ITS THAT - TRAILER

Profile and significance

Bella Bacon is a U.S. freeski original whose rail precision and creative line choices have pushed women’s park and street skiing into a new gear. Born in 2004 and raised in western New York, she logged her first laps at Holiday Valley before relocating to Utah, where Park City’s training ecosystem helped turn local edits into big-stage performances. Her breakout moment came with a silver medal in Women’s Ski Street Style at X Games Aspen 2025, a result that instantly placed her among the discipline’s most influential riders. Off the contest scaffolding, she rides for Faction Skis and is part of Harlaut Apparel’s film-driven crew culture, while her profile expanded further with a Red Bull athlete signing in 2025. Earlier, she earned a nomination to the Rookie roster of the U.S. Freeski Team, signaling federation belief in her long-term arc. The through-line is simple: Bella’s skiing reads clearly at full speed—no slow-mo required—because the tricks are clean, the grabs are held, and the run design makes sense.

Competitive arc and key venues

The backbone of Bacon’s résumé is that X Games silver from Aspen 2025, won in a street-style format that rewards real-world rail decisions and efficient speed management. Before Aspen, she built experience through U.S. development pathways and FIS starts while balancing filming blocks, then turned that mixed background into contest composure when it mattered most. As her rail game matured, she picked up repetitions at venues that shape modern park skiing: laps at Woodward Park City for high-frequency practice and air awareness; summer miles at Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood where consistent shaping supports technical progression; and East Coast tune-ups back at Holiday Valley that keep edge control honest on firm snow. Even outside pure contests, appearances in brand projects with Harlaut Apparel hardened the habits that transfer to any judged format: clean lock-ins, tidy exits, and landings that preserve momentum for the next feature.

How they ski: what to watch for

Bacon’s skiing is built around rail authority and timing. Approaches are squared early, lock-ins are precise rather than dramatic, and exits protect speed so the line never feels rushed. Watch how she mixes presses and surface swaps without burning cadence, then opens up rotations on the next hit with full-value grabs held through the arc. She’s comfortable changing stance—forward or switch—across directions, and her body position stays stacked on impact, which is why her outruns look calm even when trick difficulty climbs. On jump features, the focus is quality over volume; you’ll often see measured spin speed, clean axes, and confident grab placement used to stabilize the trick rather than decorate it. The result is footage—and contest runs—that reward a second watch because the choices are deliberate.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Bella’s rise hasn’t been linear. She has publicly discussed significant health challenges, including nervous-system conditions that required treatment, yet continued to produce watchable skiing through those stretches and then converted the work into a podium at X Games. In parallel, her filming footprint with Harlaut Apparel—notably the full-length street project “IT’S THAT” and follow-up crew edits—cemented her as a film-first stylist as much as a competitor. That duality matters. Younger riders see a pathway that doesn’t force a choice between tours and parts; brands see an athlete who can lead a shot list one month and hold her own in a judged arena the next. The cultural impact shows up in copycat lines at local parks and in a growing expectation that women’s street segments can—and should—carry dense technical content with clean execution.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains her mix of finesse and grit. Holiday Valley provided short in-runs and East Coast firmness that refine edge angles and balance. The move to Utah brought daily access to Woodward Park City, where high-frequency laps and airbags breed air awareness and repetition. Summers at Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood added the endless-season ingredient—consistent parks, reliable salt, and the chance to iterate tricks in stable conditions. When projects call for East Coast street, the habits formed on those surfaces come back: centered landings, decisive approach lines, and exits that leave room for the camera to breathe. This geographic loop—New York fundamentals, Utah reps, Oregon summer miles—shows up in the way her runs keep their shape regardless of venue.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

On the gear front, Bella rides for Faction Skis, whose freestyle line provides the symmetrical shapes, reinforced edges, and balanced flex that her rail-heavy skiing demands. Soft-goods alignment with Harlaut Apparel matches her street emphasis and crew-centric identity, while the Red Bull partnership underscores the athletic program behind the style—nutrition, recovery, and travel support that make a hydra of contests, filming, and rehab sustainable. For progressing skiers, the takeaways translate: choose a park-capable ski that feels intuitive on rails yet won’t fold on larger takeoffs; keep edges tuned for predictable surface swaps without becoming grabby; and build year-round awareness at places like Woodward Park City or Timberline Lodge before scaling to XL street-style features. Equipment enables the craft, but repeatable habits—clean lock-ins and held grabs—are what make her skiing stand out.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Bella Bacon matters because she embodies where modern freeskiing is going: a rider who can film with one of the sport’s most influential crews and then step onto the Aspen stage and earn a medal in a street-inspired format. Her runs are case studies in economy—no wasted movements, no panic scrubs—so viewers can track difficulty without a judging guide, and skiers can borrow the blueprint for their own progression. If you watch slopestyle and street skiing for clean trick shape, directional variety, and smart speed control, keep Bacon on your radar. She has already delivered an X Games silver, and the combination of U.S. Freeski Team development, Faction hardware, and Harlaut project mileage suggests there’s more to come—on film, in the streets, and wherever a well-built rail section needs to be solved.

