Pipe Dreams.
Cover images by Zack Murray
It will not take you long to figure out what the Halfpipe Guy wants. He does not play coy. He does not mince words. He does not worry about niceties. His demands are simple, and he has made them known: Build the damn halfpipe.
The halfpipe in question belongs to Whistler Blackcomb – the largest ski resort in North America – and has sat closed for four years, ungroomed and but not unloved. The guy is Liam Robinson, a Whistler local for six years. Now the operator of film production group Boobeyes, Robinson grew up snowboarding at Blue Mountain, an hour drive from his childhood home in Brampton, Ontario. He didn’t spend much time riding halfpipe growing up, and found in his first season in Whistler that he couldn’t get above the coping. But before he could fly, he was infected by the feeling of riding transition: “The most fun thing to do on a snowboard is surf the wave. By the time I could air out, I already knew this is where it’s at.”
In his first two years in Whistler, Robinson found happiness in Blackcomb’s halfpipe. But when the resort, located a two hours’ drive north of Vancouver, opened for the winter of 2019, the halfpipe did not. By the fall of 2020 it became apparent the pipe’s closure was indefinite and that Robinson would have to “take things into his own hands.” He started with direct action – digging out the pipe by hand – but ski patrol shut him down on the second day. Concerned first and foremost with just finding a pipe to ride, he momentarily moved on from Whistler Blackcomb and drove to Vancouver to try and dig out Mount Seymour’s long-closed halfpipe. There, he lasted only four hours before ski patrol intervened. With no options nearby, he recentred his focus on Whistler Blackcomb, calling, messaging, and emailing anyone he could with the resort in the months and years following. He received no response either from employees of the mountain or officially from the resort or its owner Vail Resorts. In local discussions, Robinson found various, mostly positive, responses from Whistlerites, but felt he needed to get more attention for the pipe closure. And so he went public, starting a change.org petition that garnered 600 signatures and an Instagram account, @halfpipeguy. In time, his actions garnered a small, passionate, mostly-B.C.-based following that includes several prominent pro snowboarders. Eventually an anonymous fan spray painted “Build the Halfpipe” on several road signs near Whistler. Inspired, Dinosaurs Will Die team rider Kody Yarosloski wrote the same statement on his van.
What remains most confusing to Robinson, as well as to many Whistler locals, is why exactly the pipe was closed in the first place. In the time since, “halfpipe” has been scrubbed almost entirely from Whistler Blackcomb’s website. YouTube videos and Instagram posts highlighting the resort’s “progressive” parks are devoid of pipe. When contacted – about why the pipe was closed, if it will ever reopen, and what they think about the Halfpipe Guy – both Whistler Blackcomb and Vail Resorts refused to comment.
According to the Halfpipe Guy, as well as other snowboarders, the halfpipe situation in B.C. is bleak. Down the road in Vancouver, Mt Seymour’s neighbours Grouse Mountain and Cypress Mountain Resort have no in-ground structures, and the other small resorts have no capacity for a halfpipe at all. Cypress, which hosted the 2010 Olympic halfpipe, says they never planned to keep it as it doesn’t “fit” their “demographic.” Mt Seymour stopped responding to questioning after their halfpipe closure was brought up. A five-hour drive away in the neighbouring Okanagan region, Big White Ski Resort has stopped grooming their pipes, while Silverstar Mountain Resort has filled theirs in. In 2019, Silverstar was acquired by ski resort company Powdr, which operates halfpipes at many of its resorts under its Woodward brand, and Chris Gunnarson, current president of Woodward, says exciting things are in the works at Silverstar. However, the resort says they have no plan to rebuild the pipe “at this time.”
Presently, the nearest consistently rideable pipe is a fourteen-hour drive from Vancouver in Calgary, Alberta, at Winsport, a small ski area formerly known as the Calgary Olympic Park. The pipe at Winsport also happens to be the only contest regulation halfpipe in Western Canada.
Closer to home, Robinson has hope in Grouse Mountain, a small resort that has attracted snowboarders in recent years by building progressive parks and being receptive to rider feedback. Grouse has no halfpipe structure, but they have acquiesced to another of the local snowboarders’ (and Robinson’s) fervent demands: a handle-tow. Whether there is even room at the small resort for a pipe is unknown, but Robinson says, “there’s potential for lots of transition features alongside the rope-tow.” But when asked if a rope-tow and transition features is enough, he’s unequivocal: “No. The halfpipe is the end goal.”
A larger promise for B.C. snowboarders lies at Big White, in the form of Flynn Seddon, who is both the Director of Terrain Park and Mountain Events at the resort and the president of B.C. Snowboard Association, which manages the province’s youth snowboarding. Seddon says Big White hopes to build both a 12’ minipipe and an 18’ pipe, but there are roadblocks. Despite having added snowmaking capability specifically for the minipipe, their cutter – a 12’ radius Bombardier HBG in use since the early 1990s – is beyond repair. Meanwhile, maintaining the larger pipe is contingent on building up rider demand through the smaller pipe. But despite several years of effort, Seddon has been unable to find a used cutter to buy, and the resort can’t afford the $120,000 price tag for a new one. According to Seddon, most resorts in the province won’t part with their cutter as they are being used to maintain snow tubing runs.
The Halfpipe Guy, always ready for more. Photo by Zack Murray
All of this has created a bind not just for enthusiasts like the Halfpipe Guy but for Canada Snowboard (CS), the national snowboard body. Rich Hegarty, the Major Events and Communications Specialist with CS, calls the lack of pipes one of the biggest issues facing the sport and “completely out of [CS’s] control.” Hegarty says CS, which receives its nominal funding from the Canadian government, does “everything” it can to encourage building halfpipes but they remain “a huge cost that is 100% owned by the resort… but few can afford it.” For the foreseeable future, Winsport is the only available place for Canadian athletes to train, as CS has no funding model for infrastructure development on privately owned resorts. The team is even regularly forced to train in the U.S. or Europe when the pipe in Calgary isn’t running.
