GET IN THERE

THE UN­WIT­TING MOTTO OF THE FU­TURE OF YES­TER­DAY MOVIE, PRE­SENTED BY THE COZY BOIS OF TO­MOR­ROW

Transworld Snowboarding - - CON­TENTS - WORDS: TAY­LOR BOYD

The Cozy Bois of To­mor­row present “The Fu­ture Of Yes­ter­day”

I come to on a padded bench de­signed to max­i­mize the sleep­able sur­faces in an over­crowded va­ca­tion rental, my feet inches from the still-dream­ing mind of Tor Lund­strom. Stum­bling over a cou­ple stray boots and past a ta­ble more ac­cu­rately de­scribed as a rolling tray, I make my way to the kitchen to as­sess my op­tions. I’ve got at least an hour to sit with­out sus­te­nance and caf­feine—that or pil­lage some­one else’s break­fast items while they sleep. At least the deck of this house in the woods is a nice place to en­joy a glass of wa­ter.

Had any­one been awake to see me star­ing at the food and Fol­gers they would’ve told me to, “Get in there!”

This is the Cozy Bois’ re­sponse to ev­ery­thing.

Should you have a beer? Get in there.

Try an ex­tra ro­ta­tion? Get in there.

Eat some­one else’s food? Get in there, home­boy.

Halldór Hel­ga­son calls ev­ery­one home­boy, which has some­how mor­phed into Cozy Bois.

By now, the crew is up. Well, ex­cept for Max Buri. Tor is doing yoga, Ulrik Badertscher rolling spliffs, Halldór an­swer­ing emails, Ethan Morgan brew­ing cof­fee, Kevin Back­strom cook­ing a vegetable souf­flé, and filmer Theo Muse show­ing me clips from yes­ter­day.

“We started off with the Home­boys of To­mor­row, then it turned into Cozy Bois ‘cause cozy is a nice word,” says Ethan.

Theo elab­o­rates, “We were like, ‘let’s just keep it cozy, do what we want to do, not worry about all the weird things that peo­ple worry about. Let’s not worry about the pres­sure.’”

THE FILM

At risk of ru­in­ing any magic for the view­ers at home, it’s worth not­ing that the cast of snow­board films is of­ten dic­tated more by spon­sor dol­lars and pol­i­tics than gen­uine re­la­tion­ships. The Fu­ture Of Yes­ter­day is the an­tithe­sis to this.

Max is up now too. He’s wan­der­ing around look­ing for some­thing.

“It’s dif­fer­ent with other films,” says Max. “You’ve got a few dif­fer­ent crews, and maybe you mix it up, but you mostly stay with the same peo­ple all sea­son, then at the end, the footage all gets edited into one film.”

This isn’t how snow­board movies were made in the be­gin­ning. They were the prod­uct of a crew of ac­tual friends who rode to­gether, mostly at the same spots, typ­i­cally with the same filmer. With more money came more rules and frag­men­ta­tion. The Cozy Bois’ ethos hear­kens back to the early days. The Fu­ture of Yes­ter­day is a crew movie in the realest sense.

“A lot of peo­ple would say a trick’s not worth film­ing if some­one’s al­ready done it or if there’s a track on the knuckle, or what­ever. We don’t give a shit,” says Tor. “Peo­ple can do the same trick. We’re go­ing to fig­ure it out to­gether, and it’s more about the ses­sion. We don’t take it too se­ri­ously. Of course we want to do tricks that mean some­thing to us. But do we [as snow­board­ers] think we’re so im­por­tant that some­one shouldn’t be able to do the same thing?”

“There are go­ing to be so many tracks and back­packs in the movie,” Theo laughs.

By now we’re packed in a van, on our way to the moun­tain, bar­rel­ing up a wind­ing high­way walled in by mas­sive ev­er­greens on ei­ther side. Ethan’s mas­sive speaker equipped with back­pack straps is blast­ing Scooter, a Ger­man dance group led by a bleach-haired man who looks like he could be Ethan’s fa­ther. He flew from Europe with this thing.