Profile and significance

Forster Meeks is a film-first freeski rider whose name is stamped on modern street and park skiing. Raised in the Midwest and forged in the Utah scene, he built his reputation through raw, rewatchable video parts—early with Hood Crew and later as a mainstay on the ON3P Skis team. His edits (“Meekstape” among them) and segments in brand films made him a reference for readable difficulty: lock-ins that look decisive rather than dramatic, deep grabs that stabilize rotation, and landings that keep momentum alive for the next move. Off the hill, he co-founded a small wine label rooted in Napa, keeping a seasonal cadence that mirrors his skiing ethos—hands-on craft, patient repetition, and results that hold up when you look closely.

By the mid-2020s, Meeks’ profile blended marquee street projects—like appearances in Harlaut Apparel Co. films—with consistent roles in ON3P’s team movies. He isn’t chasing bibs; he is shaping how technical urban and resort-park skiing can read clearly at full speed. That blend of craft and clarity has turned him into a touchstone for progressing skiers and a reliable headliner for rider-led crews.

Competitive arc and key venues

Meeks’ milestones live on camera, not on scoreboards. Early Utah winters spent solving handrails and closeouts matured into widely shared clips and full parts with ON3P. He rolled that momentum into spring and summer laboratories at Oregon’s Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood, where consistent shaping and long seasons let ideas grow from first try to keeper. In recent years he showed up in style-forward showcases and filmed contest formats—settings where pacing, line design, and execution matter as much as spin count. The constant across these stops is the same: build the run like a sentence, not a word salad, so viewers and judges alike can read it in real time.

Place underwrites the story. Winters around Salt Lake City supply dense, unforgiving urban terrain—long kinks, tight approaches, and drop-to-flat landings that punish sloppy edge angles. Summers on the Palmer Snowfield above Timberline Lodge add repetition on reliable jumps and rails, making timing and axis control second nature. It is a two-pole calendar—Utah streets and Mount Hood laps—that explains why Meeks’ segments feel composed no matter the venue.

How they ski: what to watch for

Meeks skis with deliberate economy. On rails, approaches square up early, shoulders stay stacked, and lock-ins look committed rather than theatrical. Surface swaps finish cleanly; presses carry visible shape; exits protect speed for the next setup. On jumps, he favors measured spin speed and deep, functional grabs—safety, tail, or blunt—that calm the axis and keep landings over the feet instead of as last-second saves. Directional variety is part of the package—forward and switch, left and right—but cadence never breaks because each choice serves the line, not the stat sheet.

Two tells help you read a Meeks clip in real time. First, spacing: each trick creates room for the next one, so momentum flows instead of stalling between features. Second, grab discipline: hands find the ski early and stay long enough to influence rotation, which is why even heavier spins look unhurried. That combination makes his skiing easy to follow at normal speed and satisfying to study frame by frame.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Street missions reward patience and process—shovel and salt, rebuilds after busts, and the nerve to walk away when conditions are wrong. Meeks leans into that rhythm, which is why his segments age well. Edits from the Utah corridor and long Mount Hood summers show efficient spot prep, thoughtful trick math, and roll-aways that keep speed for what’s next. His appearances in Harlaut Apparel Co. projects reinforced the point: style can be both creative and legible if the mechanics stay honest.

Influence shows up in how younger riders copy the blueprint. They study his early grab timing, the way he finishes tricks with time to spare, and how subtle speed checks never spill into the next feature. Editors appreciate that his shots don’t need slow-motion rescue, and brands value that he translates equipment into outcomes viewers can recognize. In a culture that sometimes chases novelty, Meeks’ work argues for repeatable craft.

Geography that built the toolkit

Utah and Oregon did the heavy lifting. The winter architecture of Salt Lake City taught honest approach angles and commitment under pressure; you either bring the right speed to a kinked handrail or you pay for the misread. Summer laps at Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood supplied the other half: consistent lips, tidy radii, and day-after-day repetition that turns good ideas into habits. When Meeks travels, those habits travel with him, which is why his parts feel coherent whether the background is a city staircase or a sun-softened rail garden.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Meeks rides for ON3P Skis, including a limited-run pro topsheet that nodded to his park/street priorities. The brand’s durable, predictable platforms suit how he skis: presses need backbone, rail contact needs edge life, and takeoffs need stability when the rotation count rises. He has also turned up in Harlaut Apparel Co. projects from Harlaut Apparel, a culture-first label whose films and drops match his rider-driven approach. Off the hill, his Napa base connects to seasonal work blending craft and patience—an ethos that bleeds back into how he builds ski shots.

