LIARS HELL

Profile and significance

Elena Paskevich (often listed in international results as Elena Ann Paskevich) is a Canadian freeski athlete from Edmonton, Alberta, who made her mark as a park-and-pipe all-rounder in the junior-to-Nor-Am transition years. Born January 21, 1999, she is publicly profiled as a team rider by Surface Skis, with her home hill and training base linked to Rabbit Hill, a local resort known for producing strong terrain-park skiers through high-repetition laps and tight-knit coaching scenes.

Her significance on a freeski database like skipowd.tv is that she is a clean example of a North American development pathway that rewards versatility: she competed in both freeski slopestyle and freeski halfpipe at Nor-Am level, and she was a standout at Canadian junior championships before stepping into deeper international fields. She is currently listed as “not active” in international records, but her documented results still map a clear competitive peak that helps tell the broader story of Canadian women’s freeski progression in the late 2010s.

Competitive arc and key venues

Paskevich’s strongest, most clearly documented breakthrough came at the 2017 Canadian Freestyle Junior National Championships in Whistler, where she was named the Women Overall champion and also won the U18 women’s titles across slopestyle, big air, and halfpipe at Whistler Blackcomb. That sweep matters because it shows depth rather than a single-event spike: slopestyle emphasizes rails plus jump combos, big air isolates amplitude and landing control, and halfpipe demands speed management and repeated takeoff-and-landing precision.

From there, her record shows real traction on the Nor-Am circuit, the key “bridge tour” between regional competition and World Cup opportunities. In the 2017–18 season she finished second overall in the women’s Nor-Am slopestyle standings. Event-by-event highlights include a second-place Nor-Am slopestyle finish at Mammoth Mountain in March 2018, along with third-place results in Nor-Am slopestyle at Aspen’s Buttermilk venue within Aspen Snowmass, and in Nor-Am slopestyle at Canada Olympic Park in Calgary. Her Nor-Am halfpipe record also included a third-place finish at Mammoth Mountain, plus additional top-10 placements in pipe at both Mammoth and Aspen.

Her starts also include stops that are common “test pieces” for developing park skiers: Mount St. Louis Moonstone in Ontario, and Le Relais in Québec. These venues are useful signals because they reflect the reality of a Canadian season: athletes learn to execute under different snow textures, feature builds, and weather swings that can reshape a slopestyle course overnight.

How they ski: what to watch for

There is limited reliable public material that breaks down Paskevich’s trick selection in detail, so the fairest way to describe her style is through what her competitive record requires. A skier who can podium in Nor-Am slopestyle and also place on the Nor-Am halfpipe podium typically has two strengths: the ability to maintain speed and composure across a full run, and the technical discipline to keep landings clean enough to preserve momentum into the next feature.

When you watch an athlete with this kind of dual-discipline profile, the most revealing details are execution and run-building, not just difficulty. In slopestyle, look for the “connection quality” between rails and jumps: does the skier stay calm and balanced through the course, or do they look like they’re constantly saving it? In halfpipe, look for consistency of height and the cleanliness of takeoffs. Pipe rewards repeated precision; the skier who can put down six or more hits without speed loss is usually the skier who can stay competitive even when judging trends evolve.

For developing freeski fans, Paskevich’s results are also a reminder that slopestyle and halfpipe develop different forms of control. Slopestyle is often about quickly switching from rail mechanics to aerial mechanics; halfpipe is about rhythm and timing. Performing well in both suggests an athlete who trained fundamentals hard enough that they travel across formats.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Paskevich’s verifiable public legacy is primarily competitive rather than film-driven. That is not a knock; it simply places her in the lane of athletes whose influence comes from measured performance on demanding circuits. Nor-Am is where many careers are made or stalled because it exposes weaknesses quickly: travel fatigue, qualification pressure, changing course builds, and the mental challenge of needing to land “contest clean” tricks repeatedly.

Her junior-national sweep in 2017 and Nor-Am podiums in 2018 show a pattern of resilience in that environment: she could deliver across multiple disciplines and across multiple venues. Even without a widely documented film catalogue, athletes like Paskevich still shape the sport in practical ways—by raising the baseline of what’s expected at national events and by proving that all-around park-and-pipe development can produce immediate Nor-Am-level results.

It’s also worth noting that being listed as not active today underlines another truth about freeski: the sport has a steep opportunity curve, and the transition years can be volatile. That context helps fans interpret results realistically—strong Nor-Am performance is a serious achievement, even if it does not always translate into a long World Cup career.

Geography that built the toolkit

Paskevich’s home base around Edmonton and her connection to Rabbit Hill point to a classic Canadian park progression recipe: smaller-hill repetition plus a community terrain-park culture that prioritizes fundamentals. Local hills often create sharper technique because skiers get so many laps; you learn quickly how to pop efficiently, how to stay centered on short landings, and how to approach rails with discipline instead of “hoping it works.”

From there, her competition map expands outward to places that represent major developmental stepping-stones: Canada Olympic Park for Calgary-based park-and-pipe infrastructure, and Whistler Blackcomb for bigger-course exposure and the kind of event environment that feels closer to top-tier international skiing. Her U.S. Nor-Am results at Mammoth Mountain and Aspen’s Buttermilk venue inside Aspen Snowmass add another layer: these are places with deep fields, high expectations, and course builds that demand both confidence and adaptiveness.

That mix of local-hill precision and destination-level scale is a strong explanation for why her results appear in both slopestyle and halfpipe. The geography forces variety, and variety tends to create the kind of balanced skiing that shows up as podium potential when the conditions line up.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Paskevich is publicly listed as a rider for Surface Skis, which is one of the few pieces of partner information that can be stated without guessing. On her brand profile, the “What Elena rides” link routes to a featured park ski model, suggesting the kind of toolset that fits her documented strengths: durable construction and a design aimed at rails and park landings rather than pure freeride charging.

For progressing skiers, the practical lesson is not to chase a specific pro setup, but to match equipment to how you actually ski. If you are trying to follow a slopestyle-and-pipe path, prioritize predictability: a ski that feels balanced when you’re switch, edges that are tuned intentionally for rails, and boots that let you pressure the ski precisely without collapsing under impact. Contest formats magnify small inconsistencies. The skiers who make Nor-Am finals and podiums tend to be the ones whose equipment feels the same in training, qualification, and finals day.

Finally, her venue mix suggests a gear philosophy that many competitive freeskiers share: one reliable park-focused setup, maintained carefully, beats constant experimentation. Consistent tuning, consistent mount, and consistent boot fit are often the invisible difference between “almost landed” and “stomped,” especially on cold, firm days at smaller hills and spring slush days at destination resorts.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans should care about Elena Paskevich because her record captures a credible, verifiable peak in Canadian women’s freeski development: a junior national sweep at Whistler Blackcomb followed by Nor-Am-level podiums and an overall second-place season in slopestyle. That arc shows what it looks like when junior dominance translates into international results, even before the World Cup level is part of the story.