That has resulted in stark outcomes, as Hegarty says most of the “clear talents'' in Canada “choose not to chase pipe.” Despite winning seventeen Olympic medals, Canada has never won a halfpipe medal. Results for similar contests like the X Games are bleak, despite Canada’s slopestyle and big air dominance. That’s not to say there aren't talented Canadian pipe snowboarders, but the results haven’t been there. Hegarty places that blame squarely on the lack of pipes.
Several prominent Whistler area snowboarders understand Robinson’s frustration. K2 Snowboards pro and Airtime Podcast host Jody Wachniak says the closure is “unfortunate” and that pipe is “beginning to feel like a lost art form.” Burton pro Mikey Ciccarelli says the whole pipe situation in Whistler “makes [him] sad.” Dinosaurs Will Die pro Darrah Reid-McLean says she’ll “be extremely disappointed” if pipe doesn’t return to Whistler, adding she “respects Liam’s passion and enthusiasm.” D.O.P.E. Industries pro Brin Alexander and Burton pro Mark Sollors, each long time Whistler locals, highlight a bigger cultural loss. Sollors says pipe “is an important aspect of snowboarding history,” adding, “Whistler isn’t the only resort to discontinue their pipe. It’s becoming more and more rare all-over North America, and especially in Canada, to have a halfpipe to ride. It’s a shame.” Alexander says that in losing halfpipes, snowboarding is losing something more: “[Halfpipe] is the true forefront of snowboarding history, and it’s sad to see that dying.”
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Though snowboarding is only a half century old, its history has already been marked by a series of different eras, each with distinctive styles. Though slopestyle, freeriding, racing, and other disciplines all have had important influences on different riders and snowboarding as a whole, it’s inarguable that halfpipe has had a key influence on the development of both freestyle snowboarding, and snowboarding’s community. Several people, from pro snowboarders to unofficial historians, have argued that if it wasn’t for halfpipes, it’s likely snowboarding, and snowboarding in Whistler, would look much different today.
Tom Sims organized the first halfpipe contest in 1983, the Snowboard World Championships at Soda Springs, California, at a time when freestyle snowboarding was only a nascent idea. The sport was extremely young, the board technology crude, and many snowboarders were focusing simply on getting down the mountain. For example, snowboarding’s most historically significant event, the US Open, was first held at Stratton, Vermont in 1982, but was limited to racing for its first several years. Halfpipe became the first freestyle contest at the Open in 1988, and the racing was gone entirely three years later. For several years afterward, halfpipe was the marquee event at the Open and other contests around the United States, becoming a central focus in the development of freestyle snowboarding. Chris Gunnarson, a legendary snowboard park builder for decades, puts it plainly: “Sorry but not a lot of people care about racing anymore… Halfpipe was the first thing that started to replace or join racing.” With the most famous snowboarders in the world like Terry Kidwell (who won the first Open halfpipe in ’88) and Craig Kelly (winner in ’89 and ’90) making their mark in halfpipes, it was there that progression became focused.
Early snowboarding was heavily influenced by skateboarding, as many early adopters had been skateboarding for years by the time they first strapped in on snow. According to Dano Pendygrasse, a Whistler-based photographer who has chronicled snowboarding since the 1980s, early features on snow, like a one-hit pipe built by Kidwell and friends in 1979 known as the Tahoe City Pipe, showed that “you could do skateboard style freestyle tricks on snowboards.” By the 90s, when snowboarding was coalescing into more distinct disciplines like freeriding, racing, and freestyle, the development of many of its new tricks was centred in halfpipes. Pendygrasse says in Whistler the “drive to ride transition that was really strong from the go.” In the early years of Whistler snowboarding the tricks that were “the height of progression” at the time – McTwists and frontside 540s – were honed in pipes, and Pendygrasse says that often years passed before new tricks were brought to the backcountry.
But halfpipe’s importance extended beyond freestyle snowboarding’s development, right to the socioeconomics of Whistler and Blackcomb, which were once two separately owned ski resorts. Pendygrass says “I was here in ‘87 when [Blackcomb] first allowed snowboarding and Whistler still didn’t. Once Whistler opened there was a bit of a competition. They wanted to do something that would draw people and had quite a few gullies that provide opportunities to make sort of a natural halfpipe.” The first halfpipe Pendygrasse remembers, located under Little Red Chair (now known as Franz’s Chair), was hand dug but progressed fast. “It was basically a gully that had hits on both sides, masquerading as a halfpipe. Eventually, Whistler built their own transition tool. They were really ahead of the game.”
Pendygrasse says halfpipe quickly became a reciprocal benefit for riders and resorts. Resorts around southern British Columbia, having trouble competing with Whistler and Blackcomb, started halfpipe contests, attracting hundreds of snowboarders at a time. In the days before terrain parks, resorts would “take a chance on a halfpipe because the real estate it takes is relatively small… and say it’s up to you guys to maintain it.” Eventually, Blackcomb built a permanent halfpipe, and once that happened, halfpipe riding became the social hub of the mountain. Pendygrasse says, “all spring long that’s where you’d go. Conditions would be crappy, but everyone would go sit in the sun and ride halfpipe all day.”
With its gravity for both progression and community, halfpipe grew into snowboarding’s foremost event both abroad and in Whistler. For more than a decade, halfpipe was the main spectacle the US Open and the X Games, and eventually became the first freestyle event at the Olympics. In Whistler, a pipe contest called the Westbeach Classic became a central feature of the scene and a major driver of the town’s fame. The first Classic was a big air contest at Cypress Mountain in 1989, but soon became an annual pipe contest held in Whistler each spring for a decade before being renamed. Pendygrasse, who exhaustively catalogued the history of the event in his book “Out West: Snowboarding, Westbeach, and a New Canadian Dream,” says the Westbeach Classic was a watershed moment for Canadian snowboarding. Not only was it a major attraction bringing snowboarders from all over the B.C., but it marked one of the first times Transworld Snowboarding, at the time the sport’s foremost magazine, profiled snowboarding in the province.
