Words: John Laing 2017-12-12 18:17:07
Outspoken from the get-go, Bryan has been known to play devil’s advocate. You may not always agree with him, but he is quick to point out the hypocrisy of traveling the world to snowboard while at the same time touting environmental responsibility. And he’s never afraid to call things as he sees them, even if his views sometimes clash with the predominant liberal ideology of the snowboard world.
Now 34-years-old, Bryan’s been at it for a decade-and-a-half. He migrated from inland SoCal to Portland, OR in 2002 and took early cues from riding Mt. Hood with Scotty Wittlake, which led to critical industry introductions. From there, he filmed with People, Mack Dawg and Videograss. He’s since ridden around the globe, whether on Alaska and British Columbia missions with Travis Rice and Quiksilver, or working closer to home on shoestring video projects like The Rascals—a Mt. Baker short produced in conjunction with Wittlake—or Drink Water’s Energy, Pathology Project and Mediocre Madness movies. Along the way, he has surrounded himself with influential riders who speak to different niches in snowboarding.
These days, Bryan’s primary mission is to follow the snow. Earlier in his career you may’ve seen him sliding rails and hitting cheese-wedges, but he’s earned the right to spend more time riding pow on his snowmobile or stepping out of a heli in northern environs. Still, he remains connected to snowboarding’s grassroots through by throwing events like the annual Drink Water Rat Race at Mt. Hood’s Timberline Lodge and Ski Area, where you’ll find heavy hitters like Jake Blauvelt and Terje Haakonsen on site to race a 45-second hell track every July.
Through a conscious focus on diversity and media presence, Bryan has built lasting relationships with strong brands like Smartwool and Quiksilver, while also earning the right to design a collaborative board line with his Drink Water partner Austin Smith for Nitro. Indeed, Bryan’s got his hand in many pots, and he’s not afraid to stir them up on occasion. Whether you agree with him or not, his is a strong voice in a sometimes-homogenous industry. He has the work ethic to make himself heard. And that’s a good thing. After all, snowboarding was built on disruptive behavior.
The Snowboarder’s Journal: Where did it all start for you?
Bryan Fox: I was born outside of San Diego in a town called Ramona to two parents who do not ski, snowboard, surf or skateboard. My mom was a first-grade teacher and my dad owned Fox’s Ramona RV, which did repairs on RVs and vans. His entrepreneurial spirit rubbed off on me, for sure. We were middle class; we lived in a small country town in a nice home and our parents provided a good life for us. My mom was born in Hawaii, so she just loved being at the beach. She would take my older brother Stephen and I—he’s two years older than me—to the beach all the time. Eventually we started body boarding little-kid style, then started surfing. It was the early ’90s and skateboarding was pretty big in San Diego, so my parents bought us skateboards. It was a pretty standard story of getting into board sports.
When I was 13, a kid I knew showed me [Mack Dawg’s] The MeltDown Project and it was mesmerizing. My life changed right there. I could draw a picture of the kid’s living room, his TV, exactly where I sat when I watched the movie—it was such a huge turning point in my life. It’s kind of embarrassing because you think that there’d be bigger decision makers I guess, but that completely altered my path. The next year a friend and I went to Mt. High. Snowboarding was easy compared to surfing or skateboarding, but it made sense, it was a perfect extension of the two. We did weekend trips with my mom a couple times, then my brother turned 16 and started driving us to Big Bear. It was three hours away, so it was still a mission. We were bad—we weren’t kid phenoms or anything. I worked at Active Ride Shop which is a snow, skate and surf shop. That helped me understand the industry. I started to get some stuff from this dude Kevin who worked at Forum [Snowboards]. A more important part of my career than getting good at a young age was figuring out how the industry worked and how [snowboarding] could be a job.
Then you moved to Portland?
My brother went to a small Liberal Arts school in Oregon, Lewis and Clark College. I came to visit him when I was 17 and it was a full pow day at Mt. Hood Meadows. To me, it was magic land. It was mind blowing to see snow-caked evergreens—it’s hard to explain coming from a desert town. It didn’t seem real and pushed me to move there.
I moved to Mt. Hood the day after I graduated high school, with Josh Mills. We lived in the parking lot at Timberline. That was the biggest turning point in my life. By fully committing to something, it turned out well. It’s good to just commit to one path. These days there are way too many influences pulling people in different directions.
Yet within snowboarding, you’ve had a wide range of experiences with different groups of riders.