Progressing skiers can learn from her simply by understanding what those results imply. To podium in Nor-Am slopestyle, you need more than one big trick; you need a complete run with speed, composure, and clean landings. To also place highly in halfpipe, you need rhythm and repeatable takeoffs. Taken together, her career highlights point to a development model that still matters: build fundamentals at local hills like Rabbit Hill, prove your all-around skill at national events, then test it against deeper fields at destinations like Mammoth Mountain. Even if she is not active today, that pathway—and the level of execution it demands—remains one of the clearest routes into high-level freeski performance.

Profile and significance

Eric Law is a freeski rider whose most verifiable public footprint comes through community video projects rather than through major international contest rankings. He is credited as one of the skiers in “LIARS HELL,” a street skiing video described as being from Edmonton, Alberta, and he also appears in the rider list for “temporarily away on business” (released January 2024). Earlier, he was credited as one of the skiers in “Just your average edit,” filmed at Vista Ridge in Fort McMurray (published January 2016). Those credits establish a simple, meaningful baseline: he is a real, documented participant in Alberta freeski media, spanning multiple seasons and different local hills.

That matters for a video-first freeski audience because a huge part of modern freeski culture is built outside of formal competition. Street skiing and park laps are where style is refined, where crews learn to film, and where progression becomes visible through edits. Law’s presence in these projects places him in the category of scene-level athletes who help keep a local community active and watchable.

Competitive arc and key venues

There is not enough reliably documented public information to describe a competition résumé for Eric Law in the way you would for a World Cup or X Games athlete, and it would be wrong to guess. Instead, his “arc” is best understood through the timeline of credited edits. In 2016, he was listed among the skiers in a Fort McMurray park edit filmed at Vista Ridge, a hill that operates as a central training and community hub for local sliding sports. Later, he appears in the credits for a 2024 crew edit and in “LIARS HELL,” framed as an Edmonton street skiing project. That shift in documentation from a hill-focused park edit toward street-oriented releases is a common pathway in freeskiing: riders start by stacking reps in the terrain park, then bring that precision into urban features when the crew, access, and winter timing line up.

Venue context matters here because it explains the type of skiing you’re likely to see. A place like Vista Ridge offers the repeatable laps that build consistency, while an urban setting like Edmonton tends to reward spot selection, speed control on imperfect run-ins, and the patience to return until a trick looks clean on camera. If you want a useful map of what shaped his skiing, start with those two anchors: local hill reps and street-film conditions.

How they ski: what to watch for

Because Eric Law’s clearest public documentation is as a credited skier in park and street edits, the most honest evaluation lens is the one used for street and terrain-park freeski: execution, composure, and how “finished” a clip looks. In slopestyle and big air, viewers often talk about amplitude and trick difficulty. In urban/street skiing, a lot of the judgment shifts to how naturally the trick fits the feature and how controlled the skier looks from approach through exit.

When you watch skiing from this lane, look for the fundamentals that make rail and street clips hold up on rewatch. Is the approach speed decided early, or does it look rushed at the last second? Does the upper body stay calm through contact, or does it fight the feature? Does the landing carry flow, or does it look like survival? Those cues tell you more than any single trick name. The projects Law is credited in are built around that kind of scrutiny: they are meant to be watched for style as much as for progression.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Street skiing is one of the most demanding formats in freeskiing, even when the tricks are not described publicly. Getting a clip typically means repeated attempts, negotiating access, dealing with weather that changes by the hour, and accepting that the best-looking version may come long after the first landed version. Being credited in a street project from Edmonton signals participation in that grind. It is not “highlight reel” skiing in the easy sense; it is process-heavy skiing where patience and crew coordination are part of the performance.

Influence at this level tends to be local and practical. A rider’s impact is not measured by broadcast exposure, but by whether they show up season after season, contribute clips that raise the standard inside a crew, and help a scene stay active. Law’s documented appearances across the 2016 to 2024 window suggest continuity: a real presence in the kind of community output that keeps Alberta freeski visible to people who follow edits, not just contests.

Geography that built the toolkit

Alberta produces a distinctive freeski toolkit because many riders develop in environments where vertical is limited but winter is long. That usually means high-frequency sessions, short-lap efficiency, and a strong focus on rails and park features that can be hit repeatedly. Vista Ridge is a good example of the kind of local hill that supports that progression: it’s close to the community, it’s session-friendly, and it provides the repetition that turns “can land it” into “can land it clean.”

On the street side, Edmonton adds a different education: urban features demand precision, and the filming process forces a higher standard of control. If you’re trying to understand what kind of skier emerges from that geography, think of a blend of park discipline and street problem-solving. That blend is exactly what you would expect from someone credited in both a hill-based edit in Fort McMurray and a street skiing project based in Edmonton.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

There is not enough reliably verifiable public information to name specific sponsors, ski models, or a confirmed gear setup for Eric Law, and it would be inaccurate to invent one. What can be stated safely is the equipment logic that generally supports the type of skiing he is documented in. Park and street freeskiing typically rewards durability, predictable swing weight, and a centered feel that makes skiing switch as natural as skiing forward. Reliability matters because the format depends on repeats: you want a setup that feels the same on attempt one and attempt fifteen, especially in cold conditions and on firm landings.

The “partners” that matter most in this lane are usually human rather than corporate: the filmer, the crew, and the people who help keep sessions productive. If you’re a progressing skier looking for takeaways, focus less on brand chasing and more on building a repeatable system: consistent boot fit, a tune that matches rails and hardpack, and a crew rhythm that lets you actually film and review your skiing. That is how edits get made, and that is how style gets sharpened.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about riders like Eric Law because freeski culture is bigger than finals and podiums. A lot of what makes freeski compelling is the texture of real winters: local hills, small crews, street spots, and the satisfaction of a clean clip that took work. Law’s documented credits in community edits provide a genuine window into that side of the sport, especially within Alberta’s park-and-street ecosystem.

Progressing skiers should care because the pathway is relatable. You can see the outline of how skiing develops when it is built through repetition and filming: start with park laps at a local hill like Vista Ridge, then apply those fundamentals to more demanding street environments like Edmonton. The lesson is simple and useful: clean execution is a skill, and it is trained through reps, feedback, and patience—not only through bigger tricks.

Profile and significance

John Smigelski is best understood through the modern freeski lane where riding and media-making overlap. In the Alberta park-and-street scene, his name shows up repeatedly as a filmer and editor, and also as a rider credited in local street projects. That combination matters because freeski culture is not only shaped by contests; it is shaped by the people who document what a winter actually looks like—storm weeks, short-hill laps, night sessions, and the messy, repeatable work that turns progression into a visible storyline.

Smigelski’s significance is local but real: he is connected to the kind of edits that keep a regional scene cohesive and recognizable. When an athlete is regularly behind the camera, they help decide what gets celebrated: which tricks read clean, which spots are worth returning to, and what “good style” looks like in that community. For a freeski database, he represents the creative engine that often sits behind emerging riders, parks, and crews—especially in areas where the nearest big-mountain resort is a trip, not a daily default.

