Tell Me I Belong

Profile and significance

Christian Gander is part of the new wave of European street and park skiers whose impact comes more from dense, replayable film projects than from traditional contest podiums. Based in the Austrian scene and constantly on the road with a tight crew of like-minded riders, he has built a reputation as a technically gifted jib skier who is just as comfortable organizing a project as he is front and center in the final cut. From early season edits to fully fledged street movies, his name appears again and again in the credits of some of the most core urban projects coming out of Europe.

In recent seasons, Gander has been a driving force behind street films like “URLAUB | G-Love,” a twenty-minute European montage that runs wall-to-wall with heavy clips, and “15 SAUCES,” a homies-for-homies street movie where he is listed both as project lead and skier. He is also one of the featured riders in “Common Language,” a multilingual street mission to Poland, and in “Tell Me I Belong,” the Bungee Breakers film shot in Stockholm that has gone on to festival selections and international coverage. Add in an earlier SuperUnknown semi-finalist appearance and personal edits like his 2017/18 season recap and Australian park clips, and you get a skier whose trajectory has been steadily upward inside the core scene.

Competitive arc and key venues

Although street projects are the heart of his profile, Gander has shown that his rail skills hold up in judged environments as well. At the Absolut Park Spring Battle in Flachauwinkl, one of Europe’s benchmark rail contests, he placed fifth in the men’s freeski Best Rail rankings with a strong 87-point score, standing shoulder to shoulder with a field packed full of specialists. The result underlines what his film parts already suggest: he is not just creative, he is technically precise under pressure.

Competition, however, is only one strand of his story. Absolut Park remains an important venue because of its long, varied rail lines and progressive setups, but much of Gander’s “arena” is urban space. In “Common Language,” he joins a small crew on a nine-day street trip to Poland, turning city architecture into handrails, close-outs and wallrides. “URLAUB | G-Love” continues that European theme with spots scattered across multiple countries, highlighting his ability to adapt to different cities and conditions. Further afield, clips from places like Perisher in Australia show him bringing the same butter-heavy style to southern-hemisphere park laps, proving that his skiing translates cleanly from streets to purpose-built terrain parks.

How they ski: what to watch for

Christian Gander’s skiing is a blend of strong park fundamentals and a very modern sense of how to use architecture. On rails, his stance is compact and centered, with subtle edge movements doing most of the work; nothing looks forced or rushed. He prefers to approach features with just enough speed to keep the line flowing, then lets precision rather than brute force carry him through kinks, gap-to-rails and awkward transfers. Surface swaps, quick direction changes and presses on both nose and tail are common, but they are always placed where the feature naturally invites them rather than jammed in for the sake of difficulty.

Several moments stand out when you watch his recent projects. In “URLAUB | G-Love,” his switch hit onto a high wallride is a clear highlight: he comes in blind, sets his edges early, rides high on the wall and exits in control into a tight landing zone. In edits from Perisher and earlier season recaps, you see the same instincts applied to park features—long butters across boxes, smooth reverts and spins out that make simple rails look like new puzzles. What ties it all together is his body language: shoulders calm, hands quiet, upper body relaxed even when the feature is unforgiving. For progressing skiers studying his footage, those details—the timing into the rail, the way he holds presses and how he rides out landings without panic—are where his style really lives.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Street skiing is a test of resilience long before the camera is rolling, and Gander’s project list shows that he has embraced that grind. Films like “15 SAUCES” and “URLAUB | G-Love” are credited as projects from the riders themselves, not top-down brand assignments, which means logistics, scouting and decision-making fall heavily on the crew. That includes long nights of shoveling, dealing with uncertain snow levels, and returning again and again to the same spot until the trick is finally landed. The finished edits compress those efforts into a few minutes of footage, but the consistency of his presence across multiple projects hints at a strong capacity to keep motivation high when conditions are less than ideal.

His influence extends beyond his own shots because he repeatedly steps into the project-builder role. As a named driver behind “15 SAUCES” and a central figure in “URLAUB | G-Love” and the Bungee Breakers production “Tell Me I Belong,” he helps set the tone for how these films look and feel, not just how they ski. That combination—rider and organizer—matters in a scene where many of the best projects are grassroots. For younger skiers paying attention to credits as well as tricks, Gander demonstrates that being a core rider today often means contributing ideas, logistics and structure, not just showing up to hit the rail.

Geography that built the toolkit

Gander’s toolkit is rooted in central European snow culture. Austria provides the backbone, with parks like the setup at Absolut Park offering deep rail lines, progressive features and a strong community of like-minded riders. Long seasons there have given him the chance to refine his rail game on meticulously shaped features, learning how different snow speeds, angles and lighting conditions affect the same trick on the same rail.

