The Snowboarder's Journal - frequency 17.1
CONNECTIVE TISSUE: Elena Hight and the Joy of It All
Words: Colin Wiseman 2019-09-23 14:17:43
Elena Hight has a seat at snowboarding’s head table. Travis Rice, Jeremy Jones, Jamie Anderson, Danny Davis—they’re all down with Elena.
Indeed, Elena’s been rolling with the elite since she was a teenager. Her path to prominence began with a surprise appearance at the 2006 Olympics at the age of 16, which led to Vancouver 2010, then regular spots on the podium at global halfpipe events. She picked up support from nonendemic brands—Toyota, GoPro, Clif Bar and the like—alongside backing from industry heavies such as Volcom and Smith Optics. Even now, with her contest days officially over, Elena’s social media reads #sponsored and features strategic branded content on the regular.
Despite Elena’s contest-kid career trajectory, she didn’t come from money. Her dad Mike, a ski bum, worked the night shift in South Lake Tahoe, CA so he could enjoy days on-slope with Elena and her younger brother, Mika. Elena made a name for herself at a young age through contest results, earning coaching, a travel budget and the like through sponsorship. She sees snowboarding as a metaphor for life, and snowboarding is the life she chose as a preteen.
Regardless of venue, Elena’s riding has always been about progression. In 2013, she became the first person (male or female) to land a double backside alley-oop rodeo in a pipe contest, earning her second place at X Games Aspen. She won the event in 2017, finally reaching the top of the sport. Shortly thereafter, she bailed on contests to pursue fall-line dreams. This March, near the end of her first full season spent in steep terrain, Elena became the first woman to tag Tahoe’s infamous Grizzly Spine, initially ridden by Jeremy Jones and seen on the cover of Standard Films’ Paradox (2005). It’s a serious line, with a few hundred feet of airy exposure, and a landmark descent in Elena’s growth as a true backcountry charger.
Elena’s been a fast study when it comes to lines of consequence. Perhaps it’s because she’s always ridden the whole mountain, even when she was chasing podiums. Perhaps it’s because she built a strong work ethic from her humble beginnings. And perhaps it’s a matter of focus—of calm concentration and mental fortitude leading toward lofty goals. Now 30 years old, Elena’s embedded in a two-year film project with Teton Gravity Research, leveraging big brand support to set an example for the next generation of snowboarders.
The Snowboarder’s Journal: What compelled you to produce this
movie project?
Elena Hight: I’ve spent over half my life in the snowboard industry. I started competing professionally when I was 13 and the contest scene really shaped who I am. Over the past six years, I began dabbling in filming and really stepping outside my comfort zone—I was always intrigued with it, but never jumped fully into it because I was still super excited about competing.
As I started planning to make the transition from contests into filming, I really wanted to do it with a purpose—do more than just go out and film a video part. Part of what lost its luster about competing was its selfishness. Not selfishness in a bad way—I think competing elevates everyone helping you achieve this dream—but at the end of the day, it’s really all about you achieving your dream.
I wanted to do something that might be able to touch people in a way that lasts longer than any contest result or three-minute clip. I want to be able to tell stories that inspire people to be their best person. How can I raise awareness about conservation, personal empowerment, equality and pushing the limits through this platform that I have built? How can I do that while living, pursuing my passion in an authentic way?
It’s really easy to say, “You should go protect the environment,” or “Let’s get inspired about following your dreams,” or “Step outside your comfort zone,” but when I see someone actually doing that and living it in a way that is really authentic, what they’re doing or saying has more depth and meaning. So, with that in mind, I asked how I could team up with other people that have a similar vision—who like to tell stories, who love snowboarding and the outdoors, and want to inspire people—and it kind of all came together with TGR.
How do you maintain authenticity considering the scale of your project? It can be hard to do when you’re operating in this world of RED cameras and global travel.
