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Thrash or Hunt - will the real Johnny please stand up?

"What seems to be absurdity and is not is better than the ignorance of the men who think it is absurd." Sufi poet Attar of Nishapur "Hey," the familiar voice came scuffling over the telephone. "If I lose you, it's because my battery is down.
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"What seems to be absurdity and is not is better than the ignorance of the men who think it is absurd."

Sufi poet Attar of Nishapur

"Hey," the familiar voice came scuffling over the telephone. "If I lose you, it's because my battery is down." And then he cackled and I couldn't help but smile. "He-e-e-e-re's Johnny," I thought.

I could hear the sounds of the road in the background. Feel every jolt, every pothole the truck hit as it wound its painful, two-hour journey back from the oil rig where he works. A long moment passed. "You still there?" Another whiskey-and-cigarette laugh. I said I was. "It's because I left my phone in the car all day," he explained. "I guess my battery just doesn't like the -40C temperature out here..."

A little static. A few more croaks. And that was it from Saskatchewan. I didn't hear from John again until the next day.

I never bought into the Johnny Thrash routine. Sure, it was entertaining. And the kid was funny. But I never belonged to the gangs of voyeuristic bystanders egging him on to outdo his last outrageous shtick with yet another head-turning routine. I didn't like the spectators' raw hunger. Didn't like their cruelty. It was like they were living all their dark dreams through the lanky-haired wildman who partied like a rock star.

No. I was more interested in the kid hiding behind the mask. Frankly, I never really saw the Thrash character. What I saw was a mountain-loving, slightly insecure doctor's son from Fort Saskatchewan, Alberta doing his best to make a place for himself in a kooky new world that didn't seem to have any limits.

Mostly what I saw was former ski racer John Hunt; a kid from the flatlands who got turned on to sliding on snow by bashing gates and running downhill in the Rockies. Who found his passion on the mountain after realizing he was just too small and light to be successful in the rough-and-tumble world of school team sports.

Sadly, I also saw the downward spiral this Thrash character had imposed on its creator. It scared me to imagine the consequences that this leap to underground stardom would impose on the kid. And when the police finally busted him for rolling down Blackcomb Way - entirely nude - and spinning inside a giant gyrosphere, I knew the end was near for the obstreperous star of Ski Bums .

But that's all water under the bridge now. After all, that was over 10 years ago...

It's the next day and Johnny's battery is operational again. "I'm so sorry, man," says the 41-year-old in that same scratchy, adenoidal voice that I remember so well. I can still hear the road noises in the background. "We got into all sorts of s**t last night and I just couldn't get back to you," he adds. "I'm really, really sorry..."

So I want to know. Thrash or Hunt these days? Wild or sober? He laughs uproariously. "Definitely Hunt," he says. "No place for a guy like Thrash on an oil rig. He wouldn't last an hour!" The truck erupts with laughter. I now realize we have an audience.

How are you faring with the roughnecks, I ask. "How am I doin' guys," he asks his truck mates. More laughter. Some applause. "Pretty well, I think," he says. "It's a good crew. But it ain't easy..."

We quickly get into the meat of the story. It all started, he says, when he met Johnny Amsterdam. "We were introduced at some random film wrap party," says Thrash, who'd been working for some years on the outskirts of the movie business. "And we hit it off right away. John was a beginner/intermediate skier, but he was really keen to learn about the Whistler lifestyle."

Amsterdam - aka Academy Award-winning filmmaker John Zaritsky - was fascinated by Thrash and his mountain buddies. Their outrageous "survival" stories, he figured, would transfer well onto the big screen. And with Thrash as his entry into this world, Zaritsky's movie would benefit from the kind of backstage pass that few outsiders ever get. "So we decided to go for it," says Thrash. "John told me: 'I'm heading off to Toronto to pitch this film to the money guys.' But I didn't expect a whole lot to come from it."

When he actually came back with a budget from the National Film Board - $460,000! - Thrash couldn't believe his eyes. Money for helicopter skiing. Cash for good meals. A real budget to actually make a good movie. And with all his buddies in it too! Johnny thought he'd died and gone to heaven.

But even here, the Thrash/Hunt paradox was still playing itself out. "My on-film character was Thrash," he says. "But when it came to production time, I was John Hunt." Another machine-gun burst of laughter. "The mucky-mucks in Toronto never made the connection. Here was this Thrash guy on screen but they were dealing with a line producer called Hunt." A long pause. "We had a good time with that one."

Have you seen Ski Bums? The darling of the Whistler Film Festival - the first movie, in fact, to be premiered there in the festival's inaugural year - Ski Bums celebrated something of a milestone this year when it was shown again at the WFF to mark its 10 th anniversary. And most of the original gang was there to represent.

"I thought it was pretty good a decade ago," opines Thrash of the film. "But I was still catching our mistakes during that first showing." He takes a long breath. I wonder if he's smoking a cigarette while we talk (he is). "I was really impressed with it this time around though." He cackle-laughs happily. "Like a good wine it just keeps getting better."

But seriously. "No. No. Really. Did you catch Crucial Mike's scenes? He's so good, man. The camera loved him. He was definitely the star..."

They all were. And none crazier than Thrash. But the gyrosphere caper nearly did him in.

Remember all the brouhaha that caused? The stunt quickly veered out of control when the cops were called. No humour at all. Just business. Thrash was led away in handcuffs - still as naked as the day he was born - and booked for public nudity and mischief.

The outcome? Johnny Thrash was the guy who got busted but it was John Hunt who would have to face the consequences.

"They really got me, man," he says. Any trace of humour has disappeared now. This is all Hunt. "They harassed me and beat-up on me and made my life utterly horrible." He sighs, "If Greg Stump hadn't stepped in and found me a lawyer, I don't know, man..."

The Thrash arrest was a game-changer for Whistler. Say what? I know. I know. All you responsible moms and dads out there trying to "protect" your kids mostly think stunts like this are stupid. Stupid they may be. But back in the late '90s, nudity at Whistler was far from a criminal activity.

It was a way of life. Windsurfing on Alta Lake. Hanging out at the Lost Lake dock. Consider: Whistler's most iconic photo, the infamous Toad Hall poster, bears the naked likeness of some of Whistler's most respected citizens today...

Johnny's stunt was nothing more than a little kid's plea for attention. He should have gotten a whack across the buttocks and released. But for some reason, the authorities of the day decided to make an example of him. Maybe it was the spectre of the Olympic rings. Maybe it was the greying of the population. Or the fact that more condos needed to get sold. No matter - John Hunt became the scapegoat for all our sins.

And he paid dearly. Went to jail. Was forced to see psychiatrists and social workers. Had to move out of the valley eventually. "That was a nasty period in my life," he admits. No laughter anymore. "I really had to go deep into myself to find out who I was again."

Which explains the long truck rides back and forth to the oil rig now. "I'm definitely paying the piper," he says. "I've got to get on with my life. Being Thrash was great for a while. But I let others define who I was. And that led me down a very dangerous path."

Fortunately, you can't keep a guy like Johnny Hunt down for long. "One last thing," he says. I can almost feel the conspiratorial wink coming. "Can you let the ladies know I'm single?" We both laugh. And then for just a blink, he gets serious again. This isn't Thrash talking. This is a lonely man searching for his next connection. "I'm looking for a soulmate, man. Someone who loves me for me. I'm really tired of being alone..."

But before I can respond, he's cracking jokes again with the crew. The sound of the road rumbles through the phone's speaker.  I realize that's all I'm going to get today.