The streets, however, are just as important. Urban segments filmed across Poland, Sweden and other parts of Europe expose him to a rotating cast of handrails, ledges, banks and walls, each with its own quirks. A kinked rail in a Polish housing block, a long staircase in Stockholm, or a rough concrete bank in a small Austrian town all demand slightly different timing and speed management. Meanwhile, seasonal migrations to places like Perisher allow him to reset in a pure park environment, experimenting with new ideas in slushy, forgiving conditions before bringing refined versions back to the streets. The result is a skier who can read both steel and stone with equal confidence.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Public information about Christian Gander focuses more on his projects and crews than on sponsor rosters, but his skiing itself makes clear what kinds of equipment choices matter for his style. Street and park work at this level demands skis with durable edges and bases, a flex pattern that is supportive underfoot yet forgiving in the tips and tails, and mount points that allow him to lean hard into presses without feeling unstable. Watching how he repeatedly hits kinked rails, close-outs and wallrides across films like “URLAUB | G-Love,” “15 SAUCES” and “Common Language,” it is obvious that he trusts his hardware to survive seasons of heavy use.

For progressing skiers inspired by his approach, the lesson is less about specific logos and more about building a system that suits urban and park riding. A well-balanced twin-tip ski, mounted close to center, combined with reliable bindings and boots that flex smoothly rather than abruptly, will make it easier to explore the kind of butters, presses and sideways landings that define his segments. Durable outerwear and basic impact protection are also part of the equation when concrete and steel are always close by. In other words, the “Gander template” is about equipping yourself for many attempts on the same feature, not just one lucky shot.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans of modern street and park skiing care about Christian Gander because he embodies the core, crew-driven side of the sport. His name shows up in projects that feel authentic: homie movies built from road trips, late nights and a genuine desire to ski spots that look fun as well as impressive. Films like “URLAUB | G-Love,” “15 SAUCES,” “Common Language” and “Tell Me I Belong” have all helped shape the current European street conversation, and Gander’s presence in each of them is anything but incidental.

For progressing skiers who see their future in edits and urban missions more than in bibbed contests, his path is a clear roadmap. He honed his skills in parks, proved their technical quality at events like the Spring Battle rail contest, and then repeatedly invested his energy into street projects with friends. He shows that you can build a meaningful freeski career by focusing on crews, spots and films instead of chasing ranking lists. Whether someone first discovers him through a short clip of buttery laps in Australia or a full street part premiering at a festival, following Christian Gander offers a close look at what it means to live and breathe modern European street skiing.

Profile and significance

Christian Moser is a Swiss freeski rider whose name has become synonymous with creative street segments and compact, rewatchable park edits. Based in the Bernese Oberland and raised on laps at Gran Masta Park in the Adelboden-Lenk region, he moved from local park clips into a steady run of urban projects with the G-Love crew. Recent releases like “URLAUB” (2024) and “Known Territory” (2025), plus earlier parts such as “Urbanskistrasse,” have introduced him to a wider audience well beyond Switzerland. He’s not a points-chasing World Cup athlete; his profile is built in the places where modern freeskiing actually lives for many fans—crew films, rider-driven web drops, and one-off showcases that reward clean, repeatable skiing on real features.

Competitive arc and key venues

Moser’s résumé reads film-first rather than bib-first, but there are still clear milestones. A widely viewed SLVSH game filmed at CopenHill in Copenhagen helped spotlight his calm-under-pressure rail work on an unusual dry-slope park. Between filming blocks, he’s stacked repetitions at destination snowparks across Europe that reliably show up in his edits. The home laboratory is Gran Masta Park, where long rail decks and smart spring builds hone momentum management and line construction. Trips to LAAX add bigger, faster lines and firm-morning timing, while visits to Sweden’s Kläppen Snowpark provide high-frequency laps that turn rail accuracy into muscle memory. In the Pyrenees, nights at Sunset Park Peretol reinforce the compact, transfer-friendly rhythm that shows up in his street parts. Across these venues the throughline is the same: repetition on real features and builds that make sense on camera.