Honestly, I don’t have all the answers yet. It’s one of the things where we get these opportunities in life, no matter who you are or what you do, where you step out of your comfort zone and accept this huge chance of failure. There’s a big chance that I could make a fool out of myself, but for me, with this film, I have to try. Having that connective tissue is going to require the movie to be really heartfelt. The first step toward that is surrounding myself with people who are super experienced, who have really good ideas, who I really look up to, and by listening and observing I can learn a lot. Then I can take that and try to formulate something that is true to my own vision.
What’s the message of the film?
As snowboarders, we innately seek out unique moments that give us the opportunity to push our potential and leave our mark on the sport. These moments leave behind a footprint for the future generation to follow and push past. We can continue to grow upon the stories and successes of others to defy the odds of what we once thought impossible. There’s this element of human growth and development that parallels our growth as snowboarders that I find intriguing and inspiring on so many levels. Ultimately, I want to tell the story of growth, how we as snowboarders and humans are capable of so much more than we know.
As a snowboarder you’ve got a unique origin story—you were born in Hawaii?
I am originally from Kauai, HI. My family lived there until I was 6 and then we relocated to the mountains—we jumped around a little bit but ended up in Tahoe and I still live there. I grew up in South Lake Tahoe. Now, I live in Incline Village on the north end of the lake. My dad [Mike] is an avid surfer—he moved to Hawaii from Long Beach [CA] when he was 19 to surf. He’d leave the islands to spend a couple months in the mountains every year. He met Mom [Myra] there—she’d come from Los Angeles. When we moved to the mountains, the first thing he did was teach our whole family how to snowboard. He’s a free spirit who loves board sports, loves the outdoors, and he passed that on to me at a young age. He worked nights at this condo complex doing security and odd jobs, handyman stuff, so he could ride during the day. We would go snowboarding after school and every weekend together. I caught on super quick and started doing USASA events when I was 7-years-old. It took off from there.
Which mountain were you at first?
I grew up riding Heavenly. There used to be a snowboard team there called the Heavenly Foundation. We would ride a lot of Kirkwood, a little bit of Sierra[-at-Tahoe]. Kirkwood was my dad’s favorite place—it used to be a mom-and-pop resort—and it has these gullies. I’d follow him down there as a kid making surfy turns… those memories have a special place in my heart.
What did your mom do?
My mom was in real estate and now she works for a tech company. My parents separated when we moved to the mountains, but they lived close, super amicable. Mom’s into the outdoors too, and we still ride together once a year—she rips for not getting out there very often.
Growing up, snowboarding was our family thing. We would all go to the mountain, but I was a really, really competitive kid. The USASA events kept us busy.
How did your parents pull it off financially?
It took a lot to get us to all the contests, but I got a flow sponsorship from Burton when I was very young, too. My family put my snowboarding first. I was very lucky. I got my first paid contract when I was 15, and it was a game changer for us. My parents gave up so much for me to pursue my dream. But I think they understood; Dad had competed in surfing—he grew up with legends like Gerry Lopez and understood how I could build an amazing life through board sports.
Were you starting to have national success then?
My first big success was in 2002-2003. I entered a Grand Prix, got third place and got invited to the X Games. The following season, I got multiple podiums and was invited to be on the U.S. Snowboard Team, and it took off from there. The team helped financially, and I had people looking out for me so Mom could stay home, take care of my brother and work. Then I went to the Olympics at 16, so it was a quick upward spiral.
That was Torino in 2006. Who was looking out for you? And how
well were they doing it?
Snowboarding’s changed a lot since then. Things were a lot wilder and less serious. There was a group of us coming up within the sport —Kevin Pearce, Danny Davis, Louie Vito and Hannah Teter were all a little bit older than me, but we were all really determined to make it in the snowboard scene. We looked out for each other, pushed each other and built lifelong friendships along the way. I was also on the U.S. team with Kelly Clark, Gretchen Bleiler, Tricia Burns, Danny Kass, Andy Finch, Steve Fisher, and Ross Powers. They were all at least eight years older than me and they were my idols. I had a lot of loose reign being on the road with them, but much like older siblings, they made sure I wasn’t going too crazy, took care of me when I got homesick, and included me in everything. Those first couple years shaped who I am as a person in so many ways.
