I watched my first Freeride World Tour (FWT) event in 2013 from the confines of a dilapidated dormitory room in Halifax, Nova Scotia. The weather on the maritime coast at the time was borderline apocalyptic. Heavy rain squalls pounded my unnecessarily barred window as a group of my skier friends crowded around my busted laptop and fought to waft warm, skunky odors outside as the cold air tried to fight its way in. It was a losing battle.
Since that day, I have watched many FWT events, although the location of my viewing is no longer a dorm room, my eyeballs had only ever witnessed the event from the couch. When I was invited to the FWT Kicking Horse Golden BC Pro 2024 to cover the event on behalf of SKIER Magazine, I jumped at the opportunity. I was thrilled to get the chance to travel to Kicking Horse Mountain Resort in beautiful Golden, BC, to cover this massive event. It was a no-brainer. I had to go. To experience the full essence of the true FWT—the competition, sure, but also the crowd, the culture, and the camaraderie. I owed it to a younger me, the pot-smoking, dorm-room freeride fan from 2013.
I waltzed into Golden with an unprecedented air of entitlement, like I just cracked some elusive code and got upgraded to first class from coach. For the first time, my media badge wasn’t just for show – it was my golden ticket into the Freeride World Tour’s inner circle.
As the athletes began trickling into the bib draw on the first night at Whitetooth Brewing in downtown Golden, I was surprised by the calm in the air. I had expected it to be a raucous event, but the mood was subdued. The reason for this? The conditions. Whoever drew the highest bibs would be the guinea pigs, venturing into an untested area.
The global lack of frozen precipitation led to a change in the competition venue. Ozone, the usual competition grounds, was a no-go, and the event was moved to the Terminator 1 (T1) South Face—an almost untested zone for the athletes.
The following night, the welcome banquet was hosted at the Golden Civic Centre, and I did my absolute best to collect as many drink tickets as I could while catching up with athletes, organizers, and a few lucky guests. The atmosphere in the Civic Centre was warm and inviting, with plenty of chatter about the competition venue change, the conditions of the new face, and stories of epic days in this little slice of snowy heaven.
When the doors opened to the public, young shredders from Golden got the chance to meet their heroes and have anything signed, from posters to helmets. It was interesting to see the contrast in confidence between the younger professionals and the veterans. While the young guns practiced their signatures beforehand, the vets were cool as could be—this wasn’t their first time signing the forehead of a 7-year-old kid with a smile so wide you could tell he was still missing half his teeth.
The mood shifted again on inspection day—less chatter, pure focus. I flashed my laminate (like a boss) to make the hike up to the top of the course and get a firsthand look at what the athletes would be riding the following day. Standing at the top of the venue, gazing down at the steep and perilous face, with blind takeoffs and untested snow conditions, the only thing I could think was, “Thank god I don’t have to ski this.”
I was impressed by how meticulous the athletes were in breaking down the mountain. Lines were scoped through binoculars, and obstacles were calculated by comparing pictures from the top with those from the bottom. Many riders stayed up there for hours, planning, calculating, and visualizing their one and only run for competition day.
The organizers of the FWT typically have a 5-day weather window to choose the optimal day for the event, balancing ideal conditions with safety. After poring over weather data, they determined the day following inspection would be the best within the window—and they couldn’t have picked better. Despite the brisk -20°C temperature, the sun shone brightly on the face, and spectators arrived in droves to watch their favorite skiers take on the T1 face.
As thrilling as it was to watch the T1 face get absolutely destroyed, the energy of the crowd was even more unforgettable. Around midday, the sun crested the back of the T2 face, providing the spectator area with much-needed warmth. The crowd was electric—people had traveled from across the province, the country, and even the world to cheer on their heroes, friends, and countrymen.
As the day wrapped up and the final runs were scored, it was clear: the Freeride World Tour is more than just a competition at various locations worldwide. It’s more like a roaming rodeo that celebrates chaos, courage, passion, and the pursuit of going BIG. The riders, the mountain, the crowd—it all comes together in a wild, unforgettable spectacle.
The next day, I drove home feeling violently hungover, my mind racing with thoughts of the upcoming stops on the tour—Georgia, Fieberbrunn, Verbier. For me, it was four unforgettable days, but just another stop on the Freeride World Tour.