How they ski: what to watch for

Moser skis with measured economy—movements you can read at full speed without slow-motion. On rails, look for a centered stance and quiet shoulders so spin-ons, swaps, and pretzel exits appear deliberate rather than forced. He approaches conservatively until the exact moment of commitment, which keeps lock-ins stable through kinks and small gaps; exits land with enough glide to keep momentum alive for the next feature. On jumps—whether a small urban step-down or a maintained park booter—he places the grab early and holds it, keeping the axis obvious for the camera and, in jam formats, for judges. Rotation scales to the day’s speed window, a choice that protects landing quality and run continuity.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Street filming compresses the margin for error: short in-runs, imperfect landings, limited light. Moser’s parts show a repeatable process for handling that pressure—scout, measure, shovel and salt, test speed, refine approach, then roll on the make that will read clean. That discipline is why his clips travel well online and why his shots often anchor a crew segment’s pacing. The same habits carry into live showcase formats like SLVSH or rail-jam sessions: trick choices are reproducible, grabs are visible, axes stay tidy. By insisting on tricks that look inevitable, he’s become a go-to reference for viewers who want to learn how modern freeskiing should read on camera.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains his polish. The Bernese Oberland provides a dense winter canvas and night-lap rhythm, with Gran Masta Park supplying long, repeatable lines that reward speed control and line construction. Sessions at LAAX add bigger jump shapes and firmer mornings that sharpen grab duration and axis clarity. Sweden’s Kläppen Snowpark brings short-lift repetition and high-frequency rail variety, turning both-way entries and pretzel exits into second nature. In Andorra, Sunset Park Peretol contributes the evening-session energy and transfer lines that map directly to his urban workflow. Even the odd dry-slope session at CopenHill has value: managing speed and friction on plastic makes steel and snow feel simple by comparison.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Moser’s output doesn’t revolve around headline sponsorships, but the setup principles behind his skiing are useful for any progressing freeskier. A true-twin park ski mounted near center supports both-way spins and predictable pretzel exits on kinked rails. Keep a consistent tune with a thoughtful detune at contact points to reduce hang-ups on steel without dulling pop for lip-ons or step-downs. Choose boots with progressive forward flex and firm heel hold so landings finish stacked when the snow is fast or chattery. Bindings should be set for predictable release across repeated impacts. None of this is flashy—yet it’s the recipe that lets a line read the same from a municipal handrail to a spring booter.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Moser matters because he turns fundamentals into footage you want to replay. His lines teach momentum management on multi-feature rail decks, early-and-held grabs that keep rotations obvious, and a calm upper body that preserves control when conditions tighten. If you’re learning to “read” modern freeskiing, note how he sequences rails so the final hit still has room to breathe, and how he scales rotation to the available speed instead of gambling on late corks. If you’re building your own projects, study the process as much as the trick list—measure the spot, test speed, then commit to a make that looks inevitable on camera. That blend of clarity and craft is why Christian Moser has become a reliable reference within Europe’s street-leaning freeski scene.

Profile and significance

Jakob Ebskamp is a Danish freeski athlete, filmmaker and event architect who has become a central figure in the new wave of European street and dryslope skiing. Based around Copenhagen and the broader Scandinavian scene, he splits his time between hitting urban handrails, building creative dryslope setups and directing films that travel quickly through the core freeski world. Rather than chasing World Cup points, his influence comes from projects that skiers actually rewatch: tightly edited street movies, community-driven events and dryslope contests that turn an artificial hill into one of the liveliest arenas in modern freeski.

Ebskamp is best known as the director and driving force behind the Bungee Breakers crew, a Danish collective that describes itself as a creative playground for ski and snowboard films, events and installations. Their work ranges from early projects like “BUNGEE BREAK” and the full movie “Promised Land” to the Poland-based street film “Common Language” and, most recently, “Tell Me I Belong,” a Stockholm urban project that follows five friends on a street-ski mission. These films have moved from homie edits to festival programs at places like iF3 and High Five, establishing Jakob as both a capable skier and one of the most recognizable young directors in the European freeski scene.

Competitive arc and key venues

Jakob’s story is less about bibbed competition and more about building his own arenas. One of the key pillars of his career is the Scandinavian Team Battle, the summer dryslope contest held on the artificial ski run at CopenHill in Copenhagen. As event organizer and Team Denmark rider, he helped evolve the format into a festival-style showdown featuring national teams from across Scandinavia and beyond, complete with open qualifiers, live music and an afterparty on top of the city’s waste-to-energy plant. By 2025, the event was drawing over a thousand spectators and coverage from international outlets, with Ebskamp both competing for Team Denmark and editing the official highlight reel.

Alongside the Scandinavian Team Battle, he and Bungee Breakers have built their own snow-based festival calendar. The Bungee Breakers Open in Trysil, Norway, brings hundreds of Danish skiers and snowboarders to Norway’s largest ski resort, turning Trysil into a week-long mix of park laps, rail jams and late-night parties. Social posts from Jakob describe recent editions as some of the biggest Danish-led freestyle gatherings ever held in Norway, highlighting how far the project has come from its early, low-budget days. In between those anchor events, he appears in and helps organize smaller gatherings, pre-season trips and local sessions, tying the Danish scene together through both film and face-to-face meetups.

