For our fourth interview of the Frame of Mind Series, we spoke with Solitude Ambassador Harrison Hogan Holley. Harrison is hands-down one of the nicest guys you’ll find on the mountain and is very much responsible for helping the Spread Stoke crew fall in love with Solitude Mountain Resort. Born and raised in Park City, Utah, Harrison grew up competing in freestyle moguls on the Park City Freestyle Team. He then started competing on the Freeskiing World Tour and continues to compete on the Freeride World Tour this season. Between competitions and work, he also spends all season making us drool with his pow shots on Instagram.

Harrison Hogan Holley at Solitude, Utah | Photographer: Eric Dyer

Spread Stoke: Where is your hometown?

Harrison: Park City, Utah.

SS: Who can you usually find yourself on a chairlift with?

Harrison: My good buddy Eric Dyer aka Derr, Benny Mikes, the Spread Stoke ladies or any other members of the Solitude MYST.

SS: Conditioning off the mountain is an essential element to performance on the mountain.  Do you have any training techniques (whether physical or mental) you would like to share?

Harrison: Hate on it as much as you want, but CrossFit has gotten me in the best shape of my life. I haven’t been to any other gym other than Alpenfit in Park City so maybe other gyms fit the “bro” mold that is associated with CrossFit’s negative image, but the coaches at Alpenfit are nothing short of amazing! They focus on knowledge and progress in life outside the gym, making you a better athlete in whatever discipline you enjoy. If you want to get in shape for skiing give it a shot, I swear by it.

SS: What’s been the most challenging aspect of being an athlete?

Harrison: The mental aspect of competitions is by far the most challenging aspect. Nerves can really take over when you are competing. I always say that the worst feeling in the world is standing on top of a comp venue waiting for your start and the best feeling ever is being at the bottom after stomping a good line. Focusing on skiing and having fun in comps always seems to help me ski better.

Harrison Hogan Holley at Solitude, Utah | Photographer: Eric Dyer

SS: Besides shredding the white wintry wave, what else do you enjoy doing?

Harrison: In the summer I love to mountain bike and whitewater raft. Mountain biking helps me keep in shape and there is nothing like rafting to help escape reality.

SS: What is your life motto?

Harrison: “Send it before you send it”. The phrase was created while on tour with my good buddies Connor Pelton and Connery Lundin. It basically means don’t let the present hold you back from the future or vice versa, live life to the fullest, do it all!

SS: What fuel goes into your body before and after a day on the hill?

Harrison: Before skiing: Coffee and a smoothie. After skiing: Beer and mostly pizza.

SS: What does skiing do for your soul?

Harrison: I love getting away from crowds by exploring the mountains which is often the case while skiing (especially since there are no crowds at Solitude), but I don’t see skiing as anything ‘spiritual’ like many people talk it up to be. I think it was a quote in an old TGR or Matchstick movie that said something like “everyone talks skiing up to be this spiritual cleanse, but I look at it more of a funny concept that we hike up a mountain just to go back down and if we are lucky we will have sh!t hit us in the face the whole way down”. I guess I always try to keep things light and comical while on the hill. I’m not very mature.

Harrison Hogan Holley at Grand Targhee, Wyoming | Photographer: Jasper Gibson

SS: Solitude, it’s all in the name.  What are some of your favorite attributes of Solitude and how is it unique from other Utah resorts?

Harrison: More powder per person. There is never the powder panic you get at other resorts where people freak out, push and shove, cram like sardines into trams or track an entire mountain out in an hour. The overall atmosphere is laid back and fun, which is exactly what skiing should be. You can ski untracked snow in Honeycomb days after a storm or get into some of the steepest most challenging inbounds terrain offered anywhere in the world.  If you disagree go hike Fantasy Ridge.

SS: What goes through your mind before, during and after executing or capturing a technical line or feature?

Harrison: Before: Nerves. During: Blackout and/or concentration, I usually can’t remember. After: Stoke! Or a need for redemption. Or, where are my skis?

SS: When you’re not on the hill or working out, what can we most likely find you doing?

Harrison: I bartend at Highwest, so come stop by and grab a delicious Old Fashioned from me and I’ll tell you how much better of a skier I am than you. Just kidding. But really, the Old Fashions are delicious!