Competitive arc and key venues

Public information about Smigelski is weighted toward filming and project credits rather than formal contest results, so his “arc” reads as a sequence of places and sessions. The recurring hubs are the Edmonton-area training hills—most notably Rabbit Hill and Edmonton Ski Club—where terrain parks and short, repeatable laps create the perfect environment for technical rail progression and camera work. Those are the kinds of hills where skiers can get dozens of tries in a single afternoon, refine timing quickly, and make street-style tricks feel automatic before bringing them to bigger features.

His work is also tied to destination-day energy in the Rockies, especially Banff Sunshine Village, where spring park builds and staff-night culture naturally feed into edits and local film projects. From a viewer’s perspective, that mix is the story: smaller, repeatable parks for foundation and experimentation, then bigger resort terrain for speed, scale, and the kind of backdrop that turns a normal session into something that feels cinematic within the Banff & Lake Louise region.

How they ski: what to watch for

Smigelski’s on-snow identity is closely aligned with the park-and-rails style that translates cleanly to street skiing. That usually means skiing that is built to be readable on camera: quiet upper body, confident approach speed, and tricks that look intentional rather than improvised. In a street setting, the best clips rarely come from the biggest move on paper; they come from doing the hard part—speed, pop, body position, and exit—so smoothly that the trick looks “inevitable.” That’s the aesthetic most crews chase, and it’s the kind of skiing typically associated with riders who also film and edit.

If you are watching to evaluate progression, focus less on trying to guess a trick list and more on the fundamentals that show up in every good street-or-park clip. Does the skier approach features with controlled speed instead of late panic checks? Do they stay balanced through takeoff, and do they land in a way that keeps moving down the fall line? On rails, look for clean entries and exits that don’t require a big arm save. Those details are what separate a clip that looks “real” from a clip that looks like a close call.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Making freeski edits in Alberta is a form of resilience on its own. Conditions change fast, features get salted or shut down, and street seasons can disappear when the weather swings. Filming through that means showing up repeatedly—often to the same hill, the same rail, or the same park build—until something clicks. Smigelski’s repeated credits as film-and-edit on local projects point to that persistence: the willingness to do the unglamorous work of documenting a scene rather than waiting for the perfect setup.

That kind of output has a quiet influence. When someone is consistently filming, they create a shared memory for the community and a benchmark for the next generation. Edits become reference material: how fast to hit a feature, what style looks clean, what kinds of landings are acceptable, and what “progression” means in a given winter. Even without major contest credentials, the skier-filmer role can shape a scene as directly as any podium.

Geography that built the toolkit

The geography around Edmonton tends to produce a practical, repetition-driven freeski style. When your day-to-day riding happens at smaller local hills, you learn to maximize short runs: fast resets, lots of tries, and the patience to stack marginal gains. That environment is especially powerful for rails, because you can dial timing and balance without needing big-mountain terrain. It also naturally supports filming, because crews can return to the same spot often and build an edit over many sessions instead of betting everything on one day.

At the same time, Alberta riders often supplement that local base with trips into bigger resort terrain. Banff Sunshine Village sits inside Banff National Park, and sessions there bring a different toolkit: more speed, larger features, and a more “destination” version of park skiing that rewards confidence on bigger transitions. The combination of these worlds—local repetition plus Rocky Mountain scale—helps explain why the Alberta street-and-park scene can feel both technical and tough.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

There is not enough reliable public information to state a confirmed personal sponsor list for Smigelski, and it would be wrong to guess. What is verifiable is his connection to apparel culture in the scene, including visibility around 4WESTCO releases that sit right at the intersection of freeski function and street-influenced style. Even without labeling it sponsorship, that context is useful: in street and park skiing, clothing choices are often practical—mobility for rails, durability for repeated falls, and comfort for long filming days.

For progressing skiers, the bigger equipment lesson from a rider-filmer profile is consistency. Street and park skiing punish sloppy setups: a boot that shifts in fit, edges that feel unpredictable, or skis that don’t feel balanced in switch. The skiers who get repeatable clips tend to run predictable, durable gear and focus on what helps them try the same trick many times in changing conditions. If your goal is to ski like a filmer’s favorite subject, your best “upgrade” is usually not a new ski—it’s a dialed boot fit and a setup you trust on every approach.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans should care about John Smigelski because he represents an essential part of freeskiing that doesn’t always show up in mainstream results: the local builder. He is tied to the Edmonton-area ecosystem that produces street edits and park progression through repetition, filming, and community energy. That kind of contribution is what keeps a scene alive, even when it is far from the traditional contest spotlight.

If you are a progressing skier, his value is practical. Pay attention to the kind of hills and sessions that show up around his work—places like Rabbit Hill and Edmonton Ski Club—because they highlight a development truth: you don’t need a massive resort to get good. You need reps, friends who will film, and the patience to improve one detail at a time. That mindset is the foundation of street skiing, park skiing, and the edits that make freeski culture feel real.

Profile and significance

Kaileb Torrie is a Canadian freeski athlete whose public, verifiable competition footprint sits in big-mountain freeride rather than traditional park World Cups. Listed as a Ski Men competitor from Canada and affiliated with Edmonton Ski Club, he is part of the North American pathway that feeds freeride’s highest level through sanctioned qualifiers. He appears in official ranking and rider pages connected to the Freeride World Tour Qualifier system and the IFSA ecosystem, which is where many emerging freeriders build experience before they ever become widely known outside the core community.

For a video-first ski audience, Torrie matters because his skiing sits at a useful intersection: he is building freeride competition experience while also appearing in Edmonton-based street skiing projects. That combination is increasingly common among modern athletes who want more than one way to express their skiing. Freeride demands snow reading, line choice, and control at speed; street skiing demands precision, patience, and a strong sense of style. When an athlete pursues both, it often produces a distinct “watchability” that goes beyond results on paper.

Competitive arc and key venues

Torrie’s most clearly documented result to date is a start in the 2025 season on the FWT Qualifier Americas track, where he is shown with a scored performance at the 2025 Kicking Horse IFSA Qualifier, placing 46th in that event’s Ski Men field. That single entry may look modest, but it tells you something real: he is stepping into the same qualification structure used by athletes trying to climb from regional start lists into deeper, more pressure-heavy events. In freeride, simply getting onto the right start lists—then learning to manage inspection, conditions, and judging criteria—is a major part of development.

The venues tied to that pathway help explain the skill demands. Kicking Horse Mountain Resort is known for steep, technical alpine terrain that rewards decisive skiing and smart risk management. The broader IFSA and FWT Qualifier ecosystem in Western Canada frequently overlaps with places like Revelstoke Mountain Resort, where big-mountain lines, variable snow, and feature-filled faces create the kind of canvas freeriders need in order to show range. Even when you focus on one result, the geography signals the direction: this is an athlete building comfort in the terrain that defines modern freeride competition.

At the same time, Torrie’s on-screen presence in Edmonton street edits shows a very different venue set: the city itself and the short-lap training hills that make Alberta’s park scene possible. That contrast—prairie-city repetition at home, then British Columbia big-mountain terrain for competition—often shapes a skier’s style in ways fans can feel immediately.