I’ve been lucky that way. But the two people that helped me get in with the first film company that I worked with, NeoProto, were Scotty Wittlake and Louie Fountain. I randomly met them snowboarding at Mt. Hood. Scotty was friends with [NeoProto collaborators] Pierre Minhondo and Justin Eeles. Scotty knew I wanted to become a pro snowboarder, he knew I wanted to film a video part, and we were working construction together at the time. He talked to Justin and gave me the opportunity to film with those guys.
I worked hard—I’m not as talented at the actual act of snowboarding. I remember seeing [Jake] Blauvelt and Travis Kennedy and Pat Moore, kids that were a similar age to me, riding at Windell’s [at Timberline, OR]. They were on such a different level from me, but I wanted the same job that they had. I remember thinking, “This is gonna be a hard sell.”
So, when the opportunity came up I worked really hard to make up for my lack of skill. When I started filming with Pierre that first year, my whole entire life went away. I gave it one-thousand percent and spent all my money to make it happen. My parents were amazing too. I had a small college fund, so my brother sat my parents down and was like, “Bryan’s trying to be a pro snowboarder. I think he can be. You guys gave me five grand for college, you should give him his college fund to go toward this career that he wants to have.” My parents followed through with blind faith and gave me some cash to pay rent that winter.
Where did it go from there?
I filmed with NeoProto, which became People, then Videograss for a couple years. Working with [Joe] Carlino or Hayden [Rensch] or Justin Meyer, I was lucky to be onboard with different production companies that I really respected. I also made little films like The Rascals with Scotty and it was this super-fun and creative outlet that goes along with the act of snowboarding—I could dictate the music and the vibe and the aesthetic of a film. It gave me satisfaction when I’d talk to random people and they’d say how they had my video on repeat, knowing that I’ve created something that inspires someone else.
Then in the spring of 2012 you were standing on top of Alaskan peaks with Travis Rice. How did that shape your snowboarding?
That was fortunate. We had to shoot something for Quiksilver and he was on a middle year of his projects. We were already friends, and he brought me along to check out a couple new places. His knowledge of being in a heli and picking out terrain was next level. I’m a nerd—I’m not gung ho to do risky things. I like to ride lines that are attractive and work. He was very meticulous about the lines he wanted to ride, even though it looks crazy in the end. He would walk me through everything, he would point out long lines and break them down into chunks. That trip changed the way I looked at all terrain and truly shifted my focus.
Now that you’ve had a taste of all types of terrain, are you strictly focused on riding backcountry?
Yeah, I’m just trying to ride mountains. I’m 100 percent weather man. I’ve been lucky to have sponsors who support my mission of riding fresh snow. All I do is chase it. Fortunately, I have enough funds to go where it’s good. I like riding park and I’m not against it, it’s just that I like riding powder more.
Who do you trust the most in the backcountry?
Austin [Smith] and Curtis [Ciszek]. Those guys are two of my best friends and we’ve done a bunch of avy classes together. Both Austin and Curtis were involved with Pathology Project, Energy and Mediocre Madness. Before that, we did NeoProto and the People movies and were always traveling together. It’s been 10 or 12 years of going on trips with those dudes. I’ve spent enough time with them to know that they can handle trauma or tragedy. I know that if shit happens, they’ll both have a solid head. We all met at a young age and have been pretty aggressive about doing projects together and that’s allowed us to control our own destiny. It’s wise to surround yourself with people you can trust. You can easily get caught in an avy or break your leg, and if you can’t trust the people you are with, it’s too high of a risk given what you’re already trying to do out there. We’re definitely not those uber-pro’s. Maybe Austin is skill-wise. But I think a lot of our success is due to putting out our own content in a genuine way.
How do you stay relevant after all these years?
Being pro at 34, it feels like I’ve hit the jackpot. But I’m serious about my job. I’m accountable and respect the opportunity. I was talking to someone about missing a flight recently and I was like, “I’ve never missed a flight once in my life.” They were like, “What?’ You travel 11 months a year!”
Videos aren’t as big anymore, but content is still king. As a pro snowboarder in today’s world, I am also a content creator for my sponsors. Sometimes I’m in the content, sometimes I’m producing it, and sometimes I’m even editing it. Work ethic in snowboarding is the same for any job. I love making things and it’s really cool to share it with the world. My job is to inspire people.
You don’t drink or do drugs—are you straight edge?