“What’s nice about this group is that we’ve been trav­el­ing to­gether the whole sea­son and have spent a lot of time to­gether in some re­ally tight ar­eas, but we don’t get sick of each other,” ex­plains Tor.

“Yeah, I know what you mean, bro. We could go on va­ca­tion for­ever,” Max says in the slow­est, stoni­est Swiss drawl. It’s hard to tell if it’s an in­ten­tional ref­er­ence to the Be­yond Medals catch­phrase or not. Max is the type so ca­sual about ev­ery­thing that it’s of­ten tough to de­ci­pher what’s done with in­tent and what just lines up for him. He’s never ready on time, but he al­ways makes it where he needs to be.

In the Tim­ber­line park­ing lot, Mount Hood as the back­drop, Max is search­ing the van for his back­pack, as the rest of the crew gath­ers their es­sen­tials be­fore be­gin­ning the walk to the chair­lift. Dis­cus­sion turns to the ap­pro­pri­ate quan­tity of bev­er­ages to bring, and Halldór re­minds us of an equa­tion he’s worked out over the years. “Re­mem­ber, one beer is equal to thirty min­utes of stretch­ing,” he quips. It’s a clas­sic Halldórism.

“I al­ways say, ‘We can send it and get fucked up, but then we ac­tu­ally have to get stuff done,’” Tor tells me. “That’s what I feel like ev­ery­one’s men­tal­ity is. And that’s how this whole thing works.”

“It’s so crazy how ev­ery­body is so in­sanely in­di­vid­ual,” Ethan chimes in. “Ev­ery­body has their own per­son­al­ity, and it all comes to­gether, and that’s what makes it so cool.”

The Fu­ture Of Yes­ter­day crew grew up in var­i­ous lo­cales around Europe’s western half. Snow­board­ing brought them to­gether at an early age, and the bonds have re­mained to the point they’re at now—a group of friends who hap­pen to be some of the world’s best snow­board­ers. “We go way back, all of us,” says Halldór.

Hours deep into a ses­sion on a size­able step-up, most the crew has re­tired to grill hot dogs. Hall­dor and Ethan, how­ever, are still hik­ing. “He never stops,” says Tor of Halldór. “He just keeps go­ing and go­ing.”

Kevin and Tor’s ties are well pub­li­cized. The in­dus­try has a ten­dency to lump them to­gether as a unit, and not un­de­servedly. To­gether, they com­prise Be­yond Medals— which, if you’re un­aware, is a ref­er­ence to the duo’s part­ing with Swe­den’s na­tional snow­board team and its ac­com­pa­ny­ing Olympic as­sump­tion, based on be­hav­ior that was deemed un­pro­fes­sional. Read: par­ty­ing. Where you find one, the other is usu­ally nearby. Their path is sim­i­lar, but the man­ner in which they travel it is quite dif­fer­ent. Tor­nado is the looser of the two, KB more cal­cu­lated.

“If Kevin is down to hit some­thing you know it’s good,” says Tor.

KB and Tor­nado’s re­la­tion­ship goes back a decade. Be­fore the two Swedes were set to start at a snow­board school to­gether in Nor­way, Tor called Kevin and his mom dropped him off at Kevin’s house for the weekend. Over the next ten years, the two would spend more time around one an­other than any­one else.

“I met you guys when we were so tiny,” Halldór adds in ref­er­ence to Kevin, Tor, and Ulrik.

“I met Tor and Kevin prob­a­bly ten years ago at Rook­iefest in Livi­gno, Italy,” says Max.

“Such lit­tle shit kids!” Tor in­ter­jects, be­fore con­tin­u­ing, “There were less lim­its, way less lim­its.”

“The hang­overs didn’t even ex­ist,” adds Kevin.

