Capeesh?

Profile and significance

Ferdinand “Ferdi” Dahl is a Norwegian freeski original whose blend of contest pedigree and culture-building has made him one of the most influential park and street skiers of his generation. Born in 1998 and raised around Oslo, he broke through on the biggest stages with multiple medals at the X Games—slopestyle bronze in 2019, slopestyle silver in 2021, and slopestyle bronze again in 2023—while stacking nine FIS World Cup podiums and two Olympic appearances, including an eighth place in slopestyle at PyeongChang 2018. Those results alone would secure his status. But Dahl’s impact extends further: he co-founded the rider-led Jib League series that reframed what a freeski “contest” could be, and he channels his design sensibility into the apparel label Capeesh Supply. The result is a rare dual footprint—elite competitor and thoughtful scene shaper—whose skiing reads clearly at full speed and whose projects elevate the wider culture.

Today, Dahl’s priorities span performance and stewardship. You’ll still see him under stadium lights at Buttermilk in Aspen during X Games week or dropping mid-winter edits from Europe and North America. You’ll also see him building spaces for others to shine, whether that’s hosting a jam-style Jib League stop with fellow founders James “Woodsy” Woods and Øystein Bråten, or releasing small-batch garments that carry Capeesh’s playful, skaterly aesthetic. He skis for Vishnu Freeski and rides with Monster Energy, a sponsor mix that mirrors his commitment to rider-run creativity and broadcast-level execution.

Competitive arc and key venues

Dahl’s contest résumé maps the modern freeski ladder. Early Europa Cup and World Cup starts led to a breakout Olympic debut at the PyeongChang 2018 Games, staged at Korea’s Phoenix Park, where he placed eighth in men’s slopestyle. World Cup consistency followed, culminating in nine podiums and back-to-back seasons ranked among the very best in slopestyle overall. In Aspen, the X Games medals arrived across four winters, validating a trick vocabulary and run composition that judges reward and fans replay.

Venue context explains why his skiing travels so well. Buttermilk rewards multi-feature flow and line design under heavy camera pressure; Phoenix Park’s Olympic stage compresses everything into immaculate takeoffs and unforgiving landings; Austria’s in-city Nordkette Skyline Park demands cadence on dense rail panels; Sweden’s Kläppen serves long spring laps where measured speed and early commitments separate a good run from a great one. As Dahl pivoted some focus toward film and rider-led events, he didn’t abandon competition; he reframed it. Jib League’s jam format—skier voting, style-forward criteria—moved the needle while keeping the difficulty and clarity that defined his World Cup and X Games success.

How they ski: what to watch for

Dahl’s skiing is a case study in readable difficulty. On rails, approaches are squared early, body position stays stacked, and lock-ins look decisive rather than dramatic. Surface swaps resolve cleanly; presses have shape instead of wobble; exits protect momentum into the next setup. On jumps, he favors measured spin speed and deep, functional grabs—safety, tail, or blunt held long enough to stabilize the axis. That early grab timing keeps shoulders quiet and landings centered, so the outrun breathes instead of becoming a last-second save. Directional variety—forward and switch, left and right—shows up without breaking cadence because every choice serves the line.

Two tells help you “read” a Dahl run in real time. First, spacing. He leaves room between moves, so each trick creates setup for the next one rather than stealing from it. Second, grab discipline. The hand finds the ski early and stays there long enough to influence rotation, not just decorate the frame. That’s why even his bigger spins look calm, and why editors can present his clips at normal speed without resorting to slow-motion rescue.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Longevity at the top level requires adaptation. After years of traveling the World Cup and major-event circuit, Dahl broadened his canvas: spring projects in the Alps, on-camera head-to-heads in SLVSH games, and the co-creation of Jib League with Woods and Bråten. The through-line is composure. Whether the setting is a single-hit scaffolding jump, a multi-feature slopestyle course, or a dense rail garden at Nordkette, he protects speed, commits to control inputs early, and finishes tricks with enough time to ride away clean. That reliability earns trust—from judges tallying slopestyle scores, from peers voting in jam formats, and from filmmakers who want clips that hold up after ten replays.

