(Portion of the crew enjoying nature's bliss. Photo: Tall T Dan)
Each year dozens of talented skiers are invited out Mt. Hood, Oregon for the West Coast Sessions. These skiers get after it for five days, throwing down and catching up with friendís whose skiing has taken them to winter homes different than their own. This article is not about those skiers.
This is about the limited number of addicts that come here when their home mountains have closed in an effort to continue chasing that feeling. Those people that sacrifice health, relationships, hygiene and money just to slide a bit longer. Camping at an undisclosed location in the Mt. Hood National Forest, from now on referred to as The Graveyard, youíll find a crew that remains long after the final shot on the WCS jump has been captured.
(Tarp City built on site of The Graveyard in an effort to survive the rains. Photo: Liam McKinley)
Gathering from all corners of the US (except the Southeast), The Graveyard Crew is a diverse group united by their shared passions of being dirty, smoking doobies, smelling like campfire and skiing. They fearlessly camp upon haunted burial grounds because only a location such as that would be able to keep away the posers, and if that isnít enough then the musty vibes are sure to scare off any wannabe chump that ainít really Ďbout dat life.
(Most of the Graveyard Crew posing for a picture to send to their madres for Mother's Day Photo: Matt Heffernan)
This year I am fortunate enough to be welcomed into the Graveyard, gratefully accepting a space made available because some crewmembers of years past were unable to return for psychiatric reasons. Ten days into this and I can, without a shred of uncertainty, attest to two truths. The first truth being that inexplicable occurrences occur inexplicably in The Graveyard. The second truth being that this group of snowsport enthusiasts fuckiní slay on many levels.
Full story and video coming in early June after Timberline tells us to go home.