How they ski: what to watch for

In freeride, “how they ski” is less about a fixed trick list and more about decision-making under real mountain constraints. When you watch Torrie in freeride footage, evaluate him the way freeride judges do: the logic of the line, the quality of control through technical sections, and the commitment level relative to the terrain. A strong run typically looks like a clear plan executed with calm—clean fall-line skiing, purposeful speed management, and airs chosen because they fit the line rather than because they are the biggest option available.

There are also subtle crossover markers from park skiing that can show up in freeride athletes who train outside resort megahills. The ability to pop cleanly, absorb landings, and stay balanced through transitions often comes from the same repetition that builds slopestyle and big air fundamentals. If Torrie continues blending freeride starts with street and park sessions, look for that in his skiing: landings that stay composed, a stable upper body, and a willingness to take off and land with a clean, “camera-readable” posture.

His street skiing involvement adds another lens. In street clips, the signature isn’t speed; it’s precision. Watch whether approaches look planned early, whether the trick stays quiet on the feature, and whether exits carry control. Those traits tend to translate back to freeride as well, because freeride lines often demand the same kind of patience and accuracy—just at a much larger scale.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Torrie has publicly described how meeting a local crew opened up street skiing as a new form of expression for him. That’s a meaningful detail because it shows adaptability. Many athletes pick one lane and stay there; switching into street filming requires a different kind of commitment: returning to the same spot, taking repeated attempts in imperfect conditions, and accepting that the best version is the cleanest one, not the first one landed.

Appearing in a multi-skier Edmonton street project also matters culturally. Local edits are often where progression becomes visible long before an athlete becomes a regular name on start lists. In that sense, Torrie’s influence—at least right now—is less “global headline” and more “scene-level momentum.” He is part of the output that keeps an Edmonton winter watchable, while he simultaneously tests himself in the higher-consequence environment of sanctioned freeride qualifiers.

That dual focus can be a long-term advantage. Freeride competition rewards mental composure and smart risk decisions; filming rewards patience, process, and the ability to perform on demand for the camera. Athletes who can do both often develop a strong competitive routine without losing the style and creativity that brought most people into freeski culture in the first place.

Geography that built the toolkit

Coming out of Edmonton means building skill in a region where “mountain access” is often a trip rather than a daily default. That typically creates a repetition-driven foundation: lots of short sessions, lots of attempts, and an emphasis on technique that holds up in cold, firm conditions. Hills like Edmonton Ski Club and Rabbit Hill Snow Resort are the kind of places where skiers can do the unglamorous work—dialing takeoffs, learning balance, and building consistency through high-volume laps.

Then Western Canada’s freeride geography provides the second half of the equation. When you move from Edmonton training to British Columbia venues such as Kicking Horse Mountain Resort and Revelstoke Mountain Resort, the terrain demands expand fast: steeper pitches, more complex snow, and bigger exposure. That contrast can create a distinctive athlete profile—technical and disciplined from repetition, but hungry for scale when the mountains show up. Torrie’s documented participation in the qualifier environment suggests he is actively building that bridge.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

There is not enough reliable public information to label a confirmed sponsor roster for Torrie, and it would be incorrect to claim formal partnerships without an official announcement. What is visible through his own public posts is that he has tagged equipment and retail names such as Elan skis and Roxa ski boots, alongside Skier's Sportshop. The practical value in that is not “copy this exact setup,” but understanding what an emerging freeride athlete typically prioritizes: a reliable boot fit for edge control, skis that can handle variable snow, and a consistent, trusted service relationship for tuning and repairs.

For progressing skiers trying to learn from a freeride pathway, the main gear lesson is predictability. Big-mountain freeride punishes surprises: if your boots don’t hold your heel, your edging suffers; if your skis feel nervous in chopped snow, your line choices shrink; if your tune is inconsistent, you hesitate in the steeps. Add in street and park sessions, and durability becomes even more important. The best “equipment upgrade” is often not a new product, but a setup that stays the same day to day and lets you focus on skiing decisions rather than equipment problems.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Kaileb Torrie is the kind of athlete fans can enjoy tracking early: young enough to still be defining his lane, but already present in official freeride qualification structures through the Freeride World Tour and IFSA ecosystem. His documented start at the 2025 Kicking Horse IFSA Qualifier places him on a real development path in big-mountain skiing, where experience and composure often matter as much as raw talent.

Progressing skiers can also take something concrete from his mix of freeride and street exposure. It’s a reminder that modern freeski progression isn’t one-dimensional. Freeride builds mountain intelligence and control; park and big air sharpen takeoff and landing fundamentals; urban/street skiing sharpens precision and style. If Torrie keeps blending those worlds, his best moments will likely be the ones where that crossover is visible: a freeride line skied with the calm of repetition and the clean finish of a filmer’s eye.

Profile and significance

Layne Dalke is a Canadian freeski rider whose public footprint is rooted in the Edmonton, Alberta park-and-street scene rather than in major international contest start lists. What makes him notable for a video-first ski audience is consistency: his name appears in multiple crew edits and street projects across several seasons, the kind of repeat credit that signals a real presence in a local ecosystem where progression is earned through cold-weather sessions, spot hunts, and the patience it takes to stack clips.

Dalke is credited in a run of edits released by the same Edmonton-based circle, including “Blue Comet” (March 2023), “LAZY MARY” (November 2023), “temporarily away on business” (January 2024), “8th wonder of the world” (February 2024), and “LIARS HELL” (released November 12, year shown on the platform). That pattern points to an athlete who matters inside a community: not because of medals, but because he’s part of the output that keeps a scene visible.

Competitive arc and key venues

There is no widely documented FIS-style competition record attached to Dalke in the public sources that surface most readily, so the clearest “arc” is built through filming timelines. “LAZY MARY” is described as a street project filmed over the 2022/23 season, while “LIARS HELL” is explicitly framed as a street skiing video from Edmonton, Alberta. In other words, his trajectory is easiest to track through releases and seasons, not through podiums.

Key venues show up through the edit titles and descriptions around the same circle. “8th wonder of the world” notes a session at Edmonton Ski Club, and multiple edits from the broader crew point back to Rabbit Hill Snow Resort—often referenced locally as “RabLab”—as a central training ground for terrain-park laps in an otherwise flat region. When you’re evaluating Dalke’s skiing, it’s useful to think in terms of repeatable access: short hills, high reps, and street spots close to home are the engines that build trick volume and rail comfort.

How they ski: what to watch for

Because Dalke’s most verifiable public appearances are within street-oriented and park-session edits, the most honest way to describe his skiing is by the environment it’s showcased in. Urban/street skiing and rail-focused park edits reward a particular toolkit: controlled speed checks, precise takeoffs on inconsistent surfaces, and the ability to keep tricks looking clean even when the run-in, landing, or feature quality is less than perfect.

