Don’t think it’ll be this easy next time.” He waived the fee and made Parker a temporary Canadian citizen so he could continue on the trip. Basically, he went from fugitive to resident in a matter of minutes, and we all got out of there before the officer second-guessed his decision.
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A few hours later, following a dazed breakfast of mostly coffee, we made it onto the Whistler gondola and met up with Dustin Craven. Joining Dustin was local legend and Bonfire’s Canadian Sales Manager, Chris Nicholls, or Nix. His presence insured no one was bored for a second.
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On the gondola… Finally | Photo: Shaun Daley
The spot of the day turned out to be a massive natural windlip that formed both a quarter pipe and a stepup. Ralph, Dustin and Nix were captivated by what they could pull off on the tranny, while Johnny and Parker were more keen to send it over the gap.
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After an amazing day on-hill at Whistler, we made plans to get up before the sun the next morning and make a mission out of getting eight people into the backcountry on five sleds.
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The ride out went smooth until we hit “The Gauntlet”, where Dustin told us we needed to be especially cautious — that it wasn’t too bad of a climb, but if anything went wrong, “Every flip of the sled is another dollar sign.” Basically, don’t fuck up…
[aesop_quote type=”block” align=”right” quote=”He didn’t notice the 500-pound hunk of metal catapulting toward him, and for the second time on this trip we all thought we were about to see Parker die.”]
Beau and I crested the first of two humps and looked ahead to see Ralph bail off the sled he was sharing with Dustin’s friend Charles. The sled began to roll over Charles. Somehow, the throttle got pinned as he was under the sled track. The engine revved and Charles shot off the paddles like the subject of a YouTube treadmill fail. The snowmobile flipped a few more times before righting itself. Suddenly, it was ghost-riding, rocketing down the hill. I leapt out of the way, only to turn around and see Parker rising over the first hump. He didn’t notice the 500-pound hunk of metal catapulting toward him, and for the second time on this trip we all thought we were about to see Parker die. The sled hit a bump in the snow, launched itself into the air, flipping twice more before coming to a halt 6 feet away from him. Somehow, everyone was fine.
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Cresting the top after an intense ride up. | Photo: Shaun Daley
Dustin took us to the famous Forum stepdown. Fortunately for us, no one had tried their luck with it lately, so the landing was pristine. Dustin, Beau, Johnny and Parker made their way to the top to build the run-in, Shaun billy-goated his way up the side to get the best angle, and before we knew it they were calling drops.
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This jump is difficult to say the least, and it gave the guys something to work through as they set out to land their tricks. As much as it was frustrating for someone to barely blow out a landing, everyone at the bottom was rooting for them that much more to finally nail it. After some time, everyone got their shot, and the crew went nuts after each successful send.
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A break for lunch in the backcunch.| Photo: Shaun Daley
After lunch the crew took turns lapping a perfect windlip and some mellow spines. Dustin impressed us again with his smooth style, sending a back seven over the windlip, Parker and Johnny following up with a back three, big method and a nice backie.
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Dustin boosts a back seven off the windlip we came across. | Photo: Shaun Daley
[aesop_quote type=”block” align=”right” quote=”…we made our way down to the hot, steamy, drunken basement to see what we could get into.”]
By late afternoon, temperatures had risen and the snow was turning to hot concrete, making riding unnecessarily difficult. It was time to vacate the remote zones and head back to the parking lot before we made our way to town for the evening.
After some warm-up drinks at a bar with a giant wooden bear outside, we found our way to the infamous Garf’s. Because we were traveling with local legend Beau Bishop, the doorman graciously let us in without requiring a bribe, and we made our way down to the hot, steamy, drunken basement to see what we could get into.
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Not Andrew Geeves’ first time at Garf’s. | Photo: Shaun Daley
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It’s said that doctors in Whistler treat two things: broken bones and STDs. | Photo: Shaun Daley
Late night in Whistler frequently turns to early morning, so it wasn’t shocking when we ended up back in the RV at 3:30 am.
Luckily for our pounding heads, we spent the entirety of the next day driving, so we had ample time to quietly nurse our hangovers. It was back over the border and into Washington to make our final stop at Mission Ridge. The lack of new snow anywhere in the PNW and glimpses of their brand-new bowl park was enough to convince us we had to go.
The park had three alternating cones that led into a large tabletop — the center of which, park manager Eric Baker told us was about to be dug out to form a bowl — followed by a rolling hip and then three more plateaued berms. The options were endless.
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Ralph nails a front three over the nipple. | Photo: Shaun Daley
Ralph found his happy place, putting together a line of threes over the nipples, while Parker sought out a transfer over the table, spinning a huge back five perfectly synced to follow Ralph’s line. Johnny went his own direction, finding places to handplant and doing his best tribute to Mike Rav — buttering around the berms and over the tops of features. The day ended with a session over the middle hip, with backflips from Johnny, big methods from Ralph and pristine threes and fives from Parker.
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The sun was setting, and ski patrol rolled through to tell us it was time to get off the mountain. We packed our bags and the small pile of beer cans that had begun to accumulate and made our way down the now iced-over slope. Arriving at the parking lot and unstrapping marked the official end of our time on snow for this trip, but we made sure to loiter at the RV, shooting the shit with Baker and letting him know how awesome his home mountain was.
After we’d stuffed ourselves full of Mexican food, we had no choice but to load up the RV and begin the final push to Portland. Like every time we left anywhere, we got a late start, and with our collective food comas creeping in, we had a long, groggy trip ahead. It was one of those drives though, that makes you happy to simply exist. On the empty, open road, exhausted from the marathon we had endured and beyond stoked on the locations, conditions and people we’d encountered in our ten days together, we wouldn’t have had it any other way.
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