Speedriding

The Unrideables: Speedriding

Words: Andreas Tzortzis
Photography: Scott Serfas

There are faces and bluffs in remote Alaska considered unfit for skiing. But what if you brought a wing as well? Meet the thrillseekers of the nascent sport of speedriding, where drop-offs turn into take-offs, and powder playgrounds are everywhere.

As the morning light bathed the top of the 9,000-foot mountain, Jon DeVore stood near the peak and waited for the breeze. The more wind, the easier it would be to pop the 8 square feet of parachute trailing behind him. Below him stretched a line so absurd it had never been attempted before on skis.

It included clearing two 100-foot gaps, catching massive air to land on a small knoll and then clearing another huge gap after that, before finishing through a narrow ravine with four-story ice blocks on each side. The peak was called the Rowel, and DeVore and his fellow speedriders, American Andy Farrington and Italian Filippo Fabbi, had spent several days scouting it.

As a small gust came through, DeVore waited like a surfer scanning for a perfect set. When the next gust arrived, DeVore yanked his “wing” into the air and headed downhill.

Speedriding

The lines they took down the mountains were carefully scouted and dissected by plane and map. 

The Rowel was the crown jewel of a two-week trip to the southern edge of the Alaska Range, an area known for feats of backcountry skiing and snowboarding. The trip’s purpose was twofold: to ski areas that had never been touched before, and to raise awareness and set new standards in the nascent sport of speedriding.

“First and foremost we wanted to find something that no one’s ever been down before,” said DeVore. “And nobody has ridden mountains that gave you 3.5- to 4-minute runs.”

Part paragliding, part downhill skiing, speedriding originated in France’s Chamonix area more than a decade ago, through pioneers like Francois Bon and Antoine Montant. Though there are mountains in Europe that offer instruction, the sport has a high barrier of entry, and the best riders are accomplished skydivers and wingsuit flyers.

“When the parachute is over your head, you feel like a superhero skier.”  

jon devore

Alaska native Jon DeVore had always dreamed of skiing the area.   

They spent the week and a half leading up to the Rowel attempting “smaller stuff” on nearby mountains at lower elevations. “And by smaller stuff I mean nobody else would’ve gotten on there,” says Scott Serfas, the photographer along for the mission. (A documentary on the trip, The Unrideables, is available on iTunes in February.) “Jon is pointing out faces that aren’t skiable.”

The lines they picked were carefully dissected with each pass of the plane and study of the map. The best runs are the ones that go to plan, where the riders have enough speed to clear big gaps and skirt crevasses, and where the wing stays inflated the entire way.

“Most of [the speedriding] I’ve done is in a controlled environment. If you don’t have enough speed by that tree, you stop,” says DeVore. “Here, if you don’t have the speed, you’re going to fall into a big ice cave. There was a little more at stake.”

Speedriding

You felt like you were in an alleyway in New York,” said DeVore of the 40-foot ice blocks they had to navigate down the Rowel.

The native Alaskan had a close call when his canopy collapsed trying to clear a large gap on an earlier run, and Farrington crash-landed a few times. But the Rowel went smoothly. “When the parachute is over your head, you feel like a superhero skier, and you’re doing stuff that’s just not normally possible,” says DeVore. “The feeling—I wish I had the words to tell you. It’s complete freedom on a mountain.”

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02 2015 The Red Bulletin

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