Influence shows up far beyond podium photos. Jib League’s format centers skiers as voters and storytellers, and its stops have become required viewing for anyone who cares how style and difficulty can coexist. Capeesh, meanwhile, exports the same ethos via apparel drops and creative videos—small teams, rider agency, humor intact. Add in years of high-profile clips and a deep library of World Cup runs archived at Olympics.com, and you have a body of work that doubles as instruction: honest speed, early commitments, centered landings.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place is the skeleton of Dahl’s skiing. Oslo’s compact hills and firm winter snow built edge honesty and quick decision-making; repeated laps discipline the feet and hands. The Alps supplied longer radii and faster in-runs, especially at Nordkette, where dense features reward timing and rail economy. Spring blocks at Kläppen layered in rhythm on creative setups and medium-to-large booters, and the annual pilgrimage to Buttermilk honed broadcast composure. On the Olympic stage at Phoenix Park, he proved those habits survive the brightest lights. Stitch those environments together and you get a toolkit that travels: protect momentum, manage spin speed with the grab, and keep the run’s shape intact from first rail to last landing.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Dahl’s current setup mirrors his philosophy. With Vishnu Freeski he rides a park-capable platform with balanced swing weight and reinforced edges that tolerate repeated rail contact without unpredictable flex. Energy and event support from Monster Energy keeps the spotlight on projects that showcase skier agency, while Capeesh Supply lets him translate taste into design. If you’re looking to borrow from his gear decisions, the lesson is category fit over model names: choose a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski, mount it so butters and presses feel natural without compromising takeoff stability, keep bases fast so cadence survives cold or salt, and tune edges to hold on steel yet soften contact points to avoid surprise bites on swaps. Equipment won’t replace timing, but the right platform makes good timing repeatable across long filming days and pressure-heavy finals.

Equally practical is how he structures a season. Early repetitions on consistent parks sharpen approach mechanics; jam-style events test composure under variable pace and crowd energy; and marquee weeks at places like Buttermilk demand the full package—rail clarity, directional variety on jumps, and airtight landings. That rhythm is a template ambitious riders can copy on the path from local edits to international relevance.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Ferdinand Dahl matters because he turns elite difficulty into clarity and then uses his platform to grow the culture around it. He owns multiple X Games medals, deep World Cup credentials, and Olympic finals experience, yet he’s just as committed to rider-run spaces like Jib League and to creative output through Capeesh. The skiing itself is easy to follow at normal speed because the mechanics are honest: early grab commitment, measured spin speed, and landings that preserve momentum for the next move. For viewers, that means segments worth replaying; for developing skiers, it offers a concrete checklist—square the approach, use the grab as a control input, finish the trick early, and let the line breathe. That combination of results, readability, and stewardship is why Ferdi sits at the center of freeski culture today, whether the backdrop is an Olympic venue, a televised course in Colorado, or a rail garden above Innsbruck.

Profile and significance

Kim Boberg is a Swedish freeski original whose influence runs well beyond podiums. Born in 1991 and raised in the rural municipality of Älvdalen, he emerged through athlete-led films and Europe’s scene-driven culture before becoming a longtime pillar of the Armada Skis team. His career threads through Field Productions segments, a standout part in Armada’s “Oil & Water,” the web series “Shred ’n Breakfast,” and an all-urban entry at the X Games Real Ski 2019 video contest. Just as important, he created the spring gathering that many pros now circle in pen: Kimbo Sessions, hosted at Kläppen, a rider-led “anti-contest” focused on creativity and flow. Across all of it, Boberg’s skiing reads clearly at full speed—calm approaches, deep functional grabs, decisive rail lock-ins, and landings that keep momentum alive.

That clarity now carries a hardware imprint. Armada launched a pro-collab park ski built around his habits—the Kimbo/Kimbo 95—and he pairs it with dependable retention from Tyrolia. Between a decade-plus of film work and a community event that sets the tone for spring sessions, Boberg has become both stylist and steward for modern freeskiing.

Competitive arc and key venues

Boberg’s résumé favors films and culture-first gatherings, but he still took his turn under the broadcast lights. His Real Ski 2019 part—shot primarily on Scandinavian architecture—showed the same method he’s known for in longer edits: early commitments, obstacle-spanning tricks, and enough space between moves that viewers can follow the story without slow-motion. The more enduring competitive “format,” though, is Kimbo Sessions at Kläppen. Since the mid-2010s it has evolved into a weeklong lab where the world’s top riders experiment on a custom park at golden-hour pace, an approach that inspired similar jam-style showcases elsewhere. Even in years when snowpack forces changes, the concept remains a benchmark for how rider-run events can spotlight progression without a heat sheet.