When you watch a rider coming out of this lane, focus on the details that separate “landed” from “dialed.” Look for how early the trick is set, whether the upper body stays quiet through contact, and how confidently the skier exits a feature. In slopestyle and big air the stakes are often amplitude and spin, but in street skiing the evaluation is frequently about style, risk management, and making difficult features look repeatable. Dalke’s credits in multi-rider street projects put him in that conversation: the clips are built to be watched slowly, not just counted.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Local edits rarely happen by accident. They take coordination, repeat attempts, and a willingness to return when conditions aren’t ideal. Dalke’s recurring presence across different releases and seasons suggests resilience in the practical sense: showing up often enough that footage accumulates, and staying connected to a crew long enough that a name continues to appear in the roll call.

That matters for influence, even without international visibility. Scenes like Edmonton’s act as development pipelines: riders learn how to film, how to work with friends who shoot and edit, and how to progress with limited vertical and inconsistent weather. When a skier is reliably part of that output, they become one of the reference points for what the local standard looks like—how clean a rail trick should be, what “good” style means, and what it takes to get a clip in the cold.

Geography that built the toolkit

Alberta freeski progression has a distinct flavor. The combination of small urban hills, short lift-served laps, and long stretches of winter creates an environment where repetition is king. A place like Rabbit Hill Snow Resort is valuable precisely because it offers a consistent terrain-park platform close to Edmonton. High-frequency sessions build confidence on rails and smaller jumps, which then translate into better trick execution when the skier steps onto bigger features or more technical street spots.

At the same time, Alberta riders have access to the Rocky Mountain corridor, where spring setups and park events can provide a different scale of features. Banff Sunshine Village is one of the recognizable hubs for that next step, and the wider Canadian park scene includes creative, skier-driven events like the Pro Bowl Riding (PBR) Sessions hosted there in recent years. Even if a specific rider’s attendance isn’t always listed in public descriptions, the existence of that pathway helps explain why an Edmonton-based skier’s style often blends street grit with park precision.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

No major sponsor roster is reliably documented for Dalke in the same public sources that list his video appearances, so the most useful “equipment” discussion is practical rather than promotional. Street and park skiers tend to prioritize durability and predictability: twin-tip skis that can handle repetitive rail impacts,, edges that are tuned for slide consistency, and bindings mounted to support switch takeoffs and landings. Boots that fit well and stay consistent through cold sessions matter more than marginal gains in stiffness.

If you’re progressing in the same lane, take note of the lifestyle implied by the edits: short-session efficiency, warm-up habits that prevent injury, and a willingness to keep skiing even when conditions are less than cinematic. The best takeaway from a rider like Dalke isn’t “buy this product,” it’s “build a system” that lets you stack reps. That’s what turns a local hill into a legitimate training ground for freeski slopestyle skills and urban/street skiing confidence.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Layne Dalke is a good reminder that freeskiing isn’t only defined by televised finals. A huge amount of the sport’s style, creativity, and day-to-day progression is shaped by riders whose names live in crew edits and street projects. His documented appearances in multiple releases across 2023 and 2024, plus a newer street project credit, make him part of an Edmonton scene that keeps producing watchable skiing.

For fans, that means discoverability: if you like rail-heavy edits and the texture of real street spots, his film credits put him in the middle of that world. For progressing skiers, it’s more direct: the path is visible—lap the local park, film with friends, learn how to make tricks clean, and keep showing up long enough that your skiing becomes part of a community’s output. That kind of consistency is its own form of significance.

Profile and significance

Mark Valtr is a Canadian freeski rider whose name comes up as often behind the camera as it does in front of it. In modern freeski culture, that overlap matters: the athletes who film, edit, and produce are often the ones shaping what “good” looks like in the first place. Valtr is closely associated with 4WESTCO, a crew and outerwear brand that has put out full-length projects and edits rooted in Western Canada’s park, street, and all-mountain scenes. His profile isn’t built on World Cup start gates or a contest résumé; it’s built on output—clips, edits, and the kind of consistent filming work that keeps a crew visible season after season.

What makes Valtr especially relevant for a freeski database is that he represents a very real lane of progression in skiing: the rider-producer who can ski with style, identify what will look good on camera, and package the whole thing into a film that other skiers actually want to watch. He has been listed as the director of the film “SPEEDBUMP” in the iF3 film guide, and that credit alone frames him as more than a cameo skier. In practical terms, he’s a case study in how regional crews build identity—through repeatable sessions, tight editing, and the geography of a place that offers both urban features and serious mountain terrain.

Competitive arc and key venues

If you’re looking for a “competitive arc” in Valtr’s story, it’s less about podiums and more about projects and places. His skiing shows up in the same environments that have defined Canadian freeskiing for years: backyard rope tows, small and medium-sized parks with dialed rhythm sections, street spots when the city freezes into a workable canvas, and the bigger resort days when the crew can migrate to terrain that rewards speed and airtime. That blend is typical of the Alberta scene, where it’s normal for the same skier to jump from a rail hit in town to a proper resort lap the next day.

On the mountain side, sessions tied to Banff Sunshine Village show up in the broader orbit of his work, including edits shot during spring park riding and the kind of “make the most of the day” laps that define resort-based freeski culture. Sunshine is also inside Banff National Park, which gives the whole setting a very specific feel: big, dramatic terrain, a long season by Canadian standards, and a trip energy that can turn an average park day into something cinematic.

On the urban side, Valtr’s name appears in street-focused edits associated with the Edmonton-area scene—exactly the kind of winter city where stairs, ledges, and handrails become training tools when conditions line up. For viewers, the key point is that his trajectory is built around “where” as much as “what”: a loop between city features and mountain parks, with travel sprinkled in when projects demand it.

How they ski: what to watch for

Valtr’s freeskiing reads as crew-driven and camera-aware. That usually means two things. First, trick choice and style are selected to film well: clean pop, a stable axis in the air, and a stomp that looks confident rather than sketchy. Second, the line is often the star. In street skiing, that shows up as patience—matching speed to the feature, keeping the approach quiet, and making the exit look as intentional as the takeoff. In park skiing, it shows up as flow: linking hits without looking rushed, and keeping the upper body calm so the trick doesn’t look forced.

Because he also works as an editor and filmer in the same universe, you can expect the skiing to be framed by the details that make freeski parts memorable: speed checks that happen early instead of at the last second, a preference for landings that carry forward momentum, and trick execution that prioritizes readability. If you’re watching to learn, focus on how he manages approach speed and takeoff timing—especially on features where the “right” speed is narrower than people think. It’s a small technical skill that separates a good-looking clip from a close call.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Valtr’s impact is tightly linked to production. The “SPEEDBUMP” project credited to him as director is framed around obstacles and changing conditions—an idea that resonated in an era when travel, operations, and access shifted quickly. That theme fits the reality of being a freeski creator: you don’t control weather, resorts don’t always cooperate, and street seasons can vanish overnight. The crews that last are the ones who adapt, and film projects are often the most honest record of that problem-solving.