The Classic was an enormous draw for Whistler each spring, and Pendygrasse says part of its appeal was one last kick at the can each season. For the resort, to which snowboarding was still new, the contest – which eventually developed into the Whistler Ski and Snowboard Festival [WSSF] featuring live music and a range of on-hill events – sold a lot of late-season tickets. For snowboarders, Canadian and Americans found their local hills had closed for the season, and were free to come to Whistler for an unofficial end-of-season-celebration. Lifetime local Brin Alexander says some of his formative memories of growing up in Whistler were at the Classic, most notably when American Keir Dillon, at the time one of the most famous snowboarders in the world, landed a now legendary shirtless McTwist in 2001 (which by then had rebranded as the Sims World Championship). Some people speculate that if it wasn’t the Classic attracting riders like Dillon, Whistler may have never gained the clout it now holds in the world of snowboarding. Pendygrasse says “there were contests on the East Coast and other places that had cachet, but nothing really [on the west coast] had the size or prominence of the Westbeach Classic.”
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As snowboarding grew, Whistler’s halfpipes moved around the resort, one low on the mountain that opened at night (Whistler’s only memory of night riding), one famously fun summer pipe on the Blackcomb glacier, and the main pipe in the Blackcomb park, all together holding fond memories for locals. Ride Snowboards pro Beau Bishop says despite having “never been a pipe guy,” he misses having them to ride. Brin Alexander says he grew up riding a Blackcomb pipe that “was a staple on the mountain. The WSSF pipe contest brought thousands up the mountain to the pipe,” a sentiment echoed by renowned pro Leanne Pelosi, who says she has “great memories'' of the WSSF pipe contests. Lifetime Southwest B.C. local and LibTech pro Chris Rasman says the pipes were a formative part of his youth: “Countless evenings hiking the night pipe in my late teens after working all day. Many runs through the pipe at the end of the park on sunny days, trying to boost a little higher than your friends and learn hand plants. Sweaty sessions hiking the same pipe in the spring, and then the contests in it. Lots of good memories.”
But over time, the situation has changed. The night pipe closed years ago, summer riding at Whistler is a shell of its former self (Whistler’s long-time summer snowboard camp, Camp of Champions, closed in 2017), and both of the current in-ground structures for winter riding sit lower on the mountain than pipes of years past. The night pipe is so low on the mountain that for much of the season people pass it by riding the gondola up to the snow. Combine that with increasingly unpredictable winters driven by climate change, the operation of a pipe at Whistler Blackcomb is complicated. Dano Pendygrasse posits the night pipe never had the same appeal as the older structures, and some people have speculated that unrealized investment in the low-elevation pipe has frightened management away.
But the issues don’t stop there. Mark Sollors, a two-decade Whistler local, says of the main Blackcomb halfpipe, “the groundwork isn’t even good anymore. It’s built on a run that’s too steep, with one wall receiving direct sunlight all day and the other sitting in the shade all day. If the resort wanted to have a world class halfpipe (like it used to have twenty years ago) they would have to invest in full new summer groundwork built on a different run. If they could include a pipe within the Backcomb Park lane leading to Catskinner Chair, it would be even better since most people lap that instead of doing mid station gondola laps.”
Catskinner is the main chair servicing Blackcomb’s park, and was built as one of the first upgrades Vail completed when they bought the resort. But the chair bypasses the pipe entirely, forcing pipe enthusiasts to hike, or take a lengthy detour that involves riding down to the gondola mid-station and hoping they find an open seat. Whether the resort decided on the pipe before or after the new chair is unknown, but given how new it is, it’s safe to say there’s little hope for a route adjustment. The Halfpipe Guy says the chair’s route was a “very heated topic” of discussion at the time, and thinks that in bypassing the pipe, the resort created more impetus to close it. It’s also part of why Robinson has a second demand: adding a rope-tow to a reopened pipe.
More simply than all that, maintaining pipes is not easy. Chris Gunnarson, an expert on such things, says a halfpipe is “the most resource intensive” part of a park. He says it takes one machine to cut the pipe, another to groom the flatbottom, and numerous people to rake by hand, and “considering the volume of snow, the required maintenance, and construction time,” it may not be worth it: “Dollar for dollar or acre by acre, [halfpipe] is more costly.” Even Winsport’s Director of Outside Operations, Mike Tanner, says their pipe “wouldn’t be worth running” without all of the contests and organised training it hosts.
Flynn Seddon adds a component of artificial snow is integral, a resource that the powder heavy resorts of B.C. may not have invested in; Silverstar Mountain Resort said prohibitive snowmaking costs were the primary reason for their pipe closure. Add in the effort it takes to groom natural snow, which in Whistler usually arrives fast and heavy throughout the season, Seddon says “it’s even more complicated.”
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But the decline of halfpipes may not be a supply-side issue alone. As halfpipe riding and the halfpipes grew, it seems fewer and fewer people are able to enjoy – or even just ride – halfpipes. The discipline has changed dramatically since Gian Simmen and Nicola Thost won the first Olympic medals at the 1998 Nagano Games, and halfpipes may have been killed by their own success. The tricks have become increasingly complicated; Ayumu Hirano of Japan landed halfpipe’s first triple cork in 2022 and dominant American Chloe Kim regularly lands 1080s and switch 900s. And the pipes have grown, with contest pipes usually reaching 22 feet. Even veteran riders often find themselves unable to reach the top of the pipe, and many find themselves bored watching halfpipe contests, with the riders spinning so fast that the details of their tricks are often unidentifiable to casual viewers.
With this, the atmosphere has changed. In his book on the Westbeach Classic, Dano Pendygrasse says that in the early days of halfpipe contests, overly competitive riders were labeled “jocks,” and winners regularly downplayed successes. Now it’s not uncommon to see a rider crying with joy when they win or smashing their gear when they don’t. To many, modern halfpipe now more closely resembles traditional Olympic sports like aerials skiing or gymnastics than it does other snowboard events like banked slaloms or rail jams, with levels of athleticism completely foreign to the average person. Meanwhile, halfpipe riders disappear from public in between events, and devote much more time to private training than to community building. Kim and three-time Olympic champion Shaun White, arguably the world’s two most famous snowboarders, are notably reclusive from snowboard culture and community, and now halfpipe seems to exist solely within their realm: as a venue for Olympic athletes.
