It snowed in Aspen most of the weekend, and even though it was sunny and 60 degrees by Sunday, I’d already taken my snowboard out of the garage and performed my annual First Snow ritual: I got dressed in all my gear and jumped up and down on the furniture with my snowboard strapped to my feet, envisioning the tricks I say I’m going to master every year while my dog sat there panting and looking at me like I was crazy.
Right in the midst of my little one-woman party, I got a phone call from my old friend Jeremy Jones in Lake Tahoe, a pro snowboarder I’d been asked to interview for a snowboarding-related website. I plopped down on the couch, snowboard still strapped to my feet, only taking my hat, goggles and mittens off while I talked to him.
There’s a lot of buzz surrounding Jones’ standout segments in this year’s newest ski and snowboard videos (including Standard Films’ “Draw the Line,” and “Anomaly” by Teton Gravity Research). The almost immortal ease with which he negotiates the steep, gnarly walls of Alaska’s biggest peaks was well-documented last season. And in a sport without organized contests, Jones is being hailed as the best big mountain snowboarder in the world.
“It blows my mind that you’re still out there doing this stuff,” I told him. I first met Jones on location at Island Lake Lodge in British Columbia for a photo shoot with Transworld Snowboarding magazine in 1997.
I can honestly say he was the first pro snowboarder I met that I actually liked, and the only one I’ve remained friends with. He’s just this humble, laid-back, sweet guy with thick, dark curls, toffee-
colored eyes and this sort of Donny Osmond megawatt smile (picture: top teeth and bottom teeth showing) that lights up his face and everyone else’s, too. He’s loved only one woman in his life, a snowboarder and surfer girl he met in Tahoe named Tiffany Sabol, and he married her. They had their first baby, Mia Grace, last year. I mean, the guy is almost a little too perfect for words.
His decade-long progression in big mountains includes countless first descents. He often has to outrun his slough (when the top layers of snow release and build in intensity and force as they move down the mountain), which looks as threatening as getting pounded by heavy whitewater in big waves.
Jones is known for not only outrunning sloughs, but actually riding them, staying on his feet despite the tremendous force and speed that is catapulting him down the mountain.
He’s also mastered the art of what he calls “riding spines,” navigating the apex of narrow chutes by hopping – and in ideal conditions, launching 40- to 60-foot airs – from one side of the rib to the other.
“This year I got the biggest audience response I’ve ever seen. I totally wasn’t expecting that,” Jones said of attending video premieres in Tahoe and Jackson Hole. “It only goes to show people will always love slough riding. That’s the essence of pure big- mountain snowboarding.”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t worry about him, going out year after year and pushing the boundaries in what is a potentially fatal occupation. That’s a reality Jones was reminded of when his mentor, Doug Coombs, perished in La Grave, France, last winter. Even though Jones has an almost Zen-like understanding and respect for the power of big mountains, he remains confident.
“I’d way rather be out there doing the stuff I do than guiding clients down 30- and 40-degree slopes,” he said, explaining that steeper terrain has much lower avalanche potential than what people mistake for “tamer” slopes that tend to be loaded with deeper, heavier snowpack than the near-vertical walls that Jones is known for.
It was guiding clients down a “mellow” slope in British Columbia that had claimed the life of legendary pro snowboarder Craig Kelly, who had been another one of Jones’ friends and mentors.
I’d been on location with Jones in big mountains once in 1998, and lived to tell about it. That was enough for me. I told him I still get plenty of joy from snowboarding the wide-open groomed terrain at Snowmass, thank you very much. I still get joy from snowboarding in my own darn living room.
As we were talking, snow spiraled around outside my window, luminescent flakes dancing the afternoon away like stars in the midnight sky. Even though we are worlds apart in terms of the type of riding we do, he knows the feeling that comes when the snow starts to fall. Life begins all over again with the joy that is winter.
Learn more — For information about “Anomaly,” visit www.tetongravity.com or check out www.standardfilms.com to learn about “Draw the Line.”
Freelance columnist Alison Berkley can be reached at alison@berkleymedia.com.
