The margins are low, but the stoke is high

Words and photos by Simen Strandås

Chasing faster, higher, stronger, something got stretched thin along the way. The nerve lines between shops, distributors, riders, athletes, regular snowboarders and brands — got stretched. I don’t know if they ever fully snapped, but there’s no doubt they got weaker. Worn out.

Careful what you wish for. You just might get it.

When snowboarding finally got the recognition “we” wanted, the culture got watered down. The music in the movies became more marketable. Coaches started explaining what scored the most points. Creativity got traded for results. And slowly, piece by piece, all the different groups that once shared the same understanding drifted apart.

You probably thought this was about to turn political. Maybe it is. But don’t expect answers. We are where we are.

There’s been less happening locally these last years. Less money around. Outside players don’t really want to buy coolness from snowboarding anymore because, honestly, it’s not considered that exciting now. Fewer distributors. Fewer shops. The “cool” brands are owned by investment firms, with sales reps sitting far away from the local scenes they’re supposed to represent. Which means fewer people on the ground to support stuff, start events, or even care about what’s happening in the local community.

But something’s simmering in Norway right now. Hopefully in other places too.

Hard times build strong scenes.

Ten years ago, the people putting things together could at least expect to walk away with a little money in their pocket. Those days are dead. And most of those people disappeared with them.

But I’ve seen it this winter. Every month. Every week. Every damn day.

I’ve heard it in lift lines, in snowboard shops, standing on top waiting to drop. I’ve felt it when I finally nail the only proper carve of the day. When I’ve hit the junior park one lap too many — pushing 50 now — and my knees scream at me for it. When I collapse into the driver’s seat after a full day riding, completely smoked.

They keep showing up.

More and more of them.

They organize stuff. Plan things. Gather small crews. Start podcasts. Throw parties. Arrange rail jams. Drag a grill into the park and bring together people who still love snowboarding for what it is. They spend insane amounts of time and energy on it and usually end up losing money.

Then they do it again anyway.

Maybe they learned something from history.

We wanted recognition. We got it. Maybe it cost too much.

First came the support, the money, the attention. Then came the consequences. We turned into thin soup. Diluted over time. Now we’re left standing here with the same love for the act itself, but nobody really wants us anymore.

And somehow… that’s exactly why it’s fun again.

Stuff is happening. More than there’s been for the last ten years. They couldn’t kill snowboarding. They didn’t water it down enough. They couldn’t convince enough people that snowboarding should only be about scores, extra rotations, smiling politely and thanking the grown-ups for letting us play at their table.

There’s something deeper in this thing.

The playfulness. The personal progression. A community that supports the individual in a way organized team sports never can. Right now it’s the people who love snowboarding for its core values still standing here. Losing money. Winning hearts. Rebuilding the core of what made sliding on snow a place for everyone who never really fit into the normal molds created by people chasing completely different goals in life.

This was supposed to be a story about a mini pipe session in Tryvann, Oslo.

For me, that day turned into one of the best days I’ve had in years. Proof of the feeling that’s been building for a while now.

I’ll come back to the mini pipe story another time. I’m pretty sure that’s exactly the kind of thing snowboarding needs more of. No, I’m not talking about me writing, but mini pipes, lots of them!