THE PROOF IS IN THE POWDER. Since day one, Bomb Snow’s mission has been to provide a platform—a voice—for the snow obsessed. A stage for the ski bums, the misfits, and the artists. A place for the devoted pow-seekers to tell stories that matter. A printed and bound gathering place for those of us who have fought to keep skiing close to the core of our lives no matter the circumstance and no matter what the outside world thinks about it.
We are the outcasts, the underdogs. We are the few who know that life’s not about grinding your way into the next income bracket—it’s about hiking your way up to another un-tracked snow field, and the lofty feeling of flight on the way down. It’s about dancing and celebrating. It’s about friends and family and harvesting the fleeting fruits of the season. It’s about caring to live. If the bills are paid and the heat is on, we are caught up in the action. Oh-ooh-oh-oh, oh-ooh-oh-oh... Life is good!
Of course, not everyone feels this way, especially these days. And, if I’m being totally honest, being bummed out or lost in the heartbreak of the rat race is something I experience, too. Life ain’t easy. And life in the West is expensive. The cost of living is crushing the mountain towns we know and love. Our communities feel fractured, disenfranchised, and impossible to navigate. The complaints about living in paradise have never been louder. Trust me, I get it. This past summer almost wiped me and this magazine out. Like I said, shit ain’t easy.
But our ski bum spirits need not succumb to the madness. The constant pressure to do more, make more, want more, is the fattest lie going, and we’ve been fed it for years. Our inner ski bum knows better. Always has. Sure, my own snow-addicted ways are most likely the reason I’ve lost better paying jobs and had to sell all but the essential in order to stay afloat. It’s also probably why I’ve been through a divorce, have never watched Yellowstone, and could use some dental work and health insurance. However, when the snow is good, I still drop everything and run to the hills. And the same deep, genuine happiness that I’ve always felt, follows.
Truly, it doesn’t take much. The ingredients are more or less the same as they’ve always been; a roof over your head, some food in your belly, childcare for the grom (ok, that’s a new one for me), snow on the ground, some friends to share it with, and a ride to go shred.
As this new season starts, I propose a radical idea: What if we choose to remember the life-affirming joys of simply being skiers and snowboarders? What if we choose to set aside our troubles and embrace this winter with everything we have? What if we double down on the high art of living a ridiculously good life? What if we choose to dance?
I know what I’ll be doing. I hope to see you in the hills...Now tell me, Can you feel it?
* Lyrics written by Harold Faltermeyer and Keith Forsey, for The Beverly Hills Cop soundtrack album, sung by Glenn Frey.