How they ski: what to watch for

On snow, or on plastic, Ebskamp’s skiing reflects the environments he rides most: dryslope features at CopenHill, tight Danish streets and compact urban zones in places like Stockholm and Polish cities. In films such as “BUNGEE BREAK,” “Common Language” and “Tell Me I Belong,” he gravitates toward rails, transfers and improvisational use of architecture rather than huge jumps. He approaches features with controlled speed, then squeezes as much as possible out of each spot, whether that is turning one handrail into multiple hits or adding a redirect off a wall before dropping into a landing only a few meters long.

What stands out is not just trick difficulty but how he treats each set-up as a small puzzle. Many of his clips are built around creative approaches rather than straightforward “A to B” slides: coming in from an unusual angle, using a ledge as a pre-hit before the main rail, or finding ways to turn short, flat urban zones into multi-stage lines. On the green dryslope at CopenHill, you see him adapt the same instincts to synthetic snow, using transfers between boxes, unusual entries onto tubes and playful features that show off the surface’s fast, consistent glide. For progressing skiers watching his work, the key detail is how often he finds a new way to ski a spot that others might have written off as too small or too awkward.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Resilience in Jakob’s case is closely tied to his role behind the camera. Street skiing and dryslope events both demand long hours and a tolerance for setbacks: rails dry out, weather changes, security shows up, and tricks that looked simple in the head take dozens of tries to put down. His films make that process look smooth, but the credits and event reports tell a different story, with him repeatedly listed as director, editor and organizer as well as athlete. “Common Language,” for example, followed four skiers from four different countries through nine intense days in Poland, navigating language barriers, thin snow and run-ins with local authorities while still rounding up enough clips for a full film. “Tell Me I Belong” brings the same persistence to Stockholm, this time with a five-rider cast and a narrative focused on camaraderie and shared hardship.

Those projects have made Ebskamp a reference point in core media. Line Skis has highlighted “Common Language” on its channels, and “Tell Me I Belong” has been picked up by major freeski outlets and festival programs, where it is described as one of the standout street films of the season. At the same time, Downdays, Freeskier and Newschoolers coverage of Scandinavian Team Battle repeatedly mentions him not just as a competitor but as the architect behind the event’s evolving format. For younger riders and aspiring filmmakers, that mix of roles makes him an influential example of how one person can help shape both the on-screen look of modern freeski and the real-world spaces where it plays out.

Geography that built the toolkit

Jakob’s toolkit is anchored in Denmark, a country better known for flat farmland than for alpine terrain. That limitation pushed him and his crew toward two key playgrounds: urban architecture and the man-made mountain of CopenHill. In Denmark’s cities, stairs, banks and short handrails become winter canvases once the snow arrives, providing the setting for early Bungee Breakers projects like “BUNGEE BREAK.” On CopenHill’s synthetic slope, he can ski year-round on Neveplast, refining rail tricks, speed control and creative lines on a hill wrapped around a power plant overlooking Copenhagen’s harbor.

Beyond home, his films track a widening circle of terrain. “Common Language” takes him and his friends to Poland, where they explore housing blocks, industrial estates and plazas that offer different shapes and snow textures than they find at home. “Tell Me I Belong” relocates the crew to Stockholm, where long stair sets and steep urban run-ins give the film its distinctive look. North of Scandinavia, the Bungee Breakers Open in Trysil anchors his winter in a true mountain resort, with park lines and classic Norwegian pistes giving a contrast to the flatland and dryslope environments of Denmark. Put together, those locations explain why his skiing looks so adaptable: it has been shaped by improvised spots in flat cities, by plastic slopes above Copenhagen and by big, snowy hills further north.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

While Ebskamp does not push himself as a traditional “signature pro” for a single ski brand, his projects reveal a network of long-term partners and event sponsors. Bungee Breakers films and film-fund materials emphasize collaboration with companies who believe in street and community projects, with recurring support from brands tied to the Scandinavian Team Battle and Bungee Breakers Open. At CopenHill, that includes the venue itself, whose urban mountain concept turns a waste-to-energy plant into a year-round playground for skiing, hiking and climbing. Dry-slope specialists and energy sponsors help make the Scandinavian Team Battle possible, while outerwear, ski and binding companies line up behind the athletes and the event’s media footprint.