“HE’S THE LOOSEST SNOW­BOARDER IN THE WORLD AND BEST SNOW­BOARDER IN THE WORLD. THAT’S A PRETTY GOOD COMBO TO HAVE.” — ETHAN, ON HALLDÓR

“HE’S THE MOST MO­TI­VATED FILMER EVER. HE MAKES YOU WANT TO RIDE BET­TER. I’VE FILMED WITH PEO­PLE WHO WILL TELL YOU [HES­I­TANTLY], ‘YEAH, THAT WORKS.’ IT’S THE OP­PO­SITE WITH THIS GUY. HE’S AL­WAYS PUMPED AND MAKES EV­ERY­ONE WANT TO GET IT.”— HALLDÓR, ON THEO.

“It was nice back then ‘cause you didn’t have peo­ple film­ing you all the time. It was just sto­ries—like ac­tual sto­ries, not In­sta­gram sto­ries,” Hall­dor adds.

“It’s ac­tu­ally a bum­mer too. It’s fun to post shit, but at the same time, now when some­thing fucked up hap­pens there’s proof of it on the in­ter­net right away,” says Tor.

The dy­namic cre­ated by Hel­ga­son and Morgan in close prox­im­ity is elec­tric. It’s a re­la­tion­ship that dates back to 2009 at the An­dreas Wiig in­vi­ta­tional.

“Wiig In­vi­ta­tional! That’s where I met you guys too!” shouts Tor—a mem­ory that elic­its ex­cite­ment from the en­tire crew.

“We were all in the con­test! And we split the money, but Torstein wasn’t down,” re­calls Halldór. “Then we took him down in the end!”

THEIR THE­ORY IS BASED ON THE IDEA THAT SUC­CESS IS NOT MU­TU­ALLY EX­CLU­SIVE— THAT SNOW­BOARD­ING NOT A ZERO SUM GAME, THAT THE ACHIEVE­MENT OF ONE DOESN’T DE­TRACT FROM THAT OF AN­OTHER. IN FACT, IT’S QUITE THE OP­PO­SITE.

THE PHI­LOS­O­PHY

Long be­fore they were the Cozy Bois, they were shar­ing con­test win­nings be­cause they each cared more about a col­lec­tive good time than a sin­gle per­son’s suc­cess, and this ap­proach has re­mained the tenet phi­los­o­phy for the crew dur­ing the decade or so they’ve known each other. Why cel­e­brate an ac­com­plish­ment when you can cel­e­brate plu­ral ac­com­plish­ments? This at­ti­tude has trans­lated to the group’s ap­proach in film­ing for The Fu­ture Of Yes­ter­day. In an in­creas­ingly cut­throat in­dus­try, with con­tract scarcity seem­ingly in­creas­ing each sea­son, com­pe­ti­tion isn’t lim­ited to con­tests. It ex­ists in the film world as well.

“When you’re film­ing with an­other com­pany, you think you might have a chance to have a good video part, and you try as hard as you can to have opener or en­der,” ex­plains Ethan. “In this case, I feel like we we’re all just film­ing to­gether and hav­ing a good time. No one is try­ing to out­shine the oth­ers. Ev­ery­one is just pumped for each other.”

“If some­one doesn’t get the trick, then the rest of us are help­ing. We all have one com­mon goal, and we work to­ward it to­gether. It’s not like we just want to do our own thing,” adds Tor.

As we be­gin the ar­du­ous trek out of the zone in the dark, Ethan is our sav­ior. His back­pack speaker blast­ing Boiler Room ses­sions pro­vides the mo­ti­va­tion to com­plete what we con­clude is the most bru­tal hike any of us have made all sea­son. With­out those blar­ing 180 beats per minute, we might still be out there.

Their the­ory is based on the idea that suc­cess is not mu­tu­ally ex­clu­sive—that snow­board­ing is not a zero sum game, that the achieve­ment of one doesn’t de­tract from that of an­other. In fact, it’s quite the op­po­site. Any­one in this crew will tell you that Halldór is the best snow­boarder, not even out of these seven, but, ac­cord­ing to them, out of the 7.6 bil­lion peo­ple on this planet. His ex­tra­or­di­nary tal­ent only el­e­vates ev­ery­one else, and his ap­proach to ev­ery­thing is the em­bod­i­ment of this com­mu­nal con­cept. In a snow­board world driven by in­di­vid­u­al­ism and clique­ness, the Cozy Bois couldn’t be fur­ther from that.