SS: Let’s talk 2017 Goals: What can we expect from you for the rest of the year?

Harrison: #1: Stay healthy. #2: Ski often. #3: Defend my title at the PCMR Chinese Downhill.

SS: As athletes, you serve as role models in the outdoor industry.  Any advice, reflections or ideas on the types of things you would like see the outdoor industry strive for?

Harrison: Being from Utah, I would love to see the state recognize the value of its open spaces. This article by Black Diamond Founder, Peter Metcalf perfectly sums up my point.

Harrison Hogan Holley at Solitude, Utah | Photographer: Eric Dyer

SS: What’s bumpin’ in your earbuds?

Harrison: I like my beats like I like my cereal, crunchy.

SS: Spread Stoke’s values are: Do what you love, leave this world a better place than you found it, and spread stoke to those around you.  How do you demonstrate these values?

Harrison: On the mountain I always strive to be the person who brings the morale of the group up. That may be pumping a buddy up on a cool line or most often cracking terrible jokes. Everyone talks about not leaving a footprint on the world insinuating a footprint is a bad thing. I think everyone should strive to leave a footprint on the Earth, but have that footprint be an improvement in whatever you enjoy.

SS: Do you have any shout-outs to sponsors?

Harrison: Sego Ski Co., Soul Poles, Solitude Mountain Resort and Spread Stoke for putting this together. Looking at the list above, I guess anyone else that has a company that starts with an “S” please contact me for sponsorship.

We hope you enjoyed our Frame of Mind interview! Be sure to say “What’s up!” to Harrison on the hill this season and give him a follow on Instagram @harhoghol (seriously though, he ALWAYS gets the shot!).

Stay tuned for our next Frame of Mind interview. If you know someone who should be featured, let us know.

I’m in a dream, one that I don’t want to wake up out of. The ‘flow’ of life has taken us to yet another mystical and snowy village, Kiroro.

Headed out of Kutchan, on our way to Kiroro. Photo: Kade Krichko

Day in the life. Photo: Kade Krichko

We have been fortunate enough to connect with Liam, Kiroro’s athlete manager who has guided us around the mountain, pointing out  local stashes.  Our accommodation is at the Grand Piano Hotel where there is a buffet and a karaoke bar, in which we have all taken turns busting out our best and worse hits.

Kiroro is deep. I have been battling with smiling and not choking on infinite amounts of snow here. The pitches are steep enough to soar through the bottomless and are sprinkled with exotic Japanese trees. The trees are painted white and glow miraculously, even through white outs. After skiing our first day at Kiroro Resort, we indulged in a nice meal, several bottles of wine and met up with K2 female athletes and friends to have a wild karaoke bar night.

Eric Sales getting pitted. Photo: Kade Krichko

Harrison-san getting inverted off a nice pillow. Photo: Eric Dyer

Have you ever experienced an emotion that doesn’t quite fit into any vocabulary description or that you never knew existed? A feeling that transcends through your body, mind, and surroundings, connecting all three at once. A feeling that lifts your energy to a higher vibration, releases the ego and leaves only one thought to harbor… thank you. For many, this feeling has come with accomplishing a grueling hike, looking into a lover’s eyes, or catching endless waves surfing. For me, this feeling recently came into fruition with a hundred thousand snowflakes falling on my face as I looked at my ‘line’ illuminated by a pink sky.

As we side stepped up a ridge at Kiroro, my heart beat increased and body shook with excitement. This feeling was ignited by the stunning views which were enhanced by every turn down a perfect face of untouched snow. Each turn was a mixture of laughs, gasps, and screams of ‘REALLY?!’. When I got to the bottom of the mountain and the daylight was fading, I had become addicted to this feeling. I was fully immersed in it’s peacefulness and I had to keep going. I knew when I looked at the rest of my crew, they were experiencing the same feeling. We returned to our rooms to get ready for a night tour on a slope located behind our hotel.  This zone was perfectly lit by the village’s light pollution.  We skinned up, with our headlamps turned off, no music, just listening to the quietness. It took us 90 minutes to get to the top, where the crew and I looked out over the untracked and just sat, stared, and exchanged looks that summed up our journey.