For skiers looking at his work for practical lessons, the important point is not any one logo, but the way his hardware and partnerships are aligned with his goals. Street and dryslope segments demand skis with tough edges, durable bases and a flex pattern that allows repeated impact on steel and plastic without constant gear failure. Events like the Scandinavian Team Battle and Bungee Breakers Open rely on partners who understand that culture-building, crowd energy and creative formats matter as much as podium photos. If you want to follow a similar path, Jakob’s model suggests choosing equipment and supporters who actually fit the environments you want to ski, whether that is a synthetic slope, a downtown stair set or a snowpark in Norway.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about Jakob Ebskamp because he represents a version of freeski that feels very current: crew-driven, media-savvy and deeply rooted in community. His films showcase real street missions with friends, not staged superpark shoots. His events at CopenHill and in Trysil turn contests into festivals that mix spectators, live music and late-night hangouts. And his own skiing, while rarely the loudest in the room, is consistently creative and thoughtful, emphasizing line choice and spot use over pure stunt value.

For progressing skiers, especially those coming from flat countries or small hills, his path is particularly relatable. Rather than waiting for big mountains to appear, he helped build a scene around the resources at hand: an artificial hill above a power plant, a handful of Danish streets, and a crew of friends willing to shovel and scheme for each clip. From there he moved into cross-border projects in Poland and Sweden, built festivals that draw international pros to Copenhagen, and created films that now appear in global festival lineups. Following Jakob’s work is not just a way to watch another street edit; it is a blueprint for how creativity, community and persistence can turn unlikely terrain into a serious freeski hub.

Profile and significance

Jonas Hofer is a Swiss-based park and street skier whose name has been gaining traction in the core freeski world through a steady flow of self-produced edits and tightly crafted urban segments. Splitting his time between the freestyle culture of the Bernese Oberland and trips to cities further afield, he has carved out a niche as a skier who does a bit of everything on a project: riding in front of the camera, shooting behind it and cutting the final edit. His work on Newschoolers under the “JonasGH” handle, alongside appearances in recent street films, has made him one of the emerging European riders to watch if you care about where urban skiing is headed.

Hofer’s most visible calling card so far is “GRINDelwald – Streetpart 2024,” his first full street part, filmed largely in what he calls his “second hometown” of Grindelwald. In parallel, he features in “Tell Me I Belong,” a Stockholm-based street film from the Bungee Breakers crew that follows five friends from different corners of Europe meeting up to ski urban together. That short has entered the international festival circuit, with official selections at events like iF3 and the High Five Festival, bringing his name to an audience well beyond the regular Newschoolers feed. For a ski-video platform, Hofer is a textbook example of the new-school European street rider: less about contest résumés, more about crews, edits and spots.

Competitive arc and key venues

Rather than building his path through slopestyle rankings or federation rosters, Hofer has followed the classic film-first trajectory. Early on, his skiing showed up in playful park edits shot around the Swiss Alps: spring laps in the Snowpark First above Grindelwald, mellow sessions at Crans-Montana and early-season footage from Skyline Snowpark at Schilthorn. Those videos already carried his fingerprints as both skier and editor, with credits listing him for camera work and cutting as well as riding. Over time, the park-focused clips evolved into more concept-driven projects, culminating in his dedicated street part “GRINDelwald,” where handrails, walls and ledges in and around the village became his main playground.

At the same time, he has plugged into a wider European crew network. Collaborations with filmer Silvan Borra and riders like Elias and Bastian Gatt, Kai Jussel and Christian Moser link him to a broader “under-the-radar but very serious” park and street scene that roams between Switzerland, Austria and beyond. In that context, “Tell Me I Belong” marks an important step in his arc: a multi-rider urban project filmed in Stockholm, presented by the Bungee Breakers collective and shared widely by outlets and partners including Line Skis. The film’s presence at festivals such as iF3 Montreal and the street-focused sessions at High Five positions Hofer not just as a local park kid, but as part of a pan-European street conversation.

Key venues reflect that blend of alpine and urban environments. In the mountains, the freestyle setups at Snowpark Grindelwald First, Skyline Snowpark at Schilthorn and the terrain parks of Crans-Montana have been recurring stages for his park footage. Down in the valley, streets, stair sets and plazas around Grindelwald and other Swiss towns provide the raw material for “GRINDelwald.” Further north, the winter architecture of Stockholm—long handrails, kinked ledges and hard-to-find landings—turns into the canvas for “Tell Me I Belong,” showing that his toolkit travels well once the snow falls in the city.