“HE’S RE­ALLY GOOD AT STRETCH­ING AND DOING YOGA AND STUFF. HE’S ALSO THE HYPE MAN. HE KEEPS EV­ERY­ONE PUMPED.” — ULRIK, ON ETHAN “HE CAN BE 100 OR MI­NUS 100. HE’S FULLY ON, OR HE’S FULLY ASLEEP. HE’S SO MO­TI­VATED AND NEVER COM­PLAINS. ON OR OFF HIS SNOW­BOARD, YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT’S GO­ING TO HAP­PEN NEXT.” — KEVIN, ON TOR

It’s 10:45 pm when we be­gin to wind down High­way 26. Drum ‘n’ bass still bump­ing, we ex­ist in an en­dor­phin-laden state of ex­haus­tion, melt­ing into the seats of a 15-pas­sen­ger van lit­tered with damp gear be­fore ar­riv­ing at the only res­tau­rant still serv­ing food. Kevin or­ders a burger and of­fers a bite to Ethan, a veg­e­tar­ian, telling him it’s meat­less. Ethan’s as­ton­ish­ment at its fla­vor turns to dis­ap­point­ment when Halldór chimes in, at­tempt­ing to cor­rob­o­rate Kevin’s claim. “It’s made of shrimps!” he says, as though the shell­fish cat­e­go­rizes as a vegetable.

JA­PAN

Film­ing for The Fu­ture Of Yes­ter­day took place across a sea­son that can roughly be di­vided into six seg­ments, start­ing in Ja­pan with the world’s top-ranked For­mula 1 driver, Lewis Hamil­ton. It’s no ex­ag­ger­a­tion to say the Cozy Bois live a rock­star lifestyle, though it was an en­ergy drink by a dif­fer­ent name that set them up with the celebrity race­car driver for an early sea­son pow trip in the North Is­land.

“He’s prob­a­bly not even sup­posed to snow­board be­cause of his job,” says Kevin. “But Lewis had just won the For­mula One tour or what­ever, so Mon­ster set up this trip where he could bring a cou­ple of friends, and we met up with him, and they took us cat board­ing, snow bik­ing, surf­ing, all this crazy shit.

I in­quire as to a de­scrip­tor for Hamil­ton. Kevin quickly re­sponds: “fast.”

Theo elab­o­rates, “It was ac­tu­ally su­per sick to watch him. He wanted to try lit­er­ally ev­ery­thing these guys were doing. They would be scop­ing some­thing out for a bit, and he’d be up there get­ting antsy while they’re walk­ing out to the edge of a drop or some­thing. As soon as some­one was like, ‘Lewis, you can go,’ he’d be drop­ping in.”

“Does he land?” I ask.

“No,” says Theo. “Not at all. He was so close to get­ting the back­flip though.”

ITALY

Vi­su­al­ize the quin­tes­sen­tial Euro­pean ski vil­lage. Nes­tled at the bot­tom of the Dolomites, Passo Rolle is what you’re dream­ing up.

“It’s the sick­est scenery you could ever imag­ine. And we were there for a week, and we must’ve got like twenty shots. Ba­si­cally our sea­son has been a cy­cle of su­per pro­duc­tive, su­per un­pro­duc­tive,” say Theo.

This is how it goes, and the crew echoes this no­tion in a col­lec­tive shout. It’s a phe­nom­e­non not ex­clu­sive to The Fu­ture of Yes­ter­day. Spend time with any film crew, and this pat­tern will emerge. Suc­cess ebbs and flows.