For skiers taking notes, treat the grab as a control input, not decoration. Mount a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski so presses feel natural without sacrificing takeoff stability. Keep edges tuned enough to hold on steel yet soften contact points to prevent surprise bites on swaps. Maintain fast bases so cadence doesn’t depend on perfect weather or salt. Equipment won’t replace timing, but it makes Meeks-style decisions repeatable across long filming days.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Forster Meeks matters because he turns difficulty into clarity and does it where most skiers actually ride—on city metal and resort parks. His clips prove that early commitments, functional grabs, and protected momentum can make heavy tricks look calm. For viewers, that means segments worth replaying; for developing riders, it’s a checklist you can apply on your next park day. In an era that often celebrates spectacle, Meeks’ work is a reminder that the best skiing reads beautifully in real time—and then holds up when you slow it down.

Profile and significance

Henrik “E-Dollo” Harlaut is one of freeskiing’s defining figures, a Swedish original whose blend of contest dominance, film culture, and scene-building has shaped how park and street skiing look and feel. A two-time Olympian for Sweden and a multi-time medalist at the X Games, he holds the all-time records for Ski golds and total Ski medals at that event. His 2013 Big Air breakthrough—landing the first nose-butter triple cork 1620 on the Aspen stage—reset expectations for what creative, controlled progression could be. Beyond podiums, Harlaut helped lead a rider-first movement through the B&E era with Phil Casabon, co-hosting the B&E Invitational in France and elevating film parts and tours that centered style as substance.

Harlaut’s brand ecosystem mirrors that identity. He rides for Armada Skis and headlines his own street-savvy label, Harlaut Apparel, while long-running support from Monster Energy has kept cameras on his projects from Scandi parks to city rails. The result is a rare dual footprint—elite competitor and cultural steward—whose skiing reads clearly at full speed and whose projects continue to influence how freeski stories are told.

Competitive arc and key venues

Harlaut’s contest résumé traces the modern ladder. He announced himself to a global audience at Aspen’s Buttermilk, where his Big Air gold and that historic nose-butter triple 16 became part of freeski lore. In the years that followed he stacked Big Air and Slopestyle medals across Aspen and Europe, and even added the newer Knuckle Huck title to underline his versatility. On the Olympic stage he represented Sweden at Sochi 2014—finishing sixth in slopestyle—and returned at PyeongChang 2018, a testament to endurance in a field where the trick list never stops evolving.

Venue context explains why his runs travel so well. Buttermilk rewards multi-feature flow and composure under heavy cameras. Oslo’s and Norway’s stadium builds prize amplitude on single hits. Spring blocks at Sweden’s Kläppen refine rhythm and variety across dense rail sections and medium-to-large booters. Olympic courses—from Sochi’s expansive build to the sculpted lines at Korea’s Phoenix Park—demand immaculate takeoffs and exact landings. Across those settings, Harlaut’s hallmark has been readability: tricks that make sense at normal speed because the inputs are functional and on time.

How they ski: what to watch for

Harlaut skis with deliberate economy and musical timing. On rails, approaches square up early, the body stays stacked, and lock-ins look decisive rather than dramatic. Surface swaps resolve cleanly; presses have visible shape; exits protect speed for what’s next. On jumps, he manages spin speed with deep, stabilizing grabs—safety, tail, blunt—arriving early enough to calm the axis and keep the hips centered over the feet. Directional variety—forward and switch, left and right—appears without breaking cadence because every move serves the line instead of a checklist.

Two cues help you “read” a Harlaut lap in real time. First, spacing: he leaves room between tricks so each one sets angle and speed for the next, a habit that makes full runs feel like sentences rather than word salad. Second, grab discipline: hands find the ski early and stay long enough to influence rotation, not just decorate the frame. That approach explains why even his biggest spins look unhurried—and why editors can present his shots at normal speed without slow-motion rescue.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Results alone would place Harlaut among the greats; his cultural work cements it. With Phil Casabon he hosted the B&E Invitational at Les Arcs, a rider-designed jam that treated slopestyle as an open canvas and set a template for today’s style-first showcases. On film, he’s produced projects that framed progression as story, from the two-year deep dive “Salute” to the wider canon built with Inspired-era collaborators. The common thread is clarity: honest speed, early commitments, centered landings. That’s why his parts age well—you can see the trick math at 1x speed—and why younger riders can copy the mechanics without needing a mega-budget build.