Which one of them gave you your first beer?
It was a combination of the entire crew [laughs]. The scene was loose—those were the days where people still drank before events. They were sneaking me into bars and doing stuff we probably shouldn’t have been doing, but at the same time looking out for me. Danny might’ve handed me a couple beers.
You’re 16 and going to the Olympics. How did that play on you mentally?
I was such an underdog, no one even thought I was going to make the team, so going into it I had nothing to lose. I qualified for the U.S. in second, like, “Sweet, I’ve always wanted to go to the Olympics, dream come true,” and I don’t think I had the mental clarity to understand what that really meant, that it was just the beginning. Then walking into opening ceremonies with everyone I was like, “Oh, fuck. What am I doing here?”
I got super overwhelmed—“I’m here for my country,” and all these expectations and pressures that I had never thought about before. I ended up sixth, which was pretty good, considering. That was when snowboarding went from being a passion to a job for me, which is a funny thing to think about when you’re 16. I got back from that experience dazed and drained, thinking, “I just want to snowboard.” I’d been so driven to succeed in snowboarding, and the path I had been shown to achieve that was through competing, and I was good at it. But once I got to the other end of that rope, it was my reprieve to just go ride the mountain again. It was a segue into how I’ve approached the rest of my career.
Shortly after that, Burton put me on the global team, and I went freeriding all season with [photographer] Chris Owen and some of the best women riders in the industry. I did some contests, but they were supportive of me expanding my riding and branching out. It was when I fell in love with the discovery and the adventure of what it takes to really create the shots I grew up looking at in the mags—it’s so different than competing.
Were you stepping into the backcountry at that point?
A little bit, but mostly park and on-resort powder riding, maybe ducking a few ropes. Then I spent the next seven years competing full-time again. I went to the Vancouver Olympics in 2010, where I got 10th, which was a huge disappointment.
You’re expecting to move up from your last result…
I wasn’t winning all the time—Kelly [Clark] and Gretchen [Bleiler] were at the top—but I really felt like I had a chance to podium. The conditions were a big letdown, but that’s part of our sport—it happens in contests, it happens in the backcountry, it happens to the average snowboarder who books a trip and is like, “Sweet! I’m gonna go ride powder,” and then there’s no powder. So, it’s part of it, but it’s easy to get frustrated.
How do you deal with that mentally?
It’s been a lifelong lesson for me. I’ve had a lot of big letdowns as far as competition goes. You work so hard preparing for something and put so much energy and effort into it, and it almost turns into this love affair. When you fail, it’s heartbreaking, like a breakup. But if you win, it fades, and if you lose, it fades. My biggest lesson over the years of having these big peaks and valleys in my career has been that you always have to come back to the simplicity of enjoying the moment. You have to remember why you are on your snowboard, the joy of it all.
Then you didn’t make the Sochi Olympics in 2014.
Going into Sochi, I was so determined that I was gonna podium there. I had all these plans and goals for what I was going to be able to do afterward. I felt like I needed to prove myself on the competitive side before I went to the backcountry to film—I felt like I had to earn that by getting an Olympic medal, even though my heart has always been in the mountains. I had so much pressure on myself and I did so poorly. I landed maybe two runs in all the qualifying events and completely blew out, didn’t even come close to qualifying.
Why did you feel an Olympic podium was necessary?
It was an unfinished goal. I didn’t want to walk away from it and regret that decision. When I didn’t put it together, my instant reaction was like, “All right, well, I better go ride some powder! Because that’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time.”
Hana [Beaman] brought me on a backcountry trip to Montana. It was my first time walking around in snowshoes. I was distressed, but Hana helped. She had already stepped away from competing, then decided to go for those Olympics and didn’t make it either. She was bummed when she didn’t make the Olympics, but she immediately was like, “Cool, I’m gonna go enjoy this trip, you should come.”