One par­tic­u­lar af­ter­noon in Passo Rolle turned into a high­light for ev­ery­one in at­ten­dance. Ethan ex­plains. “The guys de­cided to set up an après ski event with the lo­cals. Quite a few peo­ple showed up, and ev­ery­one was there to drink beers and party with the crew, but we got ev­ery­body at the bar to put on their snow­boards and come take a cou­ple laps. So there were like fifty peo­ple and us just lap­ping at sun­set in the most beau­ti­ful light. One of the guys came up to us af­ter and was like, ‘Yo, I was fuck­ing cry­ing while I was rid­ing with you guys. That was the sick­est mo­ment of my life!’ And it was for all of us too! Just rid­ing with so many peo­ple, all so stoked.”

The ap­proach­a­bil­ity of this crew is no­table. In­ter­ac­tions with peo­ple out­side of their cir­cle, fans or not, are al­ways gen­uine.

“Then Ethan was sign­ing balls and tit­ties!” some­one shouts.

If in­clu­sive­ness is an over­ar­ch­ing theme for the Cozy Bois, un­wit­ting and bla­tant dis­re­gard for con­ser­va­tive sex­u­al­ity is an­other. Both balls and breasts have been known to come out when the Cozy Bois are in town.

RV DE­PRES­SION TOUR

It’s no se­cret that Halldór has a bit of an RV ob­ses­sion. He’s even got a sig­na­ture cock­tail—com­prised of ev­ery liquor on the shelf—that pays homage to his fa­vored mode of trans­porta­tion. This ob­ses­sion dates back to the same era dur­ing which this crew got ac­quainted, but this sea­son Halldór took his love of the recre­ational ve­hi­cle a step fur­ther. He bought his own.

As the RV trip is brought up, ev­ery­one is quickly and loudly talk­ing over one an­other to dis­cuss how hec­tic it was. Then Max chimes in. There aren’t enough vow­els in any of these words to ac­cu­rately de­pict the way in which he ex­plains the trip from his per­spec­tive. “It was chill. It was just va­ca­tion, man.”

Put a group of good friends in an RV with no real sched­ule to speak of. What could pos­si­bly go wrong? And I don’t mean that in the tongue-in-cheek sense of the ex­pres­sion; it seems a cer­tain recipe for good times. So what hap­pened?

“HE’S THE SUL­TAN OF STYLE. HE HAS A CLEAR VI­SION OF WHAT HE WANTS TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT. IF KEVIN SIGNS OFF ON SOME­THING, YOU KNOW IT’S A GO. I’LL TRY TO GIVE HIM AN IDEA FOR A TRICK OR SOME­THING, AND HE’LL BE LIKE, ‘NAH DAWG, THINK I’LL DO THIS IN­STEAD.’” — THEO, ON KEVIN

WHEN OP­POR­TU­NITY ARISES THE AN­SWER WILL AL­WAYS BE THE SAME.

“We never had the pa­tience to stay un­til it got good,” says Tor.

Halldór elab­o­rates, “We were al­ways one day or two ahead of the storm. There would be a meter com­ing in the next day or two, then we would sail out be­fore that. Noth­ing ever hap­pened, just no snow. Then we were some­where in Slove­nia with the RV, just cruis­ing over there. And af­ter three days of doing noth­ing, me and Ethan went and hit this street spot.”

As Ethan elo­quently puts it, they “both got fucked.”

From here, the tour in­volves Venice in pour­ing rain, miss­ing a storm in Cervinia, a con­tin­ual prom­ise of snow cou­pled with bad tim­ing, and an ap­pro­pri­ate sce­nario which in­volves watch­ing the Olympics, RV Juice, and get­ting “com­pleeetely de­stroyed.”

When­ever Halldór ut­ters this phrase, which is of­ten, the se­cond syl­la­ble is al­ways elon­gated. “Com­pleeetely de­stroyed.”

But no one got as fucked as Kuske, the other filmer set to work on this pro­ject.