Liam Robinson, aka the Halfpipe Guy, smiling away a bail at a distinctly community-oriented event, the 2023 ECS Invitational at Mt Seymour. Photo by Chris Corbett
So, why build a halfpipe when no one can ride it? And why learn to ride one when there are none around? When I posed this to snowboarders, there was one unanimous response: the resorts are building the wrong kind of pipes. With halfpipe contests on the decline, the big, contest-ready pipes aren’t the same draw they once were. At 18+ feet high the structures aren’t exactly inviting, requiring extensive snowboard experience before someone can even reach the lip. Sadly, smaller pipes are even rarer than the big ones, possibly because most of the remaining interest in halfpipes comes from competition-level athletes. Even Winsport filled in their minipipe, a development Robinson called “very sad.” On the topic of pipe size, he adds “the 18’ pipe is scary, people don’t know what they’re doing. With a smaller pipe riding more is all you need to progress.” Flynn Seddon, as BC Snowboarding President, says the state of freestyle snowboarding in B.C is suffering, mainly because it is extremely difficult to build rider progression with 18’ or 22’ pipes only.
Almost every snowboarder I talked to was more frustrated by the long-time lack of smaller pipes in B.C. than the closure of the big ones. Jody Wachniak says, “Whistler should at least have a minipipe,” and he “hopes to see more minipipes in the future,” a response repeated by Leanne Pelosi. Yes Snowboards co-founder David Carrier-Porcheron (known colloquially as DCP), who cut his teeth in Whistler’s pipes, says “there should at least be a 14’ to 18’ pipe.” Mikey Ciccarelli says Blackcomb “needs to come back to the 13’ halfpipe, which is much easier to build and cheaper to maintain.” Even Kody Yarosloski, who drove around in a van proudly demanding a halfpipe says, “I couldn’t give a shit about the 22’ Superpipe. But if Blackcomb had a 10’ pipe and decided to shut it down? I’d be up in arms too.”
Riders may not agree on the dimensions, but it seems smaller is definitely better for snowboarding. Flynn Seddon says the “lack of a progression system” in pipes turns young riders away, and that his goal is “to grow the numbers” with the minipipe. Rich Hegarty and Canada Snowboarding agree: “15’ pipes would be a great place to start. Minipipes build skills, are way less intimidating, and cost resorts way less to maintain. If we had ten-plus of those across the country, it would be the rebirth the discipline in Canada.” But in the meantime, youth halfpipe contests, kids riding pipe recreationally, and minipipes are as few and far between in Canada as the big ones. When I asked Seddon about youth halfpipe contests in B.C., Canada’s most mountainous province, he was brief: “well, there’s none.”
Across the border in the U.S., it seems some resorts still believe in halfpipe. Places like Copper, Colorado and Mt Bachelor, Oregon operate a range of halfpipes and terrain parks which have given rise to riders like brothers Ben and Gabe Ferguson or Olympic Champion Red Gerard. Behind those specific resorts is Powdr, Chris Gunnarson’s employer. As president of Powdr’s park-building brand, Woodward, Gunnarson says they hope to build parks and pipes that provide “the most optimum experience for everyone, from people just getting into skiing and snowboarding… to people training to go to the X Games or Olympics.” He adds that despite changes to snowboarding and halfpipes, Powdr has made the “conscious decision” to operate halfpipes, as “a way to show the pinnacle of achievement.” When asked if Woodward’s pipes contribute something important to the current state snowboarding, he said it's “undeniable.”
Mike Tanner thinks Winsport is a similar leader for snowboarding in Canada, as they now host essentially all of the competitive halfpipe riding in Canada, though they are limited by their small size (Winsport is only one small hill, while Powdr owns several major resorts). Despite losing money on the pipe, Tanner says the pipe makes Winsport a “key hub for the sport… A good percentage of the national team ultimately comes out of Calgary… it makes us stronger than most in Canada as far as snowboarding and snowboard growth.”
But Gunnarson agrees that the current situation on both sides of the border is troubling: “fewer resorts are offering pipes, which means that fewer skiers and snowboarders can go and ride them, train in them, and eventually become competitors in them. So will they go the way of ski jump?”
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Whether Whistler Blackcomb – which markets itself as the preeminent resort in Canada, North America, and occasionally the world – disagrees with Gunnarson or Tanner’s sentiments, or simply doesn’t care, is hidden behind a curtain operated by Vail Resorts. Vail, a publicly traded company, bought Whistler-Blackcomb in 2016 for almost $1.4 Billion CAD and operates under a noticeable atmosphere of corporate decision making. While the decision to close the halfpipe could have come from anywhere, from park managers to the corporate board, Whistler locals are adamant that, since Vail’s arrival, the dynamics in town have shifted away from their desires.
The transition to Vail’s ownership did not go well, with prices and service issues skyrocketing almost immediately. First the resort’s app displayed Fahrenheit and inches to a community that uses Celsius and centimetres, an initial mistake that was almost funny. But over time a lot of the goodwill has worn off, issues abounding in the seven years since, with letters from angry locals are still regularly published in the local newspaper, Pique News Magazine. Complaints often charged against the resort include irregular or even dangerous snow grooming, unreliable chairlifts, reduced snowmaking, frustrating customer relations, reduced opening of alpine lifts, expensive tickets and amenities, egregious prices for subpar food, and even a consistent lack of soap in the bathrooms. Adding insult to injury, all of this comes while Whistlerites are inundated by almost daily surveys asking how Vail could improve their experience. But they aren’t alone; Vail owns over forty resorts around the world and has run up against similar criticisms almost everywhere it’s expanded.