Harlaut’s influence also shows in how brands and events talk about skiing. He helped normalize the idea that style is not garnish but technique—grab choice that stabilizes an axis, spacing that preserves momentum, and rail decisions that protect cadence. As new disciplines and formats appear, the standard he champions remains the same: make difficulty legible, so viewers feel it the first time and still find details on the tenth watch.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place is the skeleton of Harlaut’s skiing. He moved to Åre as a kid, and the resort’s varied pistes and night laps forged edge honesty and repetition; if you want to understand the base layer, start with the discipline that Scandinavia’s firm snow demands. Spring sections at Kläppen layered in rhythm on dense features, teaching him to protect speed through quick in-runs and short outruns. The annual pilgrimage to Aspen’s Buttermilk sharpened broadcast composure, while European city builds and invitational courses rewarded creativity and line design. Stitch those environments together and you get a toolkit that travels: patient takeoffs, functional grabs, tidy exits, and runs that hold their shape from first rail to last landing.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Harlaut’s kit is built for repeatability and feel. With Armada he’s long ridden park-capable platforms tuned for pop and predictable swing weight, a setup that rewards nose-butter entries and early-grab spins. Apparel through Harlaut Apparel leans into rider-led durability and movement on long filming days, while backing from Monster Energy helps turn ambitious concepts into finished films and event moments. For skiers borrowing from his playbook, the hardware lesson is category fit over hype: choose a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski, mount it so butters and presses feel natural without sacrificing takeoff stability, keep bases fast so cadence doesn’t depend on perfect weather, and tune edges to hold on steel yet soften contact points to avoid surprise bites on swaps.

There’s a process lesson, too. Build lines around momentum. Use the grab as a control input rather than decoration. Finish tricks early enough to ride away with speed and time. Those habits are why Harlaut’s biggest moments—whether a stadium jump in Aspen or a creative rail garden at a spring session—read cleanly on camera and hold up on rewatch.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Henrik Harlaut matters because he turned elite difficulty into a language anyone can follow and then used his platform to grow the culture around it. He has the X Games medal record to satisfy the stats crowd and a film-and-event legacy that continues to pull the sport toward rider agency and style with substance. The skiing itself is readable at full speed, the choices are intentional, and the execution holds up under the brightest lights. For viewers, that means segments and finals worth replaying; for developing riders, it’s a checklist you can practice on the next lap. Protect momentum, commit early, let the spot decide the move—and make it look good because the mechanics are honest. That’s the Harlaut blueprint, and it’s why his influence runs from Åre to Aspen and across every park where skiers learn to turn hard things into clear, compelling lines.

Profile and significance

Isaac “EZ Panda” Simhon is a film-first freeski original whose style-forward approach has earned attention from Europe to North America. Born in 2000 in Cape Verde and raised in Geneva, he grew up lapping French and Swiss resorts before shifting his focus to street and park projects. A breakout came when Henrik Harlaut invited him to join the two-year movie “Salute,” which put Simhon’s relaxed precision and unmistakable flow in front of a global audience. Since then he’s doubled down on filming, appearing in rider-led projects and team edits while keeping a light competitive footprint through occasional Europa Cup appearances. The appeal is simple and durable: readable difficulty that looks effortless at normal speed.

Simhon’s identity today blends creative control with contest-tested fundamentals. He works closely with Harlaut’s crew, contributes to small-batch edits as well as full parts, and represents brands that reflect rider-led culture. Current partners include K2 Skis, Marker, Harlaut Apparel, the mate label El Tony Mate, and Swiss-based Nouch. The through-line across his output is the same whether the camera is ten meters from a city rail or perched above a spring jump: calm mechanics, early commitments, and landings that keep momentum alive.

Competitive arc and key venues

Though best known for films, Simhon’s path includes verified FIS starts and a memorable big-air appearance at the Launchpad event hosted by Les Arcs in 2021. Those bib days provided repetition on large, consequential jumps, but his real classroom has been rider-driven projects in Europe and North America. “Salute” placed him on street missions in Minnesota and creative sessions in Andorra, where he learned to translate park timing to handrails, wallrides, and tight outruns under pressure. He then featured in the Harlaut Apparel team output—“It’s That” and subsequent drops—filming across Finland, Bosnia, Austria, Stockholm, and the Pyrenees, and in 2024 he delivered a focused solo part shot in Stockholm and Andorra.

Specific venues help explain the skiing you see on camera. Early years between La Clusaz in the Aravis and the long-lap freestyle factory at LAAX built rhythm and edge honesty. Time in Andorra reinforced line design on compact, high-frequency park builds. In Switzerland, the spring lab at Pända Snowpark above Mürren offered consistent jibs and kickers to refine grab timing and presses. City work in Stockholm added the urban syllabus—short in-runs, quick redirects, and runouts that punish sloppy speed checks. The result is a toolkit that travels from resort to real-world features without losing its identity.