How they ski: what to watch for

Hofer’s skiing is defined less by sheer spin count and more by how he uses every inch of a feature. On park days, he tends to approach rails at a measured but confident speed, entering with a centered stance and letting small edge movements do the work. Nose presses, tail taps and surface swaps appear regularly, but they rarely feel forced; instead, they are woven into lines that flow naturally from one rail to the next. Watching his Grindelwald park edits, you’ll see him turn simple flat-down rails and tubes into multi-stage puzzles, squeezing in swaps or pivots where other riders might just slide straight through.

In the street, this mindset gets even more interesting. “GRINDelwald – Streetpart 2024” and his co-lab projects with Christian Moser show him comfortable on kinked handrails, close-out features and narrow landings that leave little margin for error. He likes to ride high on the rail, holding presses longer than seems possible, then dropping out at just the right moment to find a tiny tranny or packed snow pad. On walls and banks, he often goes higher than expected, using redirect moves and late pivots to send himself back into the fall line. What to watch for is his body language: shoulders relaxed, hands quiet, and a habit of riding out landings with minimal arm flail, which makes even sketchy spots look surprisingly controlled.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Street skiing demands a particular kind of resilience, and Hofer’s output makes that clear. A single three-second clip in “GRINDelwald” can represent hours of shoveling, salting and trial runs, not to mention the logistics of scouting spots around his home region while waiting for the right snow level. The same holds for “Tell Me I Belong”: five riders from different countries converge on Stockholm, battle weather, security and injuries, and still walk away with a film cohesive enough to make festival programs across Europe and North America. That ability to keep morale high and ideas flowing across long, cold nights is as much a skill as any rail trick.

Behind the camera, Hofer has steadily moved from cutting his own park edits to helping shape larger projects. Newschoolers descriptions and festival credits frequently list him for filming and editing roles alongside riding, especially on the Grindelwald-based pieces and the collaborative street work he does with Borra, Moser and others. This dual identity—as both skier and storyteller—amplifies his influence. Younger riders watching “GRINDelwald” or “Tell Me I Belong” can see not only what he does on skis, but also how he frames that skiing in terms of pacing, music and spot choice, reinforcing the idea that modern freeski careers often depend as much on creative direction as on on-snow talent.

Geography that built the toolkit

Hofer’s skiing is deeply tied to the geography of the Bernese Oberland and central Switzerland. Grindelwald, tucked beneath the north walls of the Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau, offers both a classic alpine resort and a dense village full of winter-friendly architecture. Above town, the park and natural features at Grindelwald First give him a laboratory of jumps, boxes and rails with big-mountain views. Below, stair sets, road gaps and handrails become part of the same mental map, reimagined once the snow piles up on sidewalks and stone walls.

Elsewhere in the Alps, terrain parks at Crans-Montana and Schilthorn add variety to his training grounds: different builders, different rail inventories, and different snow and light conditions that force constant adaptation. Trips to urban centers like Stockholm expand that geography again, introducing him to northern European winter textures—icy run-ins, thin coverage and compact landings—that demand sharper edge control and more precise speed management. The result is a skier whose style feels equally at home on a soft spring rail line with a glacier backdrop or on a midwinter handrail where every flake of snow has to be shoveled into place.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Hofer’s filmography puts him regularly in projects associated with Line Skis and the Bungee Breakers crew, particularly through “Tell Me I Belong,” which has been shared on Line’s channels and highlighted in festival guides. That connection makes sense when you look at how he skis: his approach demands symmetrical, park-oriented skis with enough stiffness underfoot to stay stable on big landings, but with forgiving tips and tails that can handle presses, nosebutters and sideways slides on steel and concrete. Durable edges and bases are non-negotiable when you are sessioning city rails one week and snowpark tubes the next.

For skiers inspired by his edits, the most useful takeaway is not a shopping list of models, but the logic behind his setup. A street-ready park ski with a balanced flex profile, mounted near center, pairs well with bindings tuned for reliable retention and boots that let you flex smoothly without collapsing. Add in basic impact protection, a helmet and outerwear tough enough to survive repeated contact with metal and stone, and you have the baseline needed to start exploring spots the way he does. Watching how confidently Hofer leans into presses, recovers from small mistakes and keeps his skis sliding cleanly through kinks is a good reminder that trustworthy equipment is part of what makes creative skiing look effortless.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans of modern park and street skiing care about Jonas Hofer because he embodies the do-it-yourself spirit that has always powered the scene. He films with friends, edits his own work, and focuses on lines and spots that feel authentic to his home terrain rather than chasing the biggest possible rail for a one-off clip. His presence in a festival-backed short like “Tell Me I Belong” alongside his solo “GRINDelwald” part shows a rider who can carry both crew projects and personal vision, contributing to a small but growing wave of Swiss and European street films built from the ground up.