At home and abroad, a central theme has run through many of Vail’s issues: staffing. Wages have failed to keep pace with the ever-climbing cost of living in ski towns, even leading to strikes among ski patrollers in Park City. In Washington state, staff shortages closed chairs at Stevens Pass Ski Resort, leading to raucous customer push back. Pair the lack of staff with record ticket sales post-pandemic and the management of the increasingly busy resort may seem inadequate. Halfpipes, demanding many of already stretched-thin resources, fall by the wayside.
“The most fun thing to do on a snowboard is surf the wave.” - The Halfpipe Guy. Photo by Zack Murray.
But many snowboarders don’t necessarily see it that way. Many point out bringing wages in line with Whistler’s famous cost of living would surely alleviate some pain (for their part, Vail has raised some of Whistler Blackcomb’s wages, the adequacy of which is debated regularly). Rather than logistics, what many locals are more frustrated with is Vail’s attitude. DCP says Vail is “all about the high-end clients” and that they are “losing their core demographic, the people that actually run their town,” a feeling commonly echoed in the pubs and lift lines of the Whistler area. Chris Rasman says a halfpipe is just another item on “the list of things Vail doesn’t seem to have interest in putting budget towards.”
Rasman, who grew up nearby and has ridden Whistler Blackcomb nearly all his life, says his issues with the ownership don’t stop at the pipe:
“I do believe Vail is hurting the snowboard scene. They are bleeding the culture out of Whistler. Whistler is great because of the terrain, but mainly because of the people that live here, the first-generation ski bums that run the place… That generation has been pushed out because of Vail. It seems as though decisions are made from a corporate head office, instead of by people who live here and have been a part of Whistler culture since the 80s. I might be wrong saying this, but it feels as if Vail isn’t in the business of curating the best ski and snowboard experience on the mountain. They just want to get as many people as possible to simply come to town. ”
He adds that he is not alone in his sentiments: “most of the real athletes I speak with have a bitter taste in their mouth towards the resort.”
Though Vail won’t reveal who exactly their operations cater to, one thing is certain: as a publicly traded company, Vail’s decisions cater to its own profits. When Whistler and Blackcomb were locally owned, building a halfpipe and holding events like the Westbeach Classic were done for both financial benefit and for the good they provided the community. Vail, based in Colorado and owned by shareholders around the world, is obligated instead to money above all else.
Whistler Blackcomb, snowboarding, and halfpipes exist in a money-driven world. In the short-term-profit-oriented realm of corporate decision making, Vail’s purported bias to tourists is not only likely, but rational (WB’s “peak window rate,” the price for one day when purchased at the ticket window during the Christmas holidays, increased to $299 CAD this year). Locals like Robinson are unlikely to spend more than a few thousand dollars at the resort in a whole season, and it would take enormous disruption for them to forgo buying a season pass. Meanwhile, tourists are much bigger spenders. My cousin and his family visited Whistler last winter, and I asked him about their spending on their trip. He said they spent several thousand dollars on lessons and lift-tickets in only five days, already more than doubling the cost of a season pass. Add in all the money they gave Vail for on-hill food (which my he described as “small and wildly mediocre”), and experiential products like snowmobile or dog-sled rides, a middle-class family of tourists can vastly outdo hardcore local’s yearly Vail-directed spending in just a week. And the family didn’t even stay in Vail owned lodging, which would’ve added a significant sum to Vail’s revenue from their trip. On top of all that, middle class tourism is arguably not Vail’s core demographic; by aggressively marketing its Epic Pass, which gives one unlimited access to more than forty Vail owned resorts around the world, Vail is courting high-income jetsetters who they hope will descend on Whistler and spend exorbitant sums of money in only a few days.
It's just a fact that locals like the Halfpipe Guy or even pros like Chris Rasman are not as profitable to Vail, or most ski resorts for that matter, as tourists. And, importantly, despite my cousin being a capable snowboarder, he told me that a halfpipe “was never even on their radar” as an amenity for their vacation, something that I am sure holds true for the vast majority of Whistler’s tourists. Until tourists start demanding halfpipes, until diehard locals up their spending, or until Vail abandons its profit incentive, a return to halfpipe’s glory days in Whistler may just be a pipe dream.
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Few in Whistler have held out for Vail’s shareholders to have a change of heart, but in the spring of 2023, something changed. Regardless of whether or not Vail has been listening to Liam Robinson and other local voices, a halfpipe unexpectedly returned to Whistler Blackcomb after a nearly half-decade absence in the form of a new – smaller, and possibly temporary – pipe. The new pipe was built under the Catskinner Chair, away from the old pipe, and on top of the ground (rather than actually dug into the earth as most halfpipes are, and requiring an enormous amount of snow to be pushed). A large group of Whistler’s locals, including long-time Whistler legends like Kale Stephens and Mike Michalchuk, flocked to the pipe, which remained busy for the rest of the season.
The new pipe was something of a shock. Robinson says he was “bewildered” when he first heard about it, while Darrah Reid-McLean said, “I refused to get my hopes up until I took a lap through it.” The arrival of Stephens and Michalchuk only added to the amazement on hill. Robinson says seeing the legends drop in was “surreal,” while Mikey Ciccarelli added “that was an epic day seeing those legends still get after that hard. It was so inspiring.” To many, the real highlight of the spring pipe was watching Michalchuk drop in and land his famous eponymous trick (to fakie) first try. And he did it “after not riding for like four years! So rad!” Ciccarelli added.
Kale Stephens, who has been a local legend in the Whistler area for decades says he was “stoked” when he heard, and especially so given the pipe’s small size. He says the scene around the pipe “was like going back in time. We hadn’t missed a step.” Stephens says that what the pipe really brings to Whistler is “a sense of community… It’s a hub for people to hang around.” He also feels that Whistler is missing out in not having a permanent pipe, saying recent years were “unfathomable,” asking “Where are kids supposed to train? Kids can’t afford to go to Calgary.”
Colin Jakilazek going big in the surprise 2023 minipipe. Photo by Zack Murray.