How they ski: what to watch for

EZ Panda skis with deliberate economy and musical timing. On rails he squares the approach early, locks in decisively, and exits with speed protected for the next setup. Surface swaps finish cleanly and presses carry visible shape instead of wobble. On jumps he favors measured spin speed and deep, functional grabs—safety, tail, or blunt depending on axis—arriving early enough to calm rotation and keep the shoulders stacked. Directional variety appears naturally, forward and switch, left and right, because every trick serves the line rather than the stat sheet.

If you’re evaluating a Simhon clip in real time, two cues stand out. First, spacing: he leaves room between moves, so each trick sets angle and cadence for the next one. Second, grab discipline: the hand finds the ski early and stays long enough to influence rotation, not just decorate the frame. That’s why his heavier spins look unhurried and why editors can run his footage at 1x speed without slow-motion rescue.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Simhon frames skiing as both craft and therapy, and that attitude shows up in the parts he chooses to make. Street shoots demand patience—shovel and salt, rebuilds after busts, and the nerve to walk away when the approach won’t hold—and his sections reward that process with clean landings and momentum that survives to the next feature. In collaborative projects, he’s a tone-setter: grips quiet, takeoffs patient, and landings finished early enough to ride out centered. Those habits make his skiing instructive for viewers who want a blueprint rather than a highlight reel.

Influence spreads through the same channels that built his name. Harlaut-led films and apparel drops give Simhon a platform that prizes style as substance, and his parts circulate widely precisely because they are legible. Younger riders copy the details—early grab commitment, subtle speed checks that don’t spill into landings, and a preference for trick choices that use an obstacle end to end. It’s a form of leadership that trades on execution, not volume.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place is the skeleton of EZ Panda’s skiing. Geneva provided proximity to the Aravis and early laps at La Clusaz, where firm winter snow and compact radii punish late commitments. Time at LAAX layered in longer lines and dense rail sections that reward cadence and clean exits. Andorra’s parks supplied repetition under variable light and quick resets between shots. Stockholm’s winter architecture taught approach discipline and quick decisions on short in-runs, while Switzerland’s Pända Snowpark refined jump timing across reliable spring setups. Put those places together and you get skiing that looks the same whether the background is a city staircase or a sun-softened rail garden.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Simhon’s kit mirrors his priorities. K2 Skis gives him a predictable, park-capable platform with balanced swing weight for early-grab, measured-spin tricks. Marker supplies dependable retention and straightforward adjustment when a spot demands multiple rebuilds. Soft goods via Harlaut Apparel fit the rider-led, film-first life—durable, mobile, and built for long days. Energy support from El Tony Mate and small-batch projects with Nouch round out a sponsor mix rooted in culture as much as function.

For skiers looking to apply the lessons, think category fit over model names. Choose a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski and mount it so presses feel natural without compromising takeoff stability. Keep bases fast so cadence doesn’t depend on perfect weather; tune edges to hold on steel yet soften contact points to prevent surprise bites on swaps. Above all, treat the grab as a control input—lock it early to stabilize the axis and land centered with speed for what comes next.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Isaac Simhon matters because he turns difficulty into clarity while keeping the vibe that drew many to freeski in the first place. His parts prove that style is technique—spacing, grabs that do work, clean exits—and that a line built on those choices reads beautifully in real time. Whether the setting is a Stockholm handrail, an Andorran park line, or a spring booter at Pända Snowpark, EZ Panda’s skiing offers a blueprint that fans love to rewatch and ambitious riders can actually copy on their next lap.

Profile and significance

Niklas Eriksson is a Swedish freeski original whose name connects two eras of the sport: the late-2000s film wave and today’s coach-driven progression culture. He broke out globally by winning Level 1’s SuperUnknown VI in 2009, then stacked memorable appearances with film crews and brands before transitioning into leadership with Sweden’s national freeski program. On snow, he blends golden-era style—presses, butters and clean rail language—with the precision you get from countless night laps in compact parks. Off snow, he helped professionalize the Swedish pathway from junior sessions to World Cup starts, while still dropping edits that feel as watchable as ever. You’ll most often see his name tied to laps at Åre’s SkiStar Snow Park and Kläppen, where the terrain rewards the economy and definition that characterize his skiing.

Competitive arc and key venues

Eriksson’s competitive résumé centers on slopestyle World Cups in the early 2010s and a start at the 2013 World Championships. Highlights include an 11th place at the 2013 World Cup in Silvaplana—home to the Corvatsch Park—plus starts that season in Sierra Nevada and qualification rounds at the Southern Hemisphere stop in Cardrona. Those results came alongside heavy filming years, a balance typical of that era’s best park skiers. As the contest landscape evolved, Eriksson found a second lane in coaching, eventually serving as head coach of Sweden’s national freeski team through spring 2024, then returning his focus toward riding, scene-building and media.