I guess I am. I never drank, never did drugs, never smoked weed, never did any of it. I have no desire. It started as a response to the way my dad drank and the effect it had on him—I just figured I didn’t need that to be part of my own life. It’s not religious or anything, but alcohol and drugs just aren’t for me. Philosophically, I support legalization of drugs. [Making them illegal] is a waste of money and time and makes people think drugs are cool. I have a super-addictive personality—I’m sure if I got into drugs, I would be doing that shit every day. So I don’t.
You have a decent social media following, almost 40,000 followers on Instagram. Do you use this platform to share any type of message?
That’s tricky—It feels like everyone in snowboarding just says the same shit anyway. Obviously, we have Drink Water, which is a message in itself. But we’re not lobbying for government involvement or anything, we’re just trying to give kids a perspective of what we think is cool. More specifically, I have a really hard time promoting certain environmental legislation. I put a psycho amount of miles on my car every year. I use a shitload of jet fuel flying in both airplanes and helis. I snowmobile a ton, I go to cat operations and I eat meat. To me, it reads as pretty hypocritical when environmental messaging is used to market disposable products.
A big-name rider might have more of a voice to preach good ideas to kids who might like those ideas, and they can blossom into huge things that could change the world. I totally understand and respect that perspective, but I also think it’s hard when it feels like some of it is just completely hot air. Like how certain people have a lot of environmental messaging on their Instagram accounts, then they’re flying around the world on vacation and for their job, using all these resources.
Basically, I’m just saying practice what you preach. If you’re at a Toyota event driving trucks around on the beach for fun and “marketing,” don’t follow up that post with some “Earth Day” heartfelt bullshit. It’d be like if I was promoting Drink Water while also taking money from energy drink companies. Of course, most people can agree that promoting drinking water is a good thing, and, of course, promoting environmental awareness can also be a good thing. But there is a certain amount of hypocrisy in promoting [environmental responsibility] when it’s not something you actually practice.
Is snowboard culture one-sided in its beliefs?
I’m weirded out that our culture seems to always be promoting and supporting more government regulations and laws while the whole basis of snowboarding is to pursue life on your own terms and be free. It’s good to surround yourself with people that have different ideas and have a debate with them, I think. I’m not a Republican or a Democrat—I just look at the government as a poorly run business that people continue to shop at. When my brother interned at the White House, and then worked for the Federal Government, he was disgusted to see people milk the system and waste taxpayer dollars. So, he bailed—quit and moved back west. It was sad for me to see that, because making a difference through politics was his passion and life goal, the same way snowboarding is mine.
Why did you start Drink Water?
Drink Water started as a reaction to how big energy drinks were getting. It’s weird that these companies are now big brands and if you want to look like a pro surf, skate or snowboarder, you wear these energy drink stickers. Let alone the fact that [the energy drink companies] are selling terrible shit to kids. It seemed crazy that these companies started taking over the industry marketing-wise. [Austin Smith and I] started writing Drink Water as a joke on our boards, then Stephen basically came to us and made it all a reality and trademarked everything. With his past work at USAID [the U.S. Agency for International Development], he already saw access to clean water as a solvable global crisis. He said, “If you guys are going to be wearing shirts around saying ‘Drink Water,’ you’d kind of be jackasses to not have some back end going toward this problem.” That was really cool for Austin and I, because we didn’t really have that perspective at first—now we really care more about that than flipping off the energy drink companies.
With the Rat Race, it seems like you said, “Let’s make a hell track and get everyone killed.”
When we were diggers at High Cascade, we would build this thing right in front of our zone that was called “Hell Track.” It was a one-snowboard-wide whoop section. We would have 50 whoops and salt it until it was bulletproof ice. We would spend all day just trying to get to the end. Then we were like, “We should make this bigger, faster and longer.” The Rat Race grew out of that. I really don’t want anybody to get hurt, I just want to make it sporty enough to make everybody nervous.
And through the race you guys are giving a lot to water.org.
I’m proud that we donate money to Water.org. I don’t think we are better than anyone else because we do that. It feels good that the three of us—Stephen, Austin and I—have gotten it to where it is. The Rat Races alone have raised over $145,000, just through the snowboard community. We have a good time raising the money. We put eyeballs on Water.org to try to raise awareness for a profound problem across the world. No matter what your political views are, I think we should do what we can to positively affect other people, and this is our way of doing it, of practicing what we preach.
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