Liam Robinson says all credit for the new pipe belongs to Ty Weed – one of the most influential park builders with Whistler Blackcomb and Arena Snowparks, a BC based park building company. Weed did not respond to requests for comment, but has publicly commented on Instagram about the new pipe. In one comment, he said that the park crew “grinds to put out the best product possible with the resources we are given.” Many locals believe, or hope, the new minipipe is a trial run, and that Weed and the resort are testing the waters of rider demand before the resort takes more drastic action. Given the demand so far, things are looking good, but the situation, between the resort and the locals and between Robinson and the resort, remains tense. It will take much more than one month of a halfpipe for Vail to regain Whistler’s trust, and when asked if the pipe would return in the fall of 2023, Vail and Whistler Blackcomb again declined to comment.
Robinson says the spring pipe was a big win for riders, and says he’ll continue pushing for more from Vail. He also hopes the new halfpipe will stoke a community response and is optimistic that a wider movement will build in Whistler. He says he takes solace in looking back at the communal joy of eighties and nineties snowboarding, when a snowboarding community that gathered in halfpipes was able to influence the decisions made by ski resorts.
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But over time the hope for a community movement in the Halfpipe Guy’s wake has become complicated by Robinson himself. His efforts to expand his support and gain momentum has hit repeated self-inflicted roadblocks, including quickly making an enemy of himself with Ty Weed and other park builders. In the same Instagram comment, Weed said that Robinson is “an idiot” who has “no influence” on how “a single snowflake is pushed for Whistler Parks.” Weed continued that “if you want to get something done, get out there and contribute, sitting behind a screen is not how halfpipes get built.” Weed did not comment on Robinson’s repeated attempts to engage Whistler Blackcomb and the park crew in a dialogue, nor did he mention that Robinson was stopped by the resort when he tried to single-handedly dig out the pipe. In response to Weed, Robinson admitted he “understands how [his actions] can get annoying,” but that he is “just a vessel, spreading the word.”
The Halfpipe Guy seems to make almost as many enemies as he wins supporters, and several social media incidents highlight Robinson’s failure to expand his following beyond Whistler. Most notably, Robinson lit into Burton pro Ben Ferguson in an extended and unexpected Instagram video, his anger centred on Ferguson’s failure to mention the name of Kamui Misaka Resort, a Japanese resort that features an indoor halfpipe, in a video Ferguson and other Burton riders filmed there. In the video, Ferguson refers to the resort only as an “undisclosed location.” Whether or not Ferguson was wrong to not disclose the resort’s name, Robinson’s response probably lost more respect than it gained thanks to the unusually personal nature of his criticism. After his initial condemnation, Robinson repeatedly disparages Ferguson’s riding, saying he “doesn’t know why Burton pays this guy anymore” and that Ferguson “should just retire… no one wants to watch him snowboard anymore.”
Immediately, the Halfpipe Guy’s attack elicited a considered response from Terje Håkonsen, the legendary snowboarder whose advocacy Robinson has often cited as inspiration (Håkonsen famously refused to participate in the 1998 Olympics after the International Olympic Committee’s [IOC] chose the International Ski Federation [FIS] to govern snowboard events). Håkonsen told Robinson in the comments that the “labelling people” is not “fair or nice” and that Ferguson is not the problem driving the decline of halfpipe. Håkonsen said the issue falls not on any rider but rather on the IOC and the FIS, though he conversely goes on to say that the fact that “99% of the riders and the industry” choose to support those groups is part of the problem. In the same comment section, Burton pro Danny Davis – one of the few world-famous riders who does regularly advocate for halfpipes and transition riding, mainly through a collaboration with Woodward known as Peace Parks – responded harshly, calling Robinson’s critique “unbelievable” and telling him to “get a clue.” Robinson, who is adamant his attacks are provoking healthy discourse, replied, “I think I got one.” When asked, Davis told me that he doesn’t “really need to chat about Halfpipe Guy. He has been pretty rude to many of us in the snowboard world. I can’t see how I need to shed any light on this character in our snowboard world,” and refused to comment further on the state or future of halfpipe snowboarding.
Ben Ferguson, for his part, says Robinson’s video was “surprising” and that he’d “never really had anybody talk that much shit on me before.” Ferguson says he didn’t purposefully choose to not mention Kamui Misaka’s name and that the final cut of the video was more likely just the result of variation in the multiple takes they did for the introductory shot. Ferguson thinks Robinson was “just looking for attention” and in being so critical all Robinson has done is lost a potential ally: “I mean love riding halfpipe. I would’ve been down to have his back on his plea to get more halfpipes,” Ferguson says, “but if he’s just going to come out and not be a nice person, then I’m not going to have his back at all.” He also adds that the Halfpipe Guy needs to update his perceptions of halfpipe snowboarding: “he said that I’m ‘the face of halfpipe,’ which is outrageous. I haven’t done a halfpipe contest in the last five or six years.”
Ferguson hasn’t advocated as prominently as Håkonsen (though very few pro snowboarders have), but his restraint doesn’t appear to come from any attempt to gatekeep halfpipe snowboarding. Ferguson says he is aware of the decline of halfpipes, not just in Canada but in the U.S. as well, and that halfpipes have turned into an “elite” only feature (he also thinks minipipes could help attract more riders). He says that besides the pro-halfpipe leadership from Woodward and Powdr, blame for the lack of halfpipes falls squarely on the resorts. In Whistler, he thinks the crucial issue is Vail Resorts refusing to “put a halfpipe where there should be one.”
Robinson’s cause may be better suited to a more positive approach that leaves his personal grudges behind, but the opinion of famous Americans seems to have little effect on his behaviour. His criticism of Ferguson has continued, while he’s also focused disapproval on other prominent halfpipe riders like Australian Olympic medalist Scotty James (James did not respond to question for comment). Robinson says he has repeatedly reached out to James, who he calls “the new face of FIS,” and other famous pros before he began publicly criticizing them, getting no response at all from James and only a “short reply here or there” from Danny Davis. However, when asked if the Halfpipe Guy made any effort to reach out to him before his attack, Ben Ferguson said “not that I know of.”