Venue-wise, the map of his career reads like a primer on where modern freeskiing is forged. Åre’s Bräcke zone and its illuminated “Garden” deliver lap volume and quick resets; Kläppen layers in dense, rebuild-heavy lines perfect for technical repetition; Cardrona’s competition course adds big-park spacing and wind calls; Corvatsch brings Swiss precision; Norway’s Myrkdalen contributes flow at speed; and U.S. projects around Park City Mountain show how his style scales to broader audiences. Together they explain the breadth of his skiing—and the coaching cues he’s known for.

How they ski: what to watch for

Eriksson skis with the kind of clarity that makes clips “replay-able.” Approaches stay tall and neutral. He sets rotation late, locks grabs early, and keeps the upper body quiet so the skis do the storytelling. On rails, look for long, decisive presses and backslides held just long enough to read, surface swaps with minimal arm swing, and exits where the shoulders stay square to preserve speed. On side hits and jumps, patience into the lip is the signature—no rushed set, just clean pop and tweaks that breathe. It’s the movement pattern that coaches love to teach because it scales from small features to XL builds.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Winning SuperUnknown in 2009 made Eriksson part of Level 1’s canon and put him on sets where style—not merely difficulty—decided what made the final cut. He later appeared in rider-led projects with Level 1 and Good Company, and turned heads with clean park pieces from Utah to Scandinavia, including Jiberish-backed park sessions in Park City. In the mid-to-late 2010s he shifted toward program building, helping Sweden’s team professionalize everything from media to training environments. After stepping away from the head-coach role in 2024, he doubled back to the roots—regular edits from Åre and Kläppen that demonstrate the same tidy mechanics that made him a reference a decade earlier. The through-line is consistency: he shows how durable fundamentals outlast trends and algorithms.

Geography that built the toolkit

Åre’s park culture taught Eriksson how to make small windows count: short run-ins, tight decks, and night sessions force exact edge placement and centered landings. Kläppen Snowpark added volume and iteration—repeating features until movement patterns become automatic. Competition stops injected big-feature timing: Cardrona for Southern Hemisphere slopestyle spacing, Silvaplana/Corvatsch for Switzerland’s precise jump shapes, and Norway’s Myrkdalen for flow under variable weather. Filming blocks around Park City Mountain connected his Scandinavian vocabulary to North American park rhythm. Each place left a fingerprint that’s visible in his skiing—and in the coaching cues he passes on.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Across his film era Eriksson featured with crew brands like Level 1 and Good Company, collaborated on apparel looks with Jiberish, and spent seasons riding park-centric skis from LINE. For skiers trying to borrow his feel, the gear lesson is simple: pick a true park ski with a balanced, medium flex you can press without folding, detune the contact points enough to reduce rail bite, and set a mount that keeps you neutral for switch landings. The bigger lesson is process. Film laps, compare shoulder alignment and hip-to-ankle stack, and treat every feature as a link in a line rather than a one-off trick—that’s how his tidy mechanics show up run after run.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Eriksson matters because he made a specific, teachable version of style visible—first in films and edits, then in national-team systems, and now again in parks where most skiers actually ride. Fans get timeless clips with high replay value. Developing riders get a blueprint for building durable slopestyle and rail technique without needing mega-resorts or perfect weather. Whether the backdrop is Åre’s Bräcke, a rebuilt line at Kläppen, a Swiss World Cup park in Silvaplana, or a classic Park City shoot, the read is the same: patient approach, early grab definition, square-shoulder exits, and the kind of flow that makes you want to take another lap.

Profile and significance

Noah Albaladejo is an Andorran freeski original whose style-first approach helped define what modern park and urban skiing looks like. He broke out in the mid-2010s with a blend of rail confidence and buttery jump control that translated as clearly in rider-judged jams as it did in polished film parts. In 2015 he won the B&E Invitational at Les Arcs and was voted European Skier of the Year by Downdays readers, a one-two that confirmed his influence beyond any single contest. Since then he has remained a reference for park flow and street precision while representing athlete-driven brands and destinations including Armada Skis, Monster Energy, Look Bindings, Harlaut Apparel, and his home resort, Grandvalira. Albaladejo’s significance lies in the way his skiing reads on camera and under lights: patient approaches, grabs that lock early, presses that hold long enough to be unmistakable, and exits that keep speed for whatever comes next.