Skiing down in the dark, barreling through trenches in lit up snow, with not a sound other then the swishing of your skis, was the peak of that feeling. When we got to the bottom, we clicked out of skis and boards, and hugged one another before belting out our cries of joy! The experience was so surreal that we woke up at 4:30 am to do it again.  This time with the morning light shimmering onto the white pallet.  After 14 hours of skiing in the same day, it was ready to pack up our gear and head to Sapporo for our return flight. On our way back we stopped in Otaru for a great meal and a stroll along the coast. I have never been in a coastal town with 6 foot snowbanks along the roads, it was a trip!

Night tour behind the hotel overlooking Kiroro Resort’s lights. Photo: Kade Krichko

The Kiri Krew

Kade and Der kicking around on the beach. Photo: Eric Sales

When we arrived to Sapporo, our tired bodies were able to make one last push to local bars and last trips to 7/11s. In the morning, we were ready to travel back in time to the Wasatch where our friends and family would NOT want to hear about all the pow ;). Goodbye Japan, you have truly changed my mind, heart and way of life.

The last of our memories – literally – in underground train station in Sapporo. Photo: Disposable Camera

READ MORE:

• THE JAPANUARY CHRONICLES – PART 1: 5 BROS AND A TOE
• JAPANUARY CHRONICLES – PART 2: GETTING PITTED IN NISEKO
• JAPANUARY CHRONICLES – PART 3: IS THIS REAL LIFE?

Day two, we overslept. It was only 8 AM but we missed our window of opportunity to climb and ski anything of significance. We conceded that the day would be better served by setting up an auxiliary camp close to some of our targets as well as observing the snow and sun movement in order to have a more educated idea of our possibilities. The basis of our conversations the night before revolved around the large, open north-west face of the peak looker’s right of Kickstep. Due the sun’s movement, we figured our magic window would be between noon and one, just after the sun began to hit the slope. Anything before would be rock hard ice, anything after would be too soft and run the risk of wet slides.

There we were digging again, not skiing. Pausing for lunch, we were treated to a fireworks show of sorts. It was just before three and like clockwork, southerly and easterly faces around us let go of what was left of the snowpack. Our serenity was interrupted by what sounded like jet engines echoing around the valley every five minutes. They served as stark reminders of the omnipresent dangers that exist in the mountains, amplified by below average snowpack and above average temperatures. After lunch and some impromptu nude foot races, we put our gear back on and collectively skied some fun, low-angle terrain before returning to camp and calling it a day.

Up before the dawn, the four of us set out on the day’s mission. As we reached Camp II, Lange, Sage, and myself continued towards the ridge as Sales remained behind with the promise of hot pancakes and bacon upon our return. The three of us traversed along a route that alternated between snow and exposed tundra on the way to the base of the ridge. We decided the quickest way up the ridge would be to boot pack so we strapped up and began the hike. Lange took point and broke trail – MVP of the day. The ridge was a lot longer than it looked but after an hour of solid hiking, we made it to the top.

The sun had yet to hit the face and sure enough, it was frozen solid. We found a cozy plot of exposed tundra to rest our legs as we cracked jokes about what Sales had been doing by himself for the past four hours. Over the radio, Sales’ voice crackled, “Okay, you guys ready to drop?” Our reply was concise and resounding, “No dude, it’s rock hard!” I awoke from a nap about an hour later, slightly startled at my surroundings. This place is indescribably beautiful with layers upon layers of mountains as far as I could see. Testing the snow, it was go time.

One by one, we descended the ridge to the top of the open face. I won – or lost, depending on your view point – rock, paper, scissors for first drop. Pointing down the fall-line, I made a few cautious turns as I approached the blind roll-over. Feeling confident with the perfect corn beneath my skis, I raced down the remainder of the slope and raised my arms in elation as I made one final arc towards the direction of camp. In a safe spot, I cheered as I watched my two friends snake down the two-thousand foot face at high speeds.