His influence shows up in the way a crew’s identity becomes consistent over time. When the same person is repeatedly behind the lens and in the edit bay, the visuals start to carry a recognizable rhythm—how long a clip breathes, how a crash is treated, how the music pacing matches the skiing. For progressing skiers, that’s not just “content.” It’s a blueprint for how to document your own growth: pick a concept, keep filming, learn to cut your footage, and let the season tell its story instead of waiting for a perfect day that may never come.

Geography that built the toolkit

Western Canada produces a particular kind of freeski athlete, and Valtr fits that pattern. The region’s winter is long, the snowpack can be deep, and the street season can be surprisingly productive when cold holds and crews are willing to put in the work. That combination pushes versatility. The skier who only wants perfect park conditions will run out of days; the skier who can pivot between street spots, smaller local parks, and bigger resort features will build a far broader toolkit.

It also explains why places like Edmonton and the Banff area can both matter in the same skier’s year. Edmonton represents the urban grind—scouting, shoveling, repeating. Banff and the surrounding parks represent scale and speed—bigger terrain, longer lines, and the kind of natural backdrop that elevates an edit immediately. When you see a rider who looks comfortable in both settings, it’s usually because their home geography demanded it.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

One of the clearest “proof points” of Valtr’s credibility as a skier is his involvement in ski testing. He has been quoted publicly as a ski tester in brand-facing gear coverage, including commentary tied to SCOTT ski products. That matters because testing is less forgiving than it looks: you have to ski a wide range of shapes and flex patterns, notice real differences in stability and swing weight, and describe feel in a way other skiers can understand.

For readers, the takeaway is simple: the kind of skiing Valtr is associated with—park laps, variable resort snow, and occasional deeper days—rewards a modern all-mountain freestyle setup. Think a ski that can handle landing switch and carving back to the lift, but has enough platform to stay composed when conditions get chopped. If you’re trying to progress in the same direction, prioritize durability and predictable behavior over “the loosest ski in the world.” A consistent edge, a balanced mount point, and a boot setup that you trust will do more for your skiing than chasing novelty every season.

When brands are mentioned around his work, treat them as context rather than assumptions about sponsorship. The reliable fact is that he operates in a space where brands, resorts, and crews intersect—often through projects, testing, and filming. That’s the modern freeski ecosystem, and Valtr sits right in the middle of it.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans should care about Mark Valtr because he represents a version of freeskiing that is both athletic and constructive. He’s not just stacking tricks; he’s helping build the edits and films that define a scene, and he’s doing it from a region that consistently feeds the sport with talented riders. For progressing skiers, his value is even more direct: watch how a clip is made, not only what trick it contains. Pay attention to pacing, how speed is managed, how landings are absorbed, and how the line continues after the trick. That’s the difference between “I can do a trick” and “I can do it in a way that looks like freeskiing.”

If you’re building your own season, his model is practical: ride a lot, film consistently, learn enough editing to tell a story, and let your local hills and streets shape your style. That’s how regional freeski scenes stay alive—and it’s why skiers like Valtr matter even without a medal count attached to their name.

Profile and significance

Matteo Esposito is a freeski rider who shows up most clearly through local video credits rather than through major contest start lists. In the edits where he is credited, his name also appears as “Mateo,” so you may see both spellings depending on the release. What’s consistent is the role: he is documented as part of an Alberta park-and-street circle, with credits that stretch from mid-2010s short edits to more recent crew projects tied to Edmonton. For a video-first freeski audience, that matters because the sport’s culture is built as much by crews and edits as it is by podiums.

Esposito’s public footprint is not “headline athlete” material in the Olympic or X Games sense, but it is real and traceable. He is credited as the editor of the 2016 edit “A Lukewarm Minute,” he appears in the skier list for “Goodnight Rabbit Hill” (2018) and “MAIN” (a 2020/21 leftovers-style season edit), and he is later credited in the street skiing project “LIARS HELL,” described as filmed in Edmonton, Alberta. Those touchpoints establish both identity and continuity: a skier who has been around long enough to contribute on-camera clips and behind-the-laptop editing.

Competitive arc and key venues

There is not enough reliably documented public information to map a formal competition arc for Esposito, and it would be inaccurate to guess. Instead, his progression is best understood through release timestamps and the kinds of projects he is attached to. An early marker is “A Lukewarm Minute” (2016), which frames him as an editor within a friend group. “Goodnight Rabbit Hill” (2018) places him in a small, park-focused session edit. “MAIN” (2021) presents him as part of a crew compiling leftover clips from the 2020/21 season. “LIARS HELL” then signals a street-oriented direction, credited as a city-based project in Edmonton.

Those venues and contexts tell you what shaped the skiing. Park edits reward repetition and technical cleanliness, while street edits reward problem-solving, patience, and the ability to make a feature work even when the run-in and landing are imperfect. In the Edmonton area, a cornerstone of that park ecosystem is Rabbit Hill Snow Resort, a local hill known for keeping terrain-park laps accessible close to the city. Even when a specific rider’s day-to-day training routine is not publicly listed, the existence of that nearby infrastructure helps explain how a crew can keep producing park sessions and then pivot into street filming when conditions line up.

How they ski: what to watch for

Because Esposito’s most verifiable appearances come through edits that are explicitly park and street oriented, the most honest way to evaluate his skiing is through the fundamentals those formats expose. In street skiing, it’s rarely just “did the trick happen.” The camera is close, the margin is tight, and style is part of the difficulty. Watch for how a skier manages speed into a feature, whether their posture stays calm through contact, and whether the trick looks intentional rather than reactive. Clean exits, balanced landings, and quiet upper-body control are the small details that separate a clip you forget from a clip you replay.

In park-session edits, the lens shifts slightly toward repeatability and polish. The trick list matters, but so does the rhythm: how naturally a skier links features, how confidently they take off switch, and how consistent their timing is. A rider who appears in both types of projects is typically comfortable being judged by the camera, which is a different pressure than being judged by a score sheet. In that sense, Esposito’s documented lane is freeskiing where execution and aesthetics are the point, not just the trick name.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Street skiing is a patience sport disguised as a highlight reel. A single usable clip can require multiple days of attempts, weather windows, and coordination with whoever is filming. Being credited in a street project like “LIARS HELL,” described as filmed in Edmonton, is a signal of participation in that process-heavy reality. You don’t end up in those credits by accident; you end up there by showing up, taking attempts, and being part of a crew that can actually finish a project.

Esposito’s editing credit in “A Lukewarm Minute” adds another layer: influence in freeskiing is often created by people who can both ski and shape how skiing is presented. Editing is its own craft—selecting angles, pacing, music timing, and which moments actually communicate style. Even when an athlete isn’t a global name, being involved in the production side can make them a key contributor to a scene’s identity, because the edit is the artifact the outside world sees.

Geography that built the toolkit

The Alberta and Edmonton-area freeski environment tends to produce a specific toolkit: strong rail skills, high comfort with firm snow, and an emphasis on repetition because many sessions are built around shorter laps and night riding. That kind of training background often translates into crisp timing on takeoffs and a willingness to commit to features that are more “technical” than “huge.” It is an environment where filming can happen regularly, because the hills are close and the crew can stack sessions without needing a destination trip every weekend.