For progressing skiers, especially those who see themselves more in urban missions and park laps than in bibbed competitions, Hofer’s trajectory offers a relatable path. Start with local parks, learn to use every corner of a rail line, then look at your town with fresh eyes once the snow falls. Build small edits, learn to shoot and cut, connect with riders who share your vision, and gradually step into larger projects like “Tell Me I Belong” that bring together multiple scenes and styles. Following Jonas Hofer’s work is not just about watching another highlight reel; it is a way to understand how a modern European street skier can turn a love of spots, friends and self-made videos into a growing presence on the global freeski radar.

Profile and significance

Markus Boa is a park and street skier rooted in the Danish and wider Scandinavian freeski scene, known for blending serious rail skills with a sense of humor that stands out on camera. He came up through small contests and local sessions before becoming part of the Bungee Breakers collective, a crew that has grown from local Copenhagen edits into one of the most visible names in European urban skiing. In recent years, Markus has stepped into the spotlight through his role in “Tell Me I Belong,” the Stockholm street film by Bungee Breakers that follows five friends on a winter-long mission. The film has been picked up by major festivals and core media, and reviews single out his crash-turned-comedy sequence in the intro as one of the most memorable moments in recent street skiing.

Beyond that standout project, Markus appears throughout the Bungee Breakers film catalog, including full-length releases like “SEE YOU SOON” and crew edits such as “POP THE COLLAR,” “HORNDOGS UNLIMITED,” “SUPER MOTIVATED” and “WHOLE LOTTA GANG SHIT.” These films take the crew from Danish dryslopes to Swiss glacier parks and Norwegian resorts, building a consistent picture of Boa as a rider who can adapt his skiing to whatever snow, plastic or concrete is available. Off the skis, his name also shows up in the credits of “THE LEAGUE – A Future for Freeskiing,” where he works on communications for the documentary that tells the story of the Jib League contest series. That mix of athlete and behind-the-scenes contributor makes him an increasingly important figure in the modern European jib world.

Competitive arc and key venues

Markus’s competitive arc starts at the grassroots level. An early highlight is a second-place finish in the ski junior category at the Badass Box Session in 2014, a rail contest in Aarhus, Denmark, where he shared the podium with other up-and-coming local riders. That kind of event is typical of his early years: small, core gatherings focused on rails, boxes and style rather than on official federation points. Those sessions helped him sharpen the timing, balance and creativity on metal that later became his trademark in films.

As the Bungee Breakers crew grew, Boa’s “arena” shifted toward more expansive stages. The Scandinavian Team Battle at CopenHill in Copenhagen, a dryslope showdown that brings national squads and invited riders to an artificial hill built on a power-plant roof, has featured him in multiple editions, with his name in the recap credits alongside other key figures from the crew. Bungee Breakers projects have also taken him to Swiss resorts like Laax for spring park laps and to Zermatt for summer glacier sessions, where the crew stacks clips among some of Europe’s most iconic peaks. In “Tell Me I Belong,” the key venue becomes the streets of Stockholm, where stairs, handrails and tight run-ins are turned into a full urban part that has been screened at festivals including iF3 and High Five. Taken together, his trajectory shows a rider whose competitive instinct is channeled into films and crew projects rather than ranking lists.

How they ski: what to watch for

On snow, Markus Boa skis like someone who has spent years figuring out how to make limited terrain interesting. He is first and foremost a rail skier: comfortable on down rails, kinks, close-outs and improvised handrails that were never meant to be skied. His approach is usually measured rather than reckless; he sets his speed early, lines up the feature with a centered stance, and lets subtle edge changes carry him through the tough parts. Where many riders would simply slide end to end, he tends to look for extra options, adding a press, a quick swap or a small redirect that uses the full length and height of the obstacle.

In edits from Laax and Zermatt, you see that same instinct applied to park features. Boxes become long canvases for butters and nose presses, and simple tubes turn into multi-step lines that might include a tap, a revert and a spin out, all kept within a smooth overall tempo. In “Tell Me I Belong,” the technical side of his skiing is balanced by his willingness to play with image and narrative. The much-talked-about crash sequence early in the film, followed by a deliberately composed reaction shot, shows a rider who is comfortable letting the camera capture both the rough attempts and the final make. For viewers, the most instructive details are how calm his upper body stays on rails and how quickly he regains balance after imperfect landings—two habits that separate sustainable street skiing from one-off hero shots.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Resilience is built into any street skier’s life, and Markus Boa’s trajectory is no exception. Urban clips and dryslope sessions require long hours of shoveling, repeated attempts and the ability to shrug off slams that would end a more casual rider’s day. The Bungee Breakers filmography shows season after season of that commitment: three days of street in Denmark for “BUNGEE BREAK,” long missions that combine backcountry and park in films like “VACAYZION,” Swiss glacier trips, and now the fully street-focused “Tell Me I Belong.” That he remains a regular face in these projects suggests not only technical skill but also a steady capacity to show up, keep morale high and keep trying when conditions are marginal.