“A LOT OF TIMES I’LL IN­TRO­DUCE SOME­ONE TO MAX AND THEY’RE LIKE, ‘HOW MUCH WEED DOES HE SMOKE?’ BUT IT’S NOT ABOUT WEED OR WHAT­EVER. HE KNOWS HOW TO RE­LAX AND EN­JOY THE MO­MENT. HE’S GOOD AT RE­MIND­ING ME THAT. NEVER STRESSED. IT SOUNDS CHEESY, BUT HE’S SO GOOD AT BE­ING PRESENT.” — TOR, ON MAX

“We waited for two days af­ter that hang­over day,” Hall­dor ex­plains, “It was sunny, and we were like, ‘Al­right, no cam­eras al­lowed for this one; ev­ery­one has to en­joy this run, just cruis­ing.’”

Kevin con­tin­ues, “I started rid­ing, and I felt it was sharky, so I went out to this cor­ner, and Kuske hit a shark, tum­bled, hit an­other shark, and broke his back.”

“It looked like a per­fect pow run,” says Tor, but, Theo con­tin­ues, “By the time ev­ery­one had been walk­ing around him to get him out, it was just rocks, no snow.”

“That was the first sunny day in so long, then that hap­pens. Shoutout to Kuske. He was sup­posed to be with us all sea­son. He would be with us here right now,” con­cludes Tor.

For­tu­nately, Kuske is on the mend from the ac­ci­dent and will be back in the moun­tains by the time this win­ter hits.

FRANCE

As dis­cussed in re­gard to snow­board-based film projects, suc­cess tends to fol­low de­feat. Per­haps that’s true in gen­eral. The re­bound to the De­pres­sion Tour came via a place called La Plagne. Nes­tled in the Alps, not far from the Ital­ian bor­der, this French ski area and the hospi­tal­ity of the Alpo­holics Chalets pro­vided the ul­ti­mate venue for pro­duc­tiv­ity. Unan­i­mously, La Plagne comes up as the high­light of the sea­son.

“It’s this crazy re­sort, and there are these sink holes so we’re tak­ing speed from a hill and land­ing in one of these low points. We hit three jumps into one, and I think the crew landed 19 tricks in one day,” says Theo

“No, twenty!” Hall­dor re­minds us.

“That’s right,” Theo re­calls. “Two blackouts in one ses­sion.”

If you’re un­fa­mil­iar with Halldór’s black­out rule, it goes like this: For ev­ery ten tricks Halldór gets on film, he al­lows him­self to let loose or get “com­pleeetely de­stroyed.” When ap­plied to the col­lec­tive Cozy Bois, the rule goes into ef­fect when, as a crew, they get ten tricks in a day. It doesn’t mat­ter who lands what, so long as the trick count to­tals ten be­tween Hall­dor, Ethan, Kevin, Tor, Max, and Ulrik.

In that case, ev­ery­one has earned a black­out. It’s yet an­other ex­am­ple of the col­lec­tive men­tal­ity that fu­els the Cozy Bois’ en­deav­ors, on-hill and off.

So here’s the La Plagne recap. There was a trem­ble-in­duc­ing step­down, a wedge that sent ev­ery­one to the knuckle, ex­cept for Halldór, who stomped an NBD first try, and a smaller jump that pro­vided the venue for a num­ber of nude tricks, in­clud­ing an­other NBD Hall­dor—if you count clothes, or lack thereof, as part of the trick—and enough pro­duc­tiv­ity to war­rant mul­ti­ple blackouts.

LAAX

There are few re­sorts in the world that cater to snow­board­ing in the way LAAX does. This real-life snow­board par­adise is the clos­est thing to a home the Cozy Bois have to come back to in the win­ter­time. Be­tween trips, you’re likely to find the crew lap­ping the flow­ing setup on-hill by day and in the base­ment disco at the Rid­ers’ Ho­tel by night.

As Kevin ex­plains it, “I feel like out of ev­ery re­sort in the world, they’re the one that’s push­ing snow­board­ing the most—ev­ery­thing from the vil­lage to the freestyle academy. They even have a skatepark. The Rid­ers’ Ho­tel is built for snow­board­ers, and that’s where we had a room for the sea­son.”