Edmonton also sets the table for urban/street skiing. A city-based project requires more than skiing ability; it requires scouting, adaptability, and a tolerance for uncertainty. When a rider’s public credits include both park-session style edits and a street project described as Edmonton-based, it’s fair to say the geography encourages versatility—park polish when the features are built, and street ingenuity when winter turns the city into an option.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

There is not enough reliable public information to list confirmed sponsors, specific ski models, or official partnerships for Esposito, and it would be inaccurate to invent them. What can be discussed responsibly is the practical equipment logic implied by the kind of skiing he is documented in. Park and street freeskiing usually demands durability, a predictable feel for switch skiing, and edges that can handle repeated impacts. Street sessions, in particular, can be brutally hard on gear because surfaces and landings are rarely ideal.

Esposito has also appeared in the freeski community as someone who talks gear in a practical, durability-focused way, including discussion of brands like ON3P in the context of how skis hold up to heavy use. For progressing skiers, the takeaway is not “copy a setup,” but “think like a filmer.” If you want to ski park and street consistently, prioritize boot fit, reliability, and a tune that matches what you actually ride. Your best “partner” is often your crew—who films, who helps reset, and who pushes you to make the landed version look clean.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about riders like Matteo Esposito because freeskiing’s most replayable moments often come from scenes that are not headline-driven. The credits tell a simple story: an athlete involved in edits across multiple years, contributing both skiing and, at least once, the editing work that turns raw clips into a watchable piece. That is how local culture becomes visible beyond a single hill or a single winter.

Progressing skiers should care because the pathway is relatable and instructive. Start with small hills, stack repetitions, learn how to make tricks look calm, and eventually bring those skills into street features when you have the crew and conditions to film. Esposito’s documented appearances in park sessions and Edmonton-based street skiing projects point to a version of freeski progression that is built on consistency and craft—exactly the things that make videos worth rewatching.

Profile and significance

Nevin Tarnowski is a freeski rider and editor whose public footprint is rooted in the Edmonton, Alberta scene—specifically the kind of park and street skiing culture that thrives on repetition, crew energy, and self-made video projects. He has released multiple season edits under the handle CHU-TANG_CLAN, and he is also credited as a skier in Edmonton street projects such as “LIARS HELL” and “LAZY MARY.” That combination matters in freeskiing because the sport isn’t only defined by contest results; it is also defined by the riders who document their winters, develop a recognizable style, and help give a local scene its identity.

His significance is best described as scene-level and verifiable: a consistent contributor to the Edmonton park/street ecosystem across multiple seasons, with edits and appearances that map a real timeline of progression. For fans who like street skiing, urban rail style, and the “small hill, big creativity” approach to freeski, Tarnowski is a name that connects directly to the places and crews that keep those winters moving.

Competitive arc and key venues

Tarnowski’s arc is documented more through projects than podiums. His season edits span years of riding, and the descriptions attached to those projects tie him strongly to Rabbit Hill—a local hill in the Edmonton area known for terrain-park laps and the kind of night-session culture that’s perfect for filming. He has repeatedly acknowledged the park crew and the people filming his clips, which is a telltale sign of a rider operating in that community-driven lane where friends, shovels, and camera time are as important as ideal conditions.

His edits also show that his skiing hasn’t been limited to one backyard park. In the mid-2010s, he released webisode-style content tied to a “dream season” in Summit County, Colorado, documenting riding at Keystone Resort and Breckenridge Resort. That matters for context: riders who split time between a small home hill and major destination resorts often develop a useful blend of skills—tight, technical rail comfort from short laps, plus speed management and bigger-feature confidence from larger parks.

More recently, his name appears in Edmonton street projects that reflect a different kind of “competition”: the battle against winter timing, access, and repetition. Being credited in street films like “LAZY MARY” (filmed over the 2022–23 season) and “LIARS HELL” signals that he’s part of the kind of crew-based process where progression is earned through returning to spots, stacking attempts, and landing the same trick cleanly when it counts for the camera.

How they ski: what to watch for

Tarnowski’s strongest, most reliably documented lane is park-and-rails skiing with a street sensibility. That usually means tricks chosen for cleanliness and readability: controlled approach speed, balanced body position on the feature, and exits that look intentional rather than saved. Even without needing a detailed “trick list,” you can learn a lot by watching the fundamentals that make street and park clips look professional. Pay attention to how early the speed decision is made, whether the upper body stays quiet, and whether the landing carries forward momentum instead of scrubbing sideways.

He has also been candid in his own project framing—using themes and self-awareness rather than pretending every clip is perfect. In one season edit, he built the concept around “knuckles,” acknowledging the reality that coming up short happens, then turning it into part of the story instead of hiding it. That attitude fits a filmer-friendly style: it’s about staying committed, learning from misses, and keeping the run or the spot productive until a clean version happens.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Tarnowski’s biggest influence sits in the overlap between skiing and storytelling. He has credited multiple filmers across his edits and has also been listed as the editor on at least one of his season projects, which places him in that valuable role of rider-editor: someone who not only performs the skiing, but helps shape how the skiing is presented. In modern freeski culture, that’s a serious contribution. Edits don’t just show tricks; they define pacing, emphasize style, and make a local hill feel like the center of the universe for four minutes.

Resilience shows up in the timeline. He has released edits that were described as “overdue,” covering previous seasons rather than only pushing what’s newest. That sounds small, but it’s a real indicator of long-term commitment: the winter-to-winter grind of filming, collecting clips, and finishing projects even when life, school, or work reduces riding time. For a scene like Edmonton’s, that kind of persistence is often the difference between a fleeting moment and a culture that stays visible.

Geography that built the toolkit

Edmonton-area freeskiing produces a distinctive toolkit. When your home base is a smaller local hill like Rabbit Hill, you learn to maximize short runs: quick resets, many attempts, and a technical relationship with rails and compact park builds. That environment is ideal for street-style fundamentals—precise pop, balanced slides, and the ability to repeat a trick until it looks clean instead of merely landed.

Add in trips to mountain destinations like Banff Sunshine Village—set inside Banff National Park—and you get the other half of the skill set: speed, scale, and the kind of bigger terrain that demands confident takeoffs and landings. Tarnowski’s documented mix of Edmonton-local filming and resort seasons in places like Keystone Resort and Breckenridge Resort fits a path many riders follow: build the technical base at home, then translate it to larger parks when the opportunity appears.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

There is not enough reliably verifiable public information to state a confirmed sponsor list or exact gear setup for Tarnowski, and it would be wrong to guess. What is clear from the type of skiing he is associated with is the kind of equipment logic that usually supports it. Street and rail-heavy freeskiing tends to reward durability, predictable swing weight, and a balanced stance that feels natural both forward and switch. In cold, repetitive local-hill conditions, consistency matters more than novelty: a boot fit that stays locked, a tune that matches rails and firm snow, and skis that feel the same on attempt one and attempt twenty.