His influence extends beyond his individual tricks. In “SEE YOU SOON,” he is credited not only as a skier but also for additional cinematography, contributing to how the film looks as well as how it skis. In “THE LEAGUE – A Future for Freeskiing,” he appears in the communication credits, helping tell the story of the Jib League movement to a broader audience. By moving fluidly between being an athlete, a camera contributor and a communications partner, Markus fits neatly into a generation of skiers who view filming, editing and promotion as part of the same creative process as hitting the rail itself. Younger riders who study the credits of these projects will see his name pop up in multiple roles, reinforcing the idea that building a place in core freeski culture often means contributing behind the scenes as well as in front of the lens.

Geography that built the toolkit

Geography plays a big role in how Markus skis. Coming from Denmark, a country with no high alpine resorts, he learned early to treat architecture and artificial slopes as his home mountains. Rail contests like the Badass Box Session in Aarhus showed what was possible when you import snow into the city, while the year-round slope at CopenHill provided a dedicated playground of plastic, rails and boxes, all wrapped around a power plant overlooking Copenhagen. On that synthetic surface, he and his crew could refine tricks all summer, experimenting with speed, balance and line choice without waiting for winter storms.

As his world expanded, the map added more traditional ski destinations. Spring sessions in the parks of Laax brought high-speed jump lines and long rail setups, offering new ways to test combinations and landings. Summer trips to Zermatt added glacier snow, early-morning hardpack and scenic backdrops to the mix, while the Bungee Breakers Open and other gatherings in Norwegian resorts like Trysil introduced bigger vertical and more varied park design. Most recently, “Tell Me I Belong” transported that toolkit to the streets of Stockholm, where long stair sets, sharp city angles and hard winter light gave his skiing a new visual tone. The common thread across all these locations is adaptability: Boa’s lines always feel tailored to the place, whether that place is a plastic slope on a city roof or a handrail buried in Scandinavian snow.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Public information about Markus Boa focuses more on his crews and projects than on sponsor rosters, but his skiing makes it clear what kind of equipment priorities matter. Street and dryslope work demand skis with durable edges and bases that can survive repeated contact with steel, concrete and synthetic surfaces. A nearly symmetrical, park-oriented shape mounted close to center makes it easier to ride both regular and switch into features, to lock into presses and to recover from landings that are not perfectly aligned. Bindings need to be reliable enough to stay on through rough impacts but forgiving enough not to punish every sideways landing with a pre-release.

Outerwear and protection play a part as well. Long nights in cities and windy sessions on plastic are hard on clothing, so hard-wearing pants, jackets and gloves are more than just a style choice; they are part of making sure he can keep skiing after multiple falls. A helmet is non-negotiable when stairs and concrete are involved. For progressing skiers inspired by Markus and the Bungee Breakers projects, the practical takeaway is that a “street-ready” setup is less about chasing a specific pro model and more about choosing gear that is durable, predictable and comfortable enough to let you focus on the spot, the line and the trick.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about Markus Boa because he represents a very current version of freeski culture: crew-based, film-driven and unafraid to mix serious skiing with self-aware humor. His segment in “Tell Me I Belong” captures that balance perfectly, combining heavy attempts, real slams and a now-famous joke shot that has been highlighted in coverage of the film. Across the broader Bungee Breakers catalog, he is part of a group that keeps pushing the Danish and Scandinavian scene into new spaces—artificial hills, small urban spots, glacier parks and festival screens—while staying grounded in friendship and shared effort rather than in individual ego.

For progressing skiers, especially those from flat regions or small hills, Markus offers a relatable blueprint. He started with junior contests and small sessions, leaned into urban and dryslope possibilities when big mountains were far away, and then used consistent work with a motivated crew to reach international audiences through films and events. Watching his clips, reading his name in the credits and following the evolution from early Danish street edits to high-profile festival films shows how far dedication to local terrain, good crews and creative ideas can take you. In that sense, Markus Boa is not just another name in the scrolling credits of a street movie; he is a clear example of how modern freeskiers can build meaningful careers from places that most people would never label as ski towns.