And I was like, “Are we shooting? What are we trying to accomplish?” All these things. She was making a webisode series and said, “We’re just gonna go have fun. And if we don’t feel like snowboarding one day, we’re not gonna snowboard.”
She inspired me to be super present and content with the decisions I make. She makes the best of each situation and every day, really.
But you still weren’t done competing?
I did a few trips with Hana, then Volcom took me on some trips with Jamie Lynn and Gigi [Rüf]. But I still felt connected to competing and really loved my community there. I spent one year truly focused on it again in 2017 and I ended up winning X Games and getting second at the U.S. Open. That got me involved in trying to go to the Olympics again, but I think my heart was pretty sideways.
Everything happens for a reason and this past season more than ever, I realized that. I’d had this dream of spending more time in the backcountry for so long, but didn’t know how to achieve it. I knew that I felt like my best person when I’m in the mountains, that I could grow a lot there. I knew I could take everything I’ve learned in the past 15 years and put it to use in something that is totally different and challenges me in a new way. But I didn’t know how I was going to do that.
After missing the 2018 Olympics, I ended up going to Japan to ride some powder, which saved my soul. Then, Jeremy Jones called me and was like, “Hey! Do you want to go on this camping trip with me?”
I’d never wanted to go winter camping ever before, but I’d done some stuff with Jeremy at the start of the year and he’d said, “We should get out once the Olympic craziness is over—it will be good for you to get out into the mountains.”
So, I was in. He was like, “Just get a good sleeping bag and a good backpack.”
I’m like, “OK? That’s it? That’s all I need?”
Then we went and walked across the Sierras, literally, from east to west and filmed Ode to Muir (2018).
That’s a pretty big commitment for your first winter camp. Was that experience empowering?
Going into it, I was super nervous. Jeremy is a beast in the mountains and so experienced in the backcountry. I had spent five days total on my splitboard before the trip. I knew it would be a challenge, but it was enlightening. Nature really worked its magic on me. Anyone who has spent multiple days disconnected from society will tell you about the clarity that you get; the overall presence that you feel after a few days in the mountains is unlike anything else. And I had these questions running through my head: What am I gonna do next? How am I going to continue my career? How am I going to keep snowboarding at this level?
I thought I’d go on this walk and fix all the problems. On the last day, as we were leaving, I realized that I didn’t think about anything the whole time I was out there. It was the most refreshing feeling and it was completely unintentional. It was just the process of being there in the moment and being like, “How can we make the best of today?” rather than worrying about the past or the future.
That presence—whether deep in the mountains or on your local snowboard hill—that feeling is what snowboarding brings to a lot of people. That omnipresence and clarity made me realize the direction that I want to take my snowboarding.
We have all these external and internal pressures from society and so many things we as humans deal with. Being able to quiet that and just enjoy what’s in front of you is hard, a lot harder than it should be. To be content with where you are at in the moment is tough. When I’m in the mountains, I’m so connected to what’s in front of me. And it feels like you’re living your best life when you can do that.
Do you feel like there’s a whole bunch of growth in front of you now?
I got sponsored to compete in halfpipe events and be on TV and that’s how I made the snowboard dream come true. I was so nervous to make the jump and say to my sponsors, “I’m not going to do this anymore, but I would really love for you to support this new dream of mine. It’s totally different and I don’t really know what it looks like, but it’s going to be awesome.”
Amazingly, everyone is really psyched on me giving it my all and stepping into that new zone—I feel like there’s a whole world in front of me, another 15-year career. There’s so much to be explored, there’s so much to learn, and I can’t wait—it’s almost overwhelming, but in a good way.
Photo Caption: Elena admires her crew’s handiwork at the end of a very deep day in Yuzawa, Japan. On this day, she flew 15-plus feet onto an unseen cat track and took a knee to the face. She shook it off and simply said, “That’s why I stopped riding halfpipe,” before strapping in for another round of waist-deep turns. Photo: Colin Wiseman
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