His edits also show a practical lesson for progressing skiers: the “partner” that matters most early is the crew. Filming, building features, and keeping a park session productive is often what turns progression into something visible. If you want to ski like a rider whose winter is built around edits, treat your setup as a reliability tool, not a fashion statement—because reliability is what lets you keep trying until the clip is clean.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans should care about Nevin Tarnowski because he represents a real, verifiable slice of freeskiing: the rider who builds a name through seasons of edits, local-park consistency, and street-film participation rather than a contest résumé. His connection to the Edmonton scene and to Rabbit Hill is especially relevant for anyone who understands how much creativity can come out of a smaller hill when the park crew is motivated and the local community keeps showing up.

Progressing skiers can learn from his pathway because it’s replicable. You don’t need perfect mountains every day to get better; you need reps, a controlled approach to rails and jumps, and the patience to film honestly. Watch for the details that make his clips work—speed discipline, clean posture, and exits that stay composed—and you’ll understand the fundamentals that separate “I did it” from “it looks good.”

Profile and significance

Wyatt Beaudoin is a Canadian freeski athlete from Alberta whose public footprint is built around park progression, community-driven events, and a growing presence in street and rail-focused filming. Rather than arriving through the headline pipeline of World Cup start lists or Olympic qualification cycles, his name shows up where a lot of modern freeski careers quietly begin: regional competition results, local hill terrain parks, and crew-based video projects that document day-to-day progression.

Two things make him worth tracking early. First, he has verifiable competition roots in Alberta’s freestyle system, appearing in published event results tied to Freestyle Alberta. Second, he has credible “scene” validation: he was named Youth Winner at the 2024 Pro Bowl Riding (PBR) Session held at Sunshine Village, and he is credited as a skier in an Edmonton street edit titled “LIARS HELL,” filmed and edited by Parker Guimond. That mix of park credibility and street documentation is a common early marker for athletes who can grow into well-rounded freeskiers with both contest skill and video style.

Competitive arc and key venues

Beaudoin’s competitive record that’s easily verifiable in public documents starts young. He appears in age-group slopestyle results from March 2018 at Pine Valley Snow Resort in the Tawatinaw Valley region, which aligns with Alberta’s grassroots structure where smaller hills host early-season contests and skill-building events. By early 2020, he appears again in published men’s freeski slopestyle result documents connected to a Sunridge Ski Area event in the Edmonton region, with results formatted in a way that also references FIS-style competitor codes. The key takeaway is not a single score; it’s that he stayed in the system across multiple seasons and venues, which matters in a discipline where consistent reps and coaching feedback often decide who keeps progressing.

His most visible event result to date is cultural rather than purely competitive: Youth Winner at the 2024 PBR Session at Sunshine Village. PBR is known for a looser, session-first format that rewards creativity and flow in a terrain-park environment, closer to how many freeskiers actually ski day to day. Winning a youth category in that setting signals that he can show up, adapt to a feature set built for filming and style, and stand out among peers in a high-energy session environment.

How they ski: what to watch for

Based on the publicly credited street edit work and the types of events he has appeared in, Beaudoin’s most reliable descriptor is “park-and-rails oriented freeski.” That doesn’t mean he is only a rail skier, but it does suggest his progression has been shaped by terrain parks, short-run repetition, and the technical discipline needed to make street features look controlled rather than survived.

When you watch a developing park skier like Beaudoin, the most revealing details are usually the boring ones: approach speed control, posture through takeoff, and whether the skier can keep a quiet upper body while the lower body does the work. On rails, look for clean entries, minimal arm-waving, and exits that stay balanced enough to set up the next hit. On jumps, look for consistency and landing composure rather than the single biggest trick. In freeski slopestyle and big air culture, progression is public, but longevity is built on repeatability.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Beaudoin’s filming credit in “LIARS HELL” places him inside a recognizable part of modern freeski culture: the local street crew. Edmonton is not a “resort town” in the classic sense, so street skiing there tends to be practical and resourceful, built around rails, spots, timing, and crews that are willing to shovel, hike, and repeat. Being named among the skiers in that project indicates he’s participating in the kind of self-driven filming that often becomes an athlete’s long-term calling card, especially if contest results are still early-stage.

His PBR Youth win also hints at a different kind of resilience: the ability to ski well under a session spotlight. Session-based events are less predictable than two-run contests. Features get rutted, speed checks change, and the social pressure can be real. Standing out there suggests comfort with the social side of freeski performance: skiing with other crews, dealing with cameras, and keeping composure when the “best trick” energy is high.

Geography that built the toolkit

Alberta produces freeskiers in a distinctive way. The province has major mountain destinations a few hours away, but many athletes grow up doing a huge percentage of their training on smaller, colder, more repetitive local hills. In Beaudoin’s case, the publicly documented venues point to the Edmonton region and the Tawatinaw Valley area as early anchors, plus the Banff region for higher-profile sessions at Sunshine Village. That combination often creates a specific toolkit: strong rail basics from high-rep terrain parks, plus the ability to scale up to larger features and bigger mountains when opportunities appear.

It also shapes style. Prairie and foothills park skiing often rewards efficiency: quick laps, tight features, and limited time to overthink. When skiers from that environment move into larger parks, they tend to bring disciplined fundamentals and a comfort with repetition. That pathway fits the observable arc from early age-group slopestyle results, to a competitive-looking slopestyle event at Sunridge Ski Area, to session recognition at Sunshine Village, and finally to a street-skiing credit tied to Edmonton.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

There is not enough reliably verifiable public information to state specific personal sponsors or a confirmed ski setup for Beaudoin, and it’s important not to guess. What can be said, based on the type of skiing he is publicly associated with, is what typically works for athletes mixing park laps and street rails. Most skiers in that lane prioritize durable twin-tip skis, bindings mounted near center for switch balance, and a tune that’s rail-friendly, often with detuned contact points to reduce edge hang-ups.

His PBR Session win happened at an event supported by recognizable industry brands and local shops, including 4FRNT, 4West Co, Every Man Jack, Ski West, SPY Optic, 686, and Bear Street Outfitters. That matters for fans in a practical way: events like this are often where young skiers build relationships with the people who support local scenes, even before any formal “team” announcements exist.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Beaudoin is a good name for freeski fans to file under “emerging.” The verified story so far is clear and grounded: he has documented roots in Alberta slopestyle events, he won a youth category at a respected session-style park event at Sunshine Village, and he has a visible connection to street skiing through an Edmonton-based project. That is exactly the stage where an athlete’s next two seasons tend to matter most, because the gap between “local standout” and “regional name” is usually built on consistency, more filming, and showing up at the right events.

If you’re a progressing skier watching his trajectory, the lesson is simple: strong fundamentals plus real community visibility can be as important as a single big contest result. Pay attention to the terrain parks and sessions that keep appearing around his name, and to whether his next edits show cleaner style, harder features, or more variety. In freeski slopestyle, big air, and urban/street skiing, those small shifts are often the earliest signal that an athlete is about to move up a tier.