Tor adds, “The guy who owns LAAX, he comes from snow­board­ing, and he loves it. They’re decades ahead of ev­ery re­sort in Europe. We’ve trav­eled the whole world, vis­ited ski re­sorts ev­ery­where, and noth­ing beats LAAX. The park is in­sane, three dif­fer­ent half­pipes, tran­nies ev­ery­where. Big jumps, back­coun­try. LAAX is the sick­est re­sort on earth. I’ve been rid­ing there since I was twelve years old too.”

So what bet­ter place to re­group be­fore head­ing state­side to fin­ish the movie? Shoot the in­tro the film while there? Sure.

“Ev­ery­one dressed up like fe­male char­ac­ters. The idea was punk teens work­ing at a ho­tel, so we all had a po­si­tion like dish­washer or re­cep­tion­ist—all just work­ing this job that they’re not that pumped on, then they’d walk out and go snow­board­ing, and then we built a big line up in Mar­i­oland. We built a big rhythm line where ev­ery­one was rid­ing to­gether.”

If you’ve ever won­dered what a fe­male Halldór would like, you’ll know within the first minute of The Fu­ture Of Yes­ter­day.

ORE­GON

This brings us to present. Mount Hood’s ex­pan­sive side­coun­try and the lo­cal knowl­edge of pho­tog­ra­pher Darcy Bacha has lured the crew to the base of one of snow­board­ing’s most iconic moun­tains. The week at Mount Hood has been spent cut­ting blocks, pack­ing lips, and send­ing hips. With spring­time light in the sky un­til late evening, ses­sions go well past 8 pm, with two-hour head­lamp- and Sound­boks-fu­eled hikes back to the re­sort bound­ary putting us at a res­tau­rant min­utes be­fore the kitchen’s clos­ing, where we sit in a daze un­til sus­te­nance ar­rives, be­fore pil­ing back into a van, then fall­ing asleep on some semi-soft space in our rented home among damp items that will hope­fully dry be­fore re­peat­ing this process the fol­low­ing day.

But the he­do­nis­tic po­ten­tial of the city an hour be­low is call­ing. Port­land pro­vides the venue for cel­e­bra­tion that en­sues af­ter con­sec­u­tive ten-shot days. The black­out rule is in ef­fect.

As the van bar­rels west, Halldór in­sists we stop at a gas sta­tion. He re­turns with a smirk and a bag of malt bev­er­ages once known for their caf­feine con­tent. Know­ing full-well how dis­gust­ing these things taste but not that the US gov­ern­ment man­dated a for­mula change years ago, he touts the sup­posed stim­u­lant ben­e­fits in re­gard to the day ahead of us and sug­gests we all have some.

One day will turn to two, be­fore be­com­ing three. Sched­ules are no more than a loose sug­ges­tion for the Cozy Bois, and when op­por­tu­nity arises the an­swer will al­ways be the same.

“Get in there.”

“WAY BACK, ULRIK TOLD ME SOME­THING THAT CHANGED MY PER­SPEC­TIVE. HE SAID, ‘YOU DON’T NEED TO WASTE YOUR TIME FEEL­ING SOME­THING OUT FOR­EVER. JUST GO STRAIGHT INTO IT AND TRY TO DO IT FIRST TRY.’ THAT MADE SO MUCH SENSE TO ME, AND HE HAS THE SKILLS TO BACK IT UP. IT’S IN­SANE; HE JUST MAKES STUFF HAP­PEN.” — HALLDÓR, ON ULRIK

Halldór, fully erect with the Cozy Bois be­low.

Kevin is cal­cu­lated. Af­ter a long bout of as­sess­ment, he stepped to this mon­ster and stomped this back five. Down that path lies the Alpo­holics Chalets, where the en­su­ing cel­e­bra­tion af­ter this day car­ried well past evening.

Ethan goes dou­ble with­out pro­tec­tion.

Tor’s tweaks make only slightly more sense when you re­al­ize there’s a yoga reg­i­men in­volved.

Ulrik Badertscher, the Funky Mon­key, swing­ing for the sky in the Mount Hood side­coun­try.

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from USA

© PressReader. All rights reserved.