Words: Walter Wood
Walter Wood has been a part of the freeski community for years. As both a competitor, advertiser and fan, he’s forged a unique perspective and love for the game. FREESKIER is proud to feature this cut from his time at Jib League Copper this winter. Check out the full edit and a few words from Wood below.
Freeskiing didn’t hook us because of podiums, perfect runs, or trying to go viral. It grabbed us because it made us feel something. Not for medals. Not for likes. Not for some coach holding a clipboard on the sideline. Freeskiing caught us by the heart—and Jib League is bringing that feeling back.
Because here’s the truth: we all fall in love with freeskiing for the same reason—something or someone strikes a deep nerve within us. But it’s not until we realize we’re not alone in that feeling by discovering community that our obsession truly takes root.
For me, it was watching “Skiing’s Last Stand” on VHS as a toddler while my parents argued in the next room. Even now, I still return to those jittery 16mm frames and name tag title cards in my memory to calm my anxiety. I won the movie from a slopestyle competition I had forerun at Berthoud Pass—the mountain where my parents worked as ski patrollers, and, coincidentally, the site of Tanner Hall’s first slopestyle appearance. That moment lit the spark for a dream I would later credit for nearly every opportunity in my life. From listing ‘X Games Competitor’ on job applications to waking up each morning to my Spotify playlist fittingly titled “Sessions 1242”, freeskiing has shaped nearly everything about who I am.
When I showed up at Jib League, the first thing I noticed was Ferdi playing tracks from Poor Boyz Productions’ “Happy Dayz,” Kya Bamba from the “Candide Kamera” films, and Cali P from Iberg’s classics. My heart honestly fluttered. It felt like home—but I still hesitated, retreating into my neck gaiter like the social recluse I’ve always been. I’m shy at heart.
From YouTube:
A few laps with Torm, B-Dan, Wyatt, Simon, Rylie and friends during Jib League’s second stop of 2025 at Woodward Copper. Shot and edited through the lens of one of freeskiing’s finest, Walter Wood.
Skiers: Tormod Frostad, Daniel Bacher, Wyatt Dorman, Simon Miller, Rylie Warnick
Film, Edit, Sound & Graphic Design: Walter Wood
Jib League: James Woodsy, Øystein Bråten, Ferdinand Dahl
After spending the last few years in San Francisco—going to school, living life, and doing everything but skiing—the last thing I expected was a hug. After all that time, I felt like a stranger in my own ski boots. But there it was: the same warm embrace I felt as a kid, rewatching Mike Hornbeck after-bang like he never left the ground, slipping into my first oversized Jiberish hoodie, Siver jacket, or Fate pants. The mountain radiated with familiarity, progression, and smiles.
Between Woodsy’s infectious charisma echoing through the mic, Øystein’s disarming warmth as he gave pointers to kids, and Ferdi’s calm energy as he approached a daunting feature with awe-inspiring creativity—it felt like I was four again, starstruck as Tanner Hall walked past with his Rossignol Scratches slung over his shoulder and gave me a high five at Berthoud Pass.
That feeling—so deep and electric—came rushing back. And if it hit me this hard, after so long away, I have no doubt Jib League is igniting that same obsessive passion in others. The same fire we all felt the first time we saw Henrik cap blunt, JP tweak mute, or TJ shoot a bow-and-arrow at the screen.
Jib League carries that thing—the intangible magic we all crave in skiing. And what makes it different is what makes it necessary.
I used to think being different was something to fix. Sponsors would ask for one more spin so FIS would give me a pat on the back. Parents would tell me to be more like that skier over there if I wanted to afford to keep skiing next season. I spent so much time trying to ski like the person in front of me, I forgot how to ski like myself. Huge mistake.
What Jib League gets right—what so many of us forget—is that difference is beautiful. They celebrate the weird. The creative. The “free” in freeskiing.
Jib League isn’t just a new competition format. It’s not a new direction. It’s the only direction that matters. It reflects the soul of freeskiing. Like the sport itself, it’s fluid—not a rulebook, but a movement. Always evolving. Always in motion. That’s what Jib League is doing: moving forward, and reminding us—along the way—why we fell in love with freeskiing in the first place.
