4 minute read
Halina Boyd
maiden voyage
When the holidays wrap up and a new year emerges, the presence of Old Man Winter takes hold in Jackson Hole. It is the start of filming season—a time to assemble a crew and embark into the mountains. Marking this moment last season, Bryan Iguchi and Mark Carter spearheaded a trip to Box Y Lodge in the Greys River area near Alpine, Wyoming. A storm delivering more than 30 inches was on its way followed by blue skies and frigid temps. Snowboarder Pat Moore, along with Tanner Pendleton, director of the new Vans snowboard film, Landline, and Aaron Blatt, photographer and backcountry pancake enthusiast, met us to commemorate the occasion.
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During the storm’s final and fierce day, we sledded out 30 miles with supplies strapped to our machines. With the snow unrelenting and the temps dropping, we made multiple stops to check for frostbite, readjust our face protection and apply more layers. The discomfort, though, was short-lived. A home-cooked meal at Box Y awaited us. Nestled in a valley between the Wyoming and Salt River Mountain Ranges, the family-run business offers a remote retreat with a lodge and eight private cabins with endless wilderness to explore.
We awoke at dawn to crisp air and bright sunshine. The cold pierced its way through every piece of outerwear we could reasonably fit on our bodies. We noshed on oatmeal and eggs, struggled to start our sleds and headed out to a pillow zone across the pass. It was no small task breaking trail into the zone. Carter took the lead rampaging through the woods and setting the first track. After a couple minor tree collisions, the crew followed suit. We set up basecamp at the bottom of a half-moon ridge of rock shelves and pillow stacks. Daylight was fleeting, but the terrain was plentiful so we would spend a few days returning to the area.
Watching this crew select lines and destroy terrain is always awe-inspiring. It is something video footage cannot capture. Carter wasted no time handling a few of the trophy lines glistening in the sun. Moore followed him up, linking big drops together and mashing his way through the deep snow. Guch, meanwhile, eyed a backlit mini spine, threw a backside slash, disappeared in the mist, then shot out the bottom like a surfer flying out of a barrel.
WORDS: BLAKE PAUL
PHOTOS: AARON BLATT
The trip’s zenith arrived in the form of a possible gap jump off the road. The run-in looked funky with a mandatory 90-degree turn and quick transition. The landing also seemed a bit flat, not to mention the size of the gap was massive. So naturally, one day as darkness fell, we headed to check it out. I was leery, but Moore’s confidence and motivation rubbed off on me. Most of the crew headed back for the night, but we decided to stay and start building it. Tomorrow was our last day, after all.
When we returned the next day, the gap, lit up by the morning sun, appeared even larger. Defeated in rock-paper-scissors, Moore was forced to guinea pig it. As I counted him and judged his speed I remembered thinking, “Damn, he’s really flying into this thing.” He took off the lip with a loud “whoosh” and soared like a bird though the air, vanishing past the landing. I breathed a small sigh of relief; it was possible to clear the gap.
Moore and I sessioned it for a few tries each and on my second try, I lost control. Unable to handle the speed or the compression, I went completely upside down and landed on my back on the knuckle. Frustrated yet determined to land something, I made a point, on my final voyage, to control myself through the run-in and off the lip, to spin as slowly as possible. But the jump didn’t have much pop, it felt like a giant drop with a ravine you had to clear in the landing. In the air, my stomach churned like I was strapped into a mega rollercoaster. I blacked out for a moment before somehow riding away, unscathed, bouncing through the little rolls in the landing. A feeling of accomplishment registered as Carter congratulated me at the bottom. These are the highs and lows of filming.
We sledded back to the cabins and celebrated with some wine and a last supper before jetting back to civilization the next morning. Another storm was on its way and the crew was fired up for the season ahead. Something about being completely off the grid brings renewed meaning to the process. I’m grateful to people like Carter and Guch for helping me to see that new meaning. Cheers to the season ahead.
Blake Paul is a board rider, traveler, and amateur adult human from Jackson.
Blake Paul launches a massive gap in Nowhere, Wyoming.