The most common criticism the Halfpipe Guy receives is that all he does is complain on the internet, with one Whistler area outdoor sports journalist questioning whether real change could come from “what is essentially prolonged internet trolling.” But few critics have put forward what Robinson should be doing, given he is not a prominent, influential, or wealthy member of the snowboard elite and instead scrapes by to snowboard and live in a town with one of the highest costs of living in the world. In the world of snowboarding, it’s evident to anyone paying attention that persuasive public campaigning in favour of halfpipe snowboarding, or any criticism of the FIS lead contest dogma (besides from Terje Håkonsen, whose voice has lost much influence in recent years due to his persistent homophobia), is rare.
The best criticism of the Halfpipe Guy is perhaps that he has alienated potential allies like Ben Ferguson, who as an ultra-popular pro, has a prominent voice. But the vast majority of snowboarders on his level (and Ferguson himself) are a reticent group when it comes to advocating for much of anything; you’d be hard pressed to find an Olympic- or Natural Selection Tour-level pro-snowboarder criticize high ticket prices, poor park construction, or the institutional discrimination that is common in snowboarding. In talking to many pro snowboarders about halfpipes, I’ve begun to think that they do care deeply about equity of access, but that they just don’t see spearheading advocacy efforts as part of their job description. Nearly all of them were publicly discreet but privately passionate about halfpipes and Vail Resorts’ treatment to locals. But, importantly, Håkonsen and Danny Davis are just about the only pro snowboarders who publicly push back on the hegemony in competitive snowboarding and who campaign for the sort of equity of access that Robinson desires. And to them, two of the most historically important voices in snowboarding, the Halfpipe Guy is, at best, a nuisance.
Over recent months, it is possible Robinson’s tactics are stalling. Vail has appeared as a brick wall, and it’s unclear if Robinson has made concerted efforts to discuss halfpipes cordially with any other resorts (Robinson lives in Whistler, a two-hour drive from the next closest ski resort after Whistler Blackcomb). Over the summer, the Halfpipe Guy’s Instagram has been less active, though he still occasionally lashes out at riders like Scotty James. His most consistent action these days are his short, repetitive, and ubiquitous, Instagram comments in the vein of “build the rope-tow halfpipe.” In fact, one would be hard pressed to find any Instagram post of halfpipe snowboarding that Robinson hasn’t commented on. Todd Richards, who as a snowboarder and television personality is one of the more influential voices in the history of halfpipes, finally mentioned a rope tow in an Instagram post in what appeared to be an effort to appease the Halfpipe Guy after months of concentrated commenting. Snowboarder Magazine (a once legendary magazine publisher, which no longer publishes magazines but now alternates between reposting snowboard content produced elsewhere and unrelated headlines like “Iconic Legacies Unite: Kurt Cobain's Daughter Ties the Knot with Tony Hawk's Son” or “Watch Joe Rogan Struggle to Pronounce the Word 'Cornice' in a Recent Podcast”) has taken to mocking Robinson on social media, preliminarily anticipating about his commentary when they post about halfpipes. Snowboarder was recently acquired by a publicly traded company called The Arena Group, which has come under fire for publishing AI-generated articles and creating fake writer profiles for its other magazines
Though famous voices like Todd Richards and Snowboarder have become aware of the Halfpipe Guy, a common social media response to Robinson continues to be “who is this guy?” However, one could argue that question actually reveals more about the asker’s knowledge of Canadian snowboarding than it does about Robinson’s fame. Robinson is a popular character in Whistler and around southwest B.C., and received Instagram praise from a long list of locals including several pros such as DCP and Canadian Olympian Derek Livingston. In the spring of 2023, Robinson joined an impressive list of local cult favourites to be named the champion of photographer Evan Chandler-Soanes’s celebrated communal quarterpipe contest, the ECS Invitational. In congratulating his victory on Instagram, Darrah Reid-McLean called Robinson “everyone’s fave halfpipe enthusiast.”
It should be noted that the Halfpipe Guy rips. Backside rodeo for the ECS Invitational championship. Photo by Chris Corbett.
As time has gone on, Robinson seems to have made a concentrated effort to rekindle his love for riding pipe, rather than just talking about it, even making a summertime transpacific pilgrimage to Kamui Misaka where he had the chance to drop in with Ayumu Hirano, Kaishu Hirano, Ryo Aizawa, and other talented Japanese riders. In a post on Instagram about the trip to Japan, where halfpipes are more common and new champion halfpipe riders arise every year, Robinson seemed uncharacteristically restrained and pensive. In reflection he points to the importance of childhood exposure to adequate sporting facilities, drawing parallels between the riders who grew up at the indoor pipe and how Canada’s famous hockey culture is supported by countless indoor ice rinks. About the chance to ride with some of the most impressive halfpipe riders of this generation, he said “it was an honor.”
But he says he’s well aware of the comments that he’s misdirecting his anger at riders like Ferguson, rather than the resorts that hold the power. What newcomers to the Halfpipe Guy’s advocacy might have missed is that he had spent years trying to start a dialogue with Whistler Blackcomb and Vail Resorts before he lashed out at people like James, Ferguson, and Davis. In the meantime, he doesn’t have the resources to put on events, to build a halfpipe, or, maybe, win over ski resort management. But, despite his transgressions, he still believes he has the ability to win over snowboarders. He says that in the face of resort obstruction and obfuscation, snowboarders need to understand where the impetus for building a pipe will come from: “do you think the mountains and park builders are building these parks for themselves? No, they’re building them for the riders. Riders need to speak up more for what they want mountains and builders to build.”
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If one does want to start advocating for halfpipes, the arguments for their permanent return to British Columbia are plain. First, Canada needs to get more people riding halfpipe and, in turn, winning some pipe contests. Rich Hegarty and Canada Snowboard are adamant that more contest success in the pipe will never come without more pipe to train in. The country has excelled at slopestyle, racing, and backcountry riding, producing Olympic champions, Natural Selection Tour champions, and legendary video parts, because it has the mountains and the amenities. Riders need the terrain to get good, and they need it to win. And because of that, not a lot of Canadians win in the halfpipe.
