Utah's been getting dumped.
In the past week and a half, I've ridden more days at Brighton than I have in the previous 2 years. This is a sad testament to my shred activity. I've also been ridiculously lazy in my approach to shooting shred, staying true to my number one rule of snowboard photography: "G11 from where I stand". This is my excuse for shitty angles... but hey, looking for the snowboarder against the trees makes for a fun game of Where's Waldo. Get into it.
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It's looked like this for days.
Brock making rabbitfood.
Shapers.
Jer, sending it at Wönder Kickër.
Trés ninjas, trés chic.
Adam, pointin' it.
Jer getting juiced.
Jer, tailgrab on the moon.
Brock is a fucking machine.
Brock is also a local. Do not forget this.
Hobbs says hi.
Somehow, I have no jump shots of Seth. I blame this on the fact that he consistently sends it faster than I can unzip my jacket and pull my camera out.
Essentials.
Gotta pay to play.
Low speed droppers are still fun.
Jared, doling out Stoke Points.
Utah fucking rules.
Q: What's the difference between a duck? A: A dog.
Jer, doing something.
Seth... not shredding. I'm fucking fired.
Jer, sacred sacramental coffee.
Brock, sacred sacramental Sprite.
Brock bringing around a pretty monsterhuge backflipper.
So necessary.
Sarah puts up with a lot of shit to hang with the boys.
This shot sucks. On a bluebird day, this shot would make an amazing credit card ad.
Brock is a fucking weirdo.
Brock fucking sends it. Always.
Jer, gripped.
Jer had to handle some sharky fingers to score these white lines in Hollywood, but he swears it was worth it.
I love this shit.
1 comment:
I would probably run into you up there if I wasnt banned for sneaking on the lift at the end of the season last year. Kinda miss some of those short hikes to the goods. Shred it for me.
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