FLY BY A POTENT BREW ENCOUNTERS WITH CRAIG AND 24 YEARS OF SNOCON Words John Logic AT THE 2017 Mt. Baker Legendary Banked Slalom, John Logic received the Craig Kelly Thunderbird Award, given to those who have had a last-ing impact on the snowboard community in the Pacific Northwest and beyond. Logic, who owned and operated Seattle’s Snowboard Connection from 1990-2014, delivered strong words in front of a packed house during the awards ceremony. But in retrospect, he still felt he had more to say. This is Logic’s first-person story in full. “JOHN! Hey, LOGIC!” I was being yelled at from behind. “JOHN!” He sounded determined, and since I was on my first chair at Mt. Baker, I turned around. “Hey, John!” This guy, Luke, was always yelling, regardless where you were. Turns out he lost half his hearing in the army. “Hey! You might want to put your goggles on!” I looked down. Yes, I had my goggles. They were around my neck, hanging below my chin. And if the time came to wear them, I would certainly put them on. But for now, there was too much to see, too much to deal with—all this snow! It was opening day, 1990, and my first time riding in Washington state. There were pros in line (Craig Kelly, Dan Donnelly, Carter Turk, Jeff Fulton, Matt Cummins, etc.), along with me, being told by my new best friend Luke Edgar that I should put my goggles on. Why? Because it was snowing? I knew what goggles were for—I owned a snowboard shop. That day it snowed almost a foot while we rode and, yes, I had a mighty struggle with my goggles. I’d never really worn them before. I owned a pair, but, coming from Los Angeles, I’d always been able to get by with some prescription sunglasses for $39 from Frame-n-Lens in the mall—they were way more stylish. That day was my first introduction to powder, to truly fresh snow. It was exhilarating and suffocating, and I didn’t have a freaking clue what to do in it. I spent most of the day digging myself out, and when I rode a chair with Craig Kelly, I awkwardly demurred his invitation to join him on the next run: “Uhh, nah, I got to switch out this bale on my binding... good thing I have my spare parts bag...” These were the days when you had to have an entire binding broken down into parts and stashed in different pockets or—don’t judge—a fanny pack. Bales, screws, ratchets, buckles, straps, a highback, any-thing could fail and often did. By the end of the day I felt humbled and excited. What an amazing mountain, which I’d barely explored—I had a lot of learning to do. But learn what? Ride more and get better at boarding? Work more, to improve our little store in Seattle? I chose the store. I had borrowed money from my grandpa, and I was determined to pay him back. Why Seattle? I’d gone to the Swatch World Championships in Breckenridge, CO early in 1990 to see more about this sport and confer with a friend I’d made in San Francisco, Marshall Stern. Marshall ran a shop, and said my fiancée Lisa and I should do the same. He told me to buy him a ticket to Denver, and bring a notebook and a couple of pens. He’d talk, I’d write. A couple of days later I found myself at the base of Breck in an el-evator, standing alone with Craig Kelly. The Master! The OG! I stam-mered out a greeting and said I wanted to open a snowboard shop. Did he have any suggestions on where I should go? He paused for a second, tilted his head, and said, “Seattle. Seattle could use a shop.” I thanked him, went back down to the lobby, found a pay phone, and called Lisa. “Seattle! We’re moving to Seattle!” Pause. “Really? Where it rains so much?” “Yes, yes! I met Craig Kelly! He said Seattle!” That was April. We married in August, and moved in September. 034 THE SNOWBOARDER’S JOURNAL
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