I started skiing at age three and switched to snowboarding by the time I had turned thirteen. My brothers excelled in different skiing disciplines – one on telemarks, one on alpine skis – so it fit for me to start snowboarding. Growing up in the mountains, the three of us would climb up local hillsides and huck ourselves into the abyss, not thinking too much about it. It’s just what we did. It’s how I grew up.
In spite of this, I would say I’ve always had a hesitation for mountain adventures. I’m comfortable among the mountains but the desire to seek more danger and exposure has never really been my cup of tea. But growing up, myself, my brothers and my friends were always doing just that. I believed for a long time that if you do something daring, you’ll be rewarded.
I suppose the camera is where this story all begins. When someone pulls out the camera, people generally go bigger, try harder, and increase the risk. That’s exactly what happened the day I got caught in an avalanche.
It was a calm, overcast day with twenty inches of fresh snow. We had decided to ride the “safer” backcountry zone at Mt. Baker, Colorado. The snow was heavy and wet and the avy report indicated considerable risk. Dropping in, I thought about the camera. My brother Zack was filming from the other side of the mountain. I was imagining the final footage, danger be damned. Normally on this run, I would have pulled out for a rest in the safe zone but I continued for the camera. I entered the next slope with too much speed and put on the brakes.
I was blindsided immediately by a ferocious wave of churning snow. It took me head over heels down the mountainside, leaving me buried upside down. I couldn’t move. The air around my face was becoming warm and I was getting sleepy from the lack of oxygen. Thankfully, my board was sticking out of the snow slightly and my brothers and friends were able to find me. They got me out in three minutes, undoubtedly saving my life.
I was one of the lucky ones, but the whole incident shook me. I tore my ACL in the Fall, giving me some time to think about everything – the skiing industry, my role in it, the impact of performing for the camera. I decided to take a step back from it all – skiing and filming. I didn’t want to contribute to something dangerous – I wanted to remove myself from the equation. The reason is simple: I feel crazy, weak and unhappy when I’m filming with people I love while they risk their lives. The only power I have is to say, “I won’t film it.”
It wasn’t long after I’d quit the whole thing though that I began receiving offers to produce ski films professionally. My brother was also seeing more success as a professional skier, affording more opportunities to film him. Over the next few years I struggled with this internal battle – I wanted to be part of the crew but I was also terrified of what could go wrong.
Eventually, I decided to join Zack on a film adventure to Alaska. I realised that I wasn’t really achieving anything by just sitting back and refusing to be a part of it – those I would film would be placing themselves in danger whether or not I was shooting. From this realisation, “Kodak Courage” was born.
A production company approached me about producing creative content about “the power of film” and we decided that focusing on the camera’s effect on skiing and snowboarding would be a good way to showcase this concept. I wanted to spark conversations about the impact of the camera on athletes’ judgement and invite the question of whether or not it is really worth the risk to get the shot.
Since my return to the mountain, I think I’ve learned how to balance the risk with the reward more effectively. There are alot of things I do now to mitigate some of the risk, but I think the biggest change has been from knowing when to – and having the confidence to – step back and say, “No – this isn’t a good idea”. It ensures that I don’t contribute to or encourage other people to take those risks either, thereby giving me a peace of mind that I didn’t have before.
Would I go back and change that avalanche experience if I could? I wouldn’t be in the place I am today if I did. What I experienced left me with an ultimately positive and more sensible outlook on life, and for that I am extremely grateful.
To read more about Sam’s story, click here.
Photographs by Sam Giffin and Aaron Adams.
