"La Bande à Harlaut" A B-Dog Bone

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

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

Philip “B-Dog” Casabon is a Canadian freeski icon from Shawinigan, Québec, whose style-first language—presses, butters, nollies, reverts, and shiftys that breathe—reshaped modern park and urban skiing. He rose through night laps at his local hill, Vallée du Parc, and became one of the most influential riders of his generation by proving that creativity, definition, and flow can outweigh brute force. His cultural footprint is matched by hardware: back-to-back gold medals at X Games Real Ski in 2018 and 2019, plus the 2018 Fan Favorite nod, cemented his status as a peer-elected standard. In the same window, he released the widely praised film “En Particulier” with Brady Perron and was named Freeskier’s Skier of the Year, a rare double for a rider focused on film and street. Casabon matters because he made style specific and teachable—clips that hold up frame by frame and a movement language that any progressing skier can study and apply.

Competitive arc and key venues

Casabon’s competitive résumé is unconventional by design. Early in his career he tested himself in slopestyle at Aspen, making multiple Winter X Games appearances when the discipline was still defining itself. As urban skiing’s broadcast moment arrived, he shifted to segments and rider-curated showcases that better matched his voice. The pivot paid off: his 2018 X Games Real Ski gold, delivered alongside the Fan Favorite award, was followed by a repeat gold in 2019—rare back-to-back wins that confirmed his dominance in the all-video, all-street format. In the culture-defining B&E era at Les Arcs, he collected “Best Style” honors in both 2014 and 2015 on a skate-inspired setup designed to reward touch and originality. Those landmarks—Aspen’s spotlight, Real Ski’s medals, and Les Arcs’ style awards—map the arc of a skier who used competition as a proof-of-concept for ideas refined in edits.

The places tied to his name help explain the skiing. Vallée du Parc gave him the repetition and switch comfort that show up in his lines. Aspen’s big-build tempo at Aspen Snowmass taught wind calls, long decks, and pressure management under cameras. The B&E park at Les Arcs encouraged butters into spins, long presses, and transfers that value feel over amplitude. Together they shaped a rider who reads features instantly and turns modest speed into full sentences of skiing.

How they ski: what to watch for

Casabon skis with economy and definition. Approaches stay tall and neutral. He sets rotation late, locks grabs early—often with unmistakable tweaks—and lets the trick breathe rather than rushing the set. On rails, the signatures are square entries, long-held presses and backslides that are obvious to the eye, surface swaps with minimal arm swing, and exits where the shoulders stay aligned so momentum carries into the next feature. Even when the spot is complex, he organizes edge pressure early to keep the base flat through kinks, which is why his landings read inevitable rather than rescued. On jumps and side hits the same patience appears: pop comes from the feet up, grabs are defined before 180 degrees, and the upper body stays quiet so the skis do the storytelling. The result is a blueprint any rider can study—calm entry, patient pop, early grab definition, square-shoulder exit.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Casabon’s influence runs through films and community projects as much as medals. He built a decade-long catalog of replayable segments, culminating in the late-2010s run that paired Real Ski golds with a festival-tested film presence. The work emphasized honest speed, horizon awareness, and compositions that make slope angle and body organization clear—choices that help viewers learn, not just watch. In the B&E era, his partnership with Henrik Harlaut created a platform where style was the scorecard, then pushed those ideas back into parks, streets, and product design. Interviews and long-form conversations from this period reveal a method that prizes durability over hype: habits you can repeat when conditions are imperfect and cameras are rolling.

That durability—plus a willingness to mentor—keeps his influence alive in a generation that learns from edits. Coaches use his clips to illustrate patient setups and clean exits; riders break down his presses and shifty timing to build their own lines. He is both reference and proof: you do not need the world’s biggest jump to show world-class skiing if your movements are organized and your choices are clear.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains the method. Shawinigan’s Vallée du Parc is a human-scale hill where repetition is abundant and mistakes are obvious. Night laps there forged the switch comfort, precise edging, and patience that define his rail game. The spotlight and wind at Aspen Snowmass layered in big-feature timing and composure. The creative modules at Les Arcs rewarded a horizontal vocabulary—presses, butters, wheelies—that Casabon helped popularize, proving that expression at low to medium speeds can be as compelling as amplitude. When you trace the map, you see the fingerprints in every clip: local-hill repetition, big-park patience, and skate-park creativity applied to snow.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Casabon’s long relationship with Armada extended far beyond sticker placement. His pro model BDog and the experimental BDog Edgeless in Armada’s Zero Collection were designed to serve his priorities—predictable flex for presses and butters, confidence on switch landings, and swing weight that stays honest on slower-speed pops. The gear lessons for progressing skiers mirror that logic. Choose a true park ski with a balanced, medium flex you can bend without folding. Detune the contact points enough to reduce rail bite while maintaining dependable edge hold on the lip. Mount close enough to center that presses sit level and switch landings feel neutral. Keep binding ramp angles that don’t tip you onto your heels. Then build a process that matches the hardware: film laps, compare shoulder alignment and hip-to-ankle stack against a short checklist, and repeat until the movements become automatic. The setup is the scaffold; the habits are the house.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about Philip Casabon because his skiing ages well. The clips prioritize timing, organization, and line design over noise, which is why they survive slow-motion scrutiny years later. Progressing skiers care because the same choices are teachable on normal parks and real snowpacks. If your winter looks like night laps on a small hill, weekend missions to a destination park, and a few street sessions with friends, his blueprint shows how to turn limited speed and imperfect conditions into memorable skiing. The medals—back-to-back X Games Real Ski golds and Fan Favorite in 2018—are milestones; the lasting takeaway is a method: calm entry, patient pop, early grab definition, square-shoulder exit, and a flow that connects a run into a single sentence. That is why B-Dog remains essential viewing for anyone who cares about freeskiing’s style, substance, and future.