Competitive arc and key venues

Albaladejo’s path favors rider-curated formats and film over traditional ranking sheets. His win at the B&E Invitational in 2015—taking both “Overall” and “Best Trick” on the skate-inspired setup at Les Arcs—cemented him as a peers’ pick. In 2020 he was invited to X Games Real Ski, the all-urban video contest that showcases street craft and spot choice on global broadcast. More recently, he headlined SLVSH Cup Andorra at Grandvalira, advancing to the 2024 final in front of a local crowd that knows his skiing best. Between those touchpoints he has kept a steady presence at culture-defining sessions like Kimbosessions, where the emphasis is on how well you read a park and invent lines in the moment.

The venues tied to his name explain his skiing as well as any result column. Sunset Park Peretol by Henrik Harlaut is the evening laboratory where he and friends link feature-dense laps under floodlights. The El Tarter Snowpark adds long, rhythmic lines that reward speed control and endurance. When events or shoots call, he exports the same movement vocabulary to bigger or different builds—from the sculpted parks of the Alps to the urban textures of Andorra and beyond.

How they ski: what to watch for

Albaladejo skis with economy and definition. On rails he favors locked positions—backslides and presses held just long enough to read—then exits with square shoulders so momentum carries cleanly into the next hit. Change-ups are quiet and centered, with minimal arm swing; the base stays flat through kinks because edge pressure is set early, not rescued late. On jumps and side hits, the trademark is patience into the lip and grabs established before 180 degrees, which lets tweaks breathe without throwing the body off axis. Even when the trick is complex, the approach looks calm and neutral—tall posture, hips over feet, ankles soft on impact—so the landing reads inevitable rather than survived.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Film seasons have always been part of Albaladejo’s story. He stacked memorable parts with crews and close collaborators, including projects with Henrik Harlaut—work that traveled widely and influenced how riders think about line choice, feature prep, and the value of style that ages well. The Real Ski invite in 2020 recognized that film pedigree on a broadcast stage; his SLVSH Cup runs showed the same precision translated to a live, call-and-respond format where peers set the tricks. Through it all he has remained a constant in Andorra’s scene, helping turn Grandvalira’s after-dark parks into a meeting point for European freeskiing and a proving ground for riders who want their skiing to stand up to slow-motion replays.

Geography that built the toolkit

Andorra’s terrain, weather windows, and night-skiing culture shaped Albaladejo’s habits. Peretol’s Sunset Park delivers laps on demand when the lights switch on—perfect for repetition, quick resets, and filming without the daytime rush. The long lines at El Tarter Snowpark enforce rhythm and speed control; a small mistake at the top can ripple through an entire run, which is why his clips look so composed. When travel calls, he brings that toolkit to places like Les Arcs, where the B&E park’s creative modules rewarded skiers who could hold presses and invent new approaches mid-line. Each location left a fingerprint: Andorra for evening repetition and rail craft; El Tarter for flow at speed; alpine builds for timing and wind reads.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Albaladejo’s gear choices reflect his priorities. With Armada he favors playful, press-friendly park platforms that still feel predictable at takeoff; with Look Bindings he pairs a confidence-inspiring release feel to long rail sessions; Harlaut Apparel signals the rider-run aesthetic that surrounds his projects; and Monster Energy has backed his film-first calendar for years. For skiers who want to borrow his feel, the setup lessons are straightforward: detune contact points to reduce rail bite, choose a mount close enough to center to keep landings neutral, and aim for a medium flex you can bend without folding. Equally important is the training loop his venues enable—film laps, review shoulder alignment and hip-to-ankle stack, then repeat under consistent lighting until the movements become automatic.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about Noah Albaladejo because his skiing is both distinctive and teachable. The clips are replayable for the same reason coaches love showing them: tall, calm approaches; early grab definition; square-shoulder exits; and a flow that turns a park into a single, connected sentence. For developing riders, his blueprint proves you don’t need the biggest jumps to progress—you need deliberate reps, a clear plan for each feature, and the patience to let technique do the work. Whether the backdrop is a nighttime lap at Peretol, a long line through El Tarter, or a film trip to a classic alpine park, the read is the same: precise, stylish freeskiing that rewards attention to detail.

Profile and significance

Valentin Morel is a Swiss freeski rider from the Fribourg region whose lane bridges World Cup slopestyle starts and film-first creativity. A member of the Swiss national setup, he has earned World Cup points and built a parallel identity as a style-forward editor and collaborator, from glacier training cuts to rider-led short films. His sponsors tell the story as well as any résumé: skis from Armada, bindings from Tyrolia, helmets and goggles from Giro, and apparel with Harlaut Apparel Co.. That mix—contest credibility plus core-scene backing—explains why park riders and street-focused viewers alike slow his clips down to study the details. Morel’s significance lies in clarity: he skis in a way that reads cleanly on camera and scales from World Cup venues to the parks most people actually lap.

