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Eric Hjorleifson — in search of 'limitless skiing'

"Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation.
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Eric HJorleifson and Kevin Hjertaas ascending Mt Clemenceau.

"Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathize with humans whose experience we have never shared."

- Author JK Rowling

Call them dreamers. Or innovators. Or catalysts for change. Whatever. Some people just can't help themselves: they simply won't march to the beat of a conventional drum.

Eric Hjorleifson is that kind of guy. Celebrated around the snowsliding world for both his big-mountain riding skills and technical know-how, the 30-year old Whistlerite has never been afraid to challenge old assumptions. And the products he's helped to design over the years illustrate that well — whether it's his category-busting freeride skis for boutique manufacturer 4FRNT or his genre/bending freeride boots for mountaineering leader Dynafit.

But it's not like he has to assume a rebel's pose to do that. Soft-spoken in speech and understated in demeanour, Eric still exudes the fresh-faced enthusiasm of the archetypal kid next door. Start talking about new trends in ski or boot design and his eyes shine with excitement... this is the stuff, suggests his demeanour, that dreams are made of. And that's where things get really interesting. Why? Because behind Eric's deferential demeanour is a mind like a steel trap.

"I'd love to make a t-shirt with the slogan 'Alpine Skiing Is Dead,' stencilled across the front of it", he says with an impish grin. "That would be so cool." He stops for a beat. Then resumes in a different tone. "But seriously — my journey as a skier, my path of personal discovery, you know... what I've discovered on the mountain over the years: it's all about not letting your equipment limit your experience."

He stops again. Lets me digest his words. "You see, I want to be able to ski anything, anywhere, anytime... up and down. I want to live the 'complete' ski experience. To me, that's what the 21st century is all about: using new technology to help people discover age-old practices." He laughs. "It's about being self-propelled. Free. Independent... Limitless."

The fact that the ski industry has slowly begun to embrace Eric's vision only serves to strengthen his convictions. "Not so long ago," he says, "you'd phone a friend and ask: 'Are you going ski-touring today? Or are you going lift-skiing?'" He pauses. "No more. You can use the same boot-and-ski set-up now... and have fun all day, whether you're carving down the groomers or hiking deep into the backcountry. That's what I mean by 'alpine is dead'. There's no need to limit yourself to one discipline anymore." He shrugs. "The great news is that people are discovering this every day!"

And that, he says, is going to have a profound impact on the ski business.

He was a racer grom from Canmore. He virtually grew up on skis; spent his early youth following his dad's ski tracks across Rocky Mountain resorts like Fortress, Sunshine Village, Norquay and Lake Louise. And he loved going fast... really loved going fast. But by the late-1990s, FIS racing wasn't really doing it for the young teenager anymore. Getting upside down was way more fun.

"I kept at the racing thing until I was sixteen," explains Eric, "but when it started to get really serious and expensive and stuff... well that really frustrated me." He stops. Let's another beat pass. "Meanwhile, I was also hanging out on the hill with my buddies building jumps and experimenting with inverted aerials of all sorts..."

He stops again. Smiles like a little kid. "And that, of course, was strictly prohibited." He laughs. "I mean, in those days, skiers weren't even allowed into the terrain parks... but we snuck in anyway. We had a lot of fun being ski bandits."

It all came to a head when a photo of Eric appeared in the local paper, the Banff Crag & Canyon. "It was a great shot," he enthuses. "A big backflip. My buddies all thought it was awesome." But it wasn't a big hit with his ski club, the Banff Alpine Racers. Seemed like a break-up was imminent.

But Eric still wasn't done with the sport. 'The last year I raced," he says, "I got to compete at a Nor Am downhill on the very same Lake Louise course where they'd run a women's World Cup the week before." He stops. Sighs. "That was the high point of my ski racing career. To this day, I've never gone as fast... or been so afraid."

And that was that. The next year Hjorleifson joined Guy Mowbray's newly created Rocky Mountain Freeriders club. "I was one of its first members," says Eric proudly. He couldn't have joined at a better time. "Twin tips, new shapes, new moves, wild jumps... We were in the very vanguard of the new freeride/freestyle movement." Another big sigh. 'There was so much progression going on back then... it was sick."

Indeed. And people were beginning to pay attention to the young skier's own progress. "(Banff's) Monod Sports started a freeride team," recounts Eric. "And I was invited to become its first junior member. I think that was around 1999 or so. That was also the start of the Sunshine Freeride Comps. And although I was still too young to compete, I got to forerun it the second year — which was totally awesome."

Still, he says, his focus remained on jumping. "I just had to jump," he explains. "We'd build these huge kickers, you know. Spend hours and hours in the terrain park. I was so keen." He laughs. "But I was still very raw..."

Eric was also starting to venture beyond the boundaries with some of the sport's more established names. "I feel so lucky to have been part of that. I mean, having big-mountain mentors like Andrew Sheppard and Kevin Hjertaas — that was huge. They totally took me under their wing — essentially, they're the ones who introduced me to 'the backcountry.'" He laughs. "I still remember walking through Monod's and buying my transceiver, and my alpine trekkers and my probe and shovel and..."

Soon he was following Sheppard and company deeper and deeper into the mountains: sledding, hiking, climbing, skinning — learning new skills and refining old ones. "But the Rockies is a harsh mistress," he admits. "Growing up there certainly 'seeded' my appreciation for snow." He grins. "I constantly dreamed of snow falling, constantly imagined snow falling, constantly wished for snow falling..." He chuckles. "I was obsessed with snow. Mainly, I guess, because it never snowed!"

Clearly a change was in the wind. "It all came together — I think it was in the spring of 2001 — when Peter Monod took the Freeride Team up to Wiegele's for a week of heli-skiing." He stops. Sighs wistfully. "That was an amazing week," he continues. "A bunch of American film crews — Matchstick, Poor Boyz, some snowboard guys — were all up there too, shooting big-air stuff. As for me, well... all I wanted to do was slide into the heli with the jumpers. Wow. Filmmaking, to me back then that was the summit of it all. The very cutting edge of the sport..."

In the film business, timing is everything. And Eric's timing that week was faultless... he was invited one morning to jump aboard a film crew's chopper and show them what he could do, so that's what he did. "I hit those jumps man... I was on fire! I hit everything in sight." He laughs. "And I was doing it surrounded by the biggest names in the sport! And they seemed to be fine with what I was doing. That was so cool..."

Hjorleifson was clearly making a good impression on his elders. "Ken Achenbach was at Wiegele's as well that week. And when I told him how keen I was about visiting Whistler, he told me that he ran a summer program on Blackcomb Mountain called The Camp of Champions. He said: 'If you want to come to Whistler for the summer, I can get you a volunteer job on the glacier.'" He laughs. "I think I accepted before Ken had even ended his sentence."

And that's pretty much how Eric Hjorleifson left the comfortable confines of his Rocky Mountain home and re-established himself in Whistler's coastal snow zone. Lots happened in between of course. Return trips to Banff and Canmore; a brief (but intense) fling with Revelstoke and the incredible panoply of mountain terrain in the North Columbia drainage; and a long association as principal talent with Matchstick Productions that took him to the four corners of the snow globe.

But the allure of Whistler powder, a budding career as freeride coach and mountain guide — and the love of a good Whistler woman (ski/bike diva Jenn Ashton) — has assured Eric's continued loyalty to the Coast Range.

Would he ever consider moving back to the Rockies? Eric doesn't answer right away. "Oh man," he says finally, "I love those mountains; they're part of who I am." He smiles ruefully. "But live there full time? Frankly, I'm not sure. I don't know anymore if I could be patient enough to wait for the snow to fall."