Venue context explains the feel of his skiing. Kläppen’s snowpark is dense with options and tuned for rhythm rather than spectacle, which rewards patient takeoffs and tidy exits. Scandinavian street spots—Stockholm, Östersund, and beyond—compress decision-making into short in-runs and quick outruns. Those places built habits that travel: Boberg’s line design works whether the background is a city staircase or a sun-softened rail garden at a spring session.

How they ski: what to watch for

Boberg skis with deliberate economy and musical timing. On rails, approaches square up early, shoulders stay stacked, and lock-ins look committed rather than theatrical. Surface swaps resolve completely; presses carry visible shape; exits protect speed so the next feature arrives naturally. On jumps, he manages spin speed with deep, stabilizing grabs—safety, tail, or blunt depending on axis—arriving early enough to calm rotation and keep the landing centered over the feet. Directional variety is built-in—forward and switch, left and right—but never disrupts cadence because each trick serves the line rather than a checklist.

If you’re trying to “read” a Boberg clip in real time, track two cues. First, spacing: he leaves room between moves so each trick sets angle and speed for the next, turning a full run into a sentence instead of word salad. Second, grab discipline: hands find the ski early and stay long enough to influence rotation, not just decorate the frame. Those details explain why heavy spins look unhurried and why editors can present his footage at normal speed.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Street and spring filming are process-heavy—shovel and salt, rebuilds after busts, and the judgment to walk away when conditions won’t hold. Boberg leans into that rhythm. Field Productions features and Armada projects like “Oil & Water” captured his patience and trick math; later pieces such as “Butterfly” distilled years of Kimbo Sessions clips and Real Ski shots into a cohesive portrait. The influence radiates through the formats he favors. Kimbo Sessions turned a private spring shoot into a shared, rider-first canvas; The Bunch’s films reframed progression as story rather than stunt. Younger skiers study his early grab timing, obstacle-spanning choices, and the way small, on-purpose speed checks never spill into landings.

Because the message is practical, it spreads. Resorts reference the Kimbo template when shaping flowy late-season parks; brands point to his segments when they talk about predictable swing weight and edge life; and coaches use his runs to teach momentum protection and centered finishes. Boberg’s legacy is as much about how to build and share skiing as it is about what tricks to do.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place is the skeleton of Boberg’s skiing. Älvdalen’s proximity to Kläppen supplied years of repetition on firm mornings and slushy afternoons, a daily cycle that demands honest edge angles and patient takeoffs. Scandinavian cities added the urban syllabus—tight approaches, quick redirects, and runouts that punish sloppy speed checks. When The Bunch pulled projects farther afield, those habits traveled intact: protect momentum, finish movements early, and let the line keep its shape from first feature to last landing.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Boberg’s setup mirrors his priorities. The Armada Kimbo is a park-focused design with a buttery flex for presses, a full-wrap edge for durability on steel, and a tail insert that keeps response predictable under load—features that turn technique into repeatable results on rails and medium booters. Bindings from Tyrolia provide trustworthy retention and stomp feel on mixed surfaces. For skiers translating this into their own kit, think category fit over model names: choose a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski and mount it so butters feel natural without sacrificing takeoff stability; keep bases fast so cadence doesn’t depend on perfect weather; and tune edges to hold on steel while softening contact points to avoid surprise bites on swaps.

There’s a process lesson too. Build lines around momentum, not spin count. Treat the grab as a control input rather than ornament. Finish tricks early enough to ride away centered with time to set the next move. Those habits make Boberg’s skiing readable at full speed and give progressing riders a blueprint they can actually copy.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Kim Boberg matters because he fused elite street-and-park difficulty with a community platform that keeps the sport honest. The films prove the point; the Kimbo Sessions tradition spreads it. For viewers, his segments and spring laps are endlessly rewatchable because the decisions are clear and the execution is calm. For skiers trying to level up, the takeaways are concrete: square the approach, use the grab to stabilize the axis, leave every feature with speed, and design the run so it reads like a story. That’s the Boberg blueprint—from Älvdalen to Kläppen and into every park where style doubles as technique.