Competitive arc and key venues

Morel’s public track record is anchored in slopestyle. He collected World Cup points with 13th at Silvaplana/Corvatsch in March 2023, then added 25th at Aspen in February 2025 and 21st at Tignes in March 2025 as the winter closed—evidence that his approach survives pressure and unfamiliar snowpacks. The settings are telling. Corvatsch’s purpose-built venue in the Corvatsch Park rewards measured speed and late-set timing. Aspen’s broadcast-stage slopestyle at Aspen Snowmass demands clean takeoffs under TV timing. Tignes’ spring stop—part of the Mountain Shaker program spotlighted by the resort’s official pages at Tignes—shifts with alpine wind and light, exposing rushed approaches. Away from the start gate, Morel frequently sharpens rails and jumps on Switzerland’s flagship parks, notably LAAX, where dense rail sets and long decks call for honest speed.

Peer-judged arenas and rider media round out the arc. He stepped into the SLVSH Cup week at Sunset Park Peretol—Grandvalira’s floodlit night park in Andorra—an environment whose public sessions and quick resets amplify any imprecision; for context on the venue itself, see Grandvalira / Peretol. In the film lane, he appears in Harlaut Apparel projects and self-edited shorts that favor readable line design over one-off stunts. Together, those touchpoints show the same athlete in two mirrors: judged runs for points, and carefully composed sequences that endure after the livestream ends.

How they ski: what to watch for

Morel skis with economy and definition—the two traits that make slopestyle and urban/street skiing teachable. Into the lip he stays tall and neutral, then sets rotation late and secures the grab before 180 degrees so the axis breathes on camera. On rails he favors square, unhurried entries; presses and backslides held just long enough to be unmistakable; minimal arm swing on change-ups; and exits with shoulders aligned so momentum survives into the next feature. Surface swaps are quiet because edge pressure is organized early, which keeps the base flat through kinks and removes the need for last-second saves. Landings read centered and inevitable—hips over feet, ankles soft—so the shot feels like one sentence instead of a series of recoveries.

Resilience, filming, and influence

While his World Cup calendar proves composure, the film lane shows intention. Morel has cut tightly edited training pieces from Saas-Fee and LAAX, and he has contributed to Harlaut Apparel’s rider-driven releases alongside teammates from across Europe. In one house project, he even took editing duties himself—an on-screen reminder that he thinks about how tricks read, not just how they score. The result is skiing that holds up at half speed: calm entry, patient pop, early grab definition, square-shoulder exits. Because the pacing and framings are designed to show slope angle and approach speed honestly, coaches and progressing riders can pause any clip and pull concrete checkpoints from it. Influence here is cumulative rather than viral—you watch, copy the mechanics on your next lap, and discover that clarity is a skill you can practice.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains the method. Morel grew up lapping the Fribourg hills around Moléson—today a favorite local playground at Moléson—where compact features and thin cover punish sloppy organization. Glacier blocks and preseason windows at Saas-Fee sharpened air awareness and wind reads, while winter and spring sessions on the long lines of LAAX layered in cadence on big decks and dense rail timing. The contest map added its own chapters: the structured slopestyle line at Aspen Snowmass, the spring finale rhythm at Corvatsch Park, and the night-lap pressure of Sunset Park Peretol. Thread those venues together and you can see their fingerprints in every segment and start list.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Morel’s current toolkit mirrors his skiing. Park twins from Armada provide a press-friendly yet predictable platform; Tyrolia bindings deliver consistent release and ramp that won’t tip him into the backseat; Giro handles head protection and optics; and Harlaut Apparel Co. covers outerwear with an edits-first ethos. For viewers trying to borrow the feel, the hardware lessons are simple. Choose a true park twin with a balanced, medium flex you can press without folding; detune the contact points enough to reduce rail bite while keeping trustworthy grip on the lip; and mount close enough to center that switch landings feel neutral and presses sit level. Keep binding ramp angles neutral so hips can stack over feet and the skis can do the storytelling.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about Valentin Morel because his skiing is legible and durable. In results, that shows up as steady World Cup points and clean qualifying runs on varied courses; on film, it looks like edits built to survive slow-motion scrutiny. Progressing riders care because the same choices are teachable on normal resorts: stay tall into the lip, set late, define the grab early, hold presses long enough to read, and exit with shoulders square so speed survives for what’s next. Whether the backdrop is a spring final at Corvatsch, a windy course above Aspen, a Mountain Shaker rail at Tignes, or a week of night laps in LAAX, his blueprint turns realistic terrain into stylish, reliable freeskiing across slopestyle, big air side hits, and urban/street skiing.