No matter how awesome the riding in Whistler and Pemberton is, it’s gone once the snow hits. Spending copious amounts of time with Steve this summer I really noticed a few weak spots in his training program, so Mikey and I headed to Vancouver Island to guide him to further World Cup wins. Checking out the forecast before we were headed out, it looked to be the rainiest 4 days in recent memory. So I grabbed a 15 pack of Lucky and we headed off to check out the Island life. Growing up in Whistler I’ve been exposed to sick trails, rowdyism, bonfires, chainsaws, fireworks and many other exciting activities, but nothing would prepare me for the Island.
Waking up to the sound of pouring rain on the roof is not the greatest motivator to roll out of your warm dry bed, but with Mikey at the helm there is no slacking on the 6 am start time. After a half an hour of hydroplaning down the Island Highway we arrived at Mount Provost. The term wet does not describe the next 4 days of shooting and the thought of building an ark crossed my mind more than once during our days of shooting.
In the end it was a memorable trip to Vancouver Island: the trails were filled with hero dirt for miles and the locals showed us their amazing bowling skills. Dreams were crushed, cops were called, urinals were broken and I can’t wait to get back there. I am sure Steve’s neighbours are not looking forward to my return.
Slow mo fully justified… holy shit if that didn’t get you amped, something’s wrong.