But the benefits will also trickle down from the contest scene, as halfpipes are famous for creating talented snowboarders. Mikey Ciccarelli says he learnt a lot of his “fundamentals” riding pipe as a kid, while Darrah Reid-McLean says, “some of the most talented snowboarders out there grew up riding half pipes.” Mark Sollors says the benefit to riders is twofold, as “they’re so fun to ride, and a shortcut for new boarders to learn edge control,” while Chris Rasman says, “from many generations, 75% of [the best] have a solid half pipe foundation.”
But there’s also a more emotional benefit to halfpipes, something anyone could simply ask the elders of snowboarding’s early days about. Take the unabashed joy of a spring day in the park – warm sun, soft snow, rambunctious friends – and condense it, putting everyone and all the fun into one halfpipe instead of spread across the park or the whole mountain. Chris Gunnarson, says this extends to formal events like contests, as pipes are “spectator friendly, easy to watch, with a small footprint of space. It’s not like watching a racecourse [or slopestyle] where you can only see the bottom of the course.” Dano Pendygrasse says through history, “the pipe became the social centre of the mountain,” and, historically, halfpipes were “one of the reasons the snowboard culture was really tight… Park doesn’t replicate that, the odds of sitting next to each other waiting to drop in are less.”
Snowboarding’s greatest strength has always been community, and over its history that community has long been brought together by halfpipes. If the pipes are to remain a staple, it will take some reciprocity. The great hope is perhaps that with enough cooperation, snowboarders can make change, make enough noise that resorts have to take heed. While results in Whistler are mixed, Flynn Seddon says the beginnings of that sort of movement are already happening at Big White; despite the resort’s overwhelmingly family-focused marketing, the community has shown the resort that halfpipe is in demand. Seddon says “trust me, I get my fair share of emails and messages every year about the pipe. The biggest message is we support it, and we want to do it. If anyone can find us a machine, let me know!” He adds other resorts feel the same: “I asked if anyone knows of a small pipe machine, let me know, and they all said, ‘I’m looking for one too!’”
Where do we go from here? Photo by Zack Murray
For now, in losing halfpipes, it is clear snowboarding is losing something inherent to snowboarding. Not just its history, or an outlet for community, but an inimitable approach to the mountains. Transition riding has famously produced some of the most stylish snowboarders ever, and there is a certain understanding of movement, momentum, and style that comes from riding a halfpipe that simply isn’t replicable by other means. Watch someone who grew up on jumps do a stalefish, on any feature, transition or not. Now watch someone who grew up in the pipe do the same. One simple movement, two wildly different approaches to a pulsating, fluid, diverse work of art. Two different approaches to snowboarding.
On whether snowboarding is really losing something integral going forward, Dano Pendygrasse, a mainstay for more or less the entire history of Whistler snowboarding, offers a tempered take. Given the size of modern pipes and the complexity of contest-level pipe tricks, “halfpipe has become something almost abstract to me… I wouldn’t presuppose we need those halfpipes. I think that things change, and you can’t recreate stuff.” However, he does say a permanently open pipe might turn into a reunion for the Whistler’s old-timers and could inspire noteworthy throwback moments in the same way last spring’s minipipe did: “I have a feeling there would be a bunch of old dogs rallying up and I’d be there… You’d see really cool shit going down.” But what Pendygrasse really believes in isn’t halfpipes, resorts, or mountains. It’s snowboarding: “It should progress however it progresses. I’m really from the school of letting the generations build their own futures.” What those futures are, is for snowboarders to decide.
But in looking at the last half decade of snowboarding in Whistler, one thing is plain. Liam Robinson is by far the loudest, if not the most prominent, voice calling for the return of halfpipe in Whistler. And then suddenly one day, there was a halfpipe. It can’t be said yet if last year’s pipe means a halfpipe will return this winter, or if it does, will it persist for years to come. Kale Stephens, who has been around for a lot of changes in Whistler over the years, says the onus remains on the resort: “It would be crazy to not have it. I don’t understand how they couldn’t. They have a pipe cutter. I don’t really know though; they’ve made some weird decisions. But I always want to have a positive outlook. I believe in them! They have the power!” With more decisions waiting, it is undeniable that if Whistler has a halfpipe in the winter of 2023/24, someone will be riding it. Darrah Reid-McLean says, “we could all use a little more transition in our lives,” and that if the pipe returns she’ll be there. Meanwhile, Brin Alexander, Ben Bishop, Mikey Ciccarelli, DCP, Leanne Pelosi, Chris Rasman, Mark Sollors, Jody Wachniak, and Kody Yarosloski all say they would inevitably make their way to the pipe to drop in. But before they get there, you can bet Halfpipe Guy will be there. Robinson says “the fun you can have, the people you can meet, we’re all losing out… I’m getting older, I’m 31 now. Prime of my life, but not able to ride pipe… but when it’s back, I’ll be there.” Whatever happens – whenever it happens – he hopes you will be there too: “one day, we will have a halfpipe, with a rope-tow, it will be the new thing and people are going to love it.”
Jonathan Van Elslander is is a writer and snowboarder, as well as the editor of The Margin. Originally from Winnipeg, Manitoba, he has lived and boarded around British Columbia for the last ten years. He once got above the coping in a 22 foot halfpipe. Frontside only though.
Zack Murray is a Whistler based photographer and filmmaker originally from Leamington, Ontario. He moved west for the start of the 21/22 winter season and has been capturing moments in the coast mountains ever since. He’s an all around boarder here to share the stoke with whoever is down. You can find him on Instagram @zackmurraymedia.
Chris Corbett is a photographer based in Vancouver BC, who specializes in sport and lifestyle. Chris is originally from Liverpool, UK and moved to Canada in 2016 following his passion for capturing snowboarding. You can find him on Instagram @chris_corbett_photo.