Stoke was high as we rendezvoused at Camp II. Sure enough, we had hot pancakes and bacon waiting for us. Jet engines signaled that the day was done, but we didn’t mind. One run was all that we needed. That feeling still hadn’t worn off as we sat around the fire that night on our three-piece sectional made out of snow. Returning to Anchorage the following day to see Sage off on his journey for higher education, we took the time to recoup, refuel, and resupply. Real furniture that wasn’t constructed out of snow sure was a welcome sight.

Check out the beginning of this series in Part I of the Myst crew’s Alaska trip report.

Four season tent – check. Skis, boots, skins – check. Beacon, shovel, probe – check. Harness, rope, ice screws, crampons, axe – check. Beer, whiskey – check. Reindeer sausage – check. “You sure all of this will fit?” Camera gear, radios, stove – check. We sat in Sage’s basement meticulously packing all of our gear into the sled and respective packs. Preceding this was a full day of frantic running around Anchorage ensuring that nothing was forgotten for five days of camping and skiing. By mid-afternoon, we set off along the Seward Highway en route to our destination.

I was taken aback by the surrounding scenery as we drove along the Turnagain Arm. This was the first time that I have ever witnessed such dramatic peaks arise immediately from the ocean. Sales informed me that this body of water has some of the most dramatic tidal ranges in the world. As the tide ebbs and flows during the colder months of the year, car-sized blocks of ice will be traveling along the inlet as if they were another vehicle on the highway. No such frozen cars today, but there was a fair share (read: more than one) bald eagles flying overhead – perhaps an omen of good things to come.

A short ninety minute drive had us at the turn-off where we would embark. The route we selected was a fairly mellow skin that would have us at the planned campsite well before sundown. In hindsight, we should have left in the morning allowing easier transport of our sled, which at this point weighed well over a hundred pounds. Our timing was largely centered on Sage returning to Anchorage in a few days to board a flight to Chicago for the start of med school, leaving us with no choice but to depart this afternoon. Sage bravely volunteered as the first sled mule and we set off at a less-than blistering pace along half-frozen, half-cream corn snow. Less than five hundred yards from the start, the sled had already tipped over, requiring two of us to assist in getting it back upright. This was going to take a lot more effort than we had originally hoped.

Spirits were high despite the slog. Smiles visible, jokes aplenty, even as we lifted the sled upright time and time again. Two hours in, after some bushwhacking and a change of course, I hopped in the saddle despite knowledge of some inclines ahead. This wasn’t so bad. Aside from a few tip-overs here and there, it was relatively smooth sailing complete with a hundred pounds strapped to my hips. We approached our first sustained climb for about a half mile, maybe a fifteen to twenty degree slope at its steepest point. This climb might as well have been vertical. In the two hours it took us to get to this point, it required another two hours to ascend a quarter of that distance. At its worst, Lange was carrying Sage’s skis as Sage pushed the sled from behind because I could no longer get the thing to move under my own power. The smile was gone from my face. By the time we crested the ridge, it had been five hours since we left the car. Exhausted from two hours reminiscent of power sled workouts for soccer, I handed sled duty over to Lange for the final push as I basked in my new found fleet-footedness.

Still short of our intended campsite, we settled on a level plot of land sheltered by tall trees on all sides. As the other three began to dig a solar well and pit for our fire, I set off on a brief recon mission to see where we ended up. Fifteen minutes above camp, I first got eyes on Kickstep and the surrounding zone. It was just as it was described to me, except for the fact that the spine face to the north was all but melted out and wet slide debris was visible on just about every aspect of the compass. Changing over, a smile came back to my face as I linked some downhill turns through the trees back to camp. Finally! I made my first turns in Alaska.

Part III of the Myst crew’s Alaska trip report is up next.
In case you missed it, check out Part I of the Myst crew’s Alaska trip report.

Fifteen hours into a day that will be burned into my memory forever, I paused amidst watching Nick Langelotti manhandle our gear sled down a now-grassy slope. I thought about the Alaska I optimistically envisioned before I landed in Anchorage – you know, the Alaska that you’ve seen in just about any form of ski media ever published. I was standing there, thinking about the raid about to ensue at the Girdwood Tesoro station, if we ever got there. Knee deep in a frozen porridge, I was more exhausted, cold, and hungry than I have ever been in my entire life. Just after midnight, I collapsed on the gravel parking lot we had departed from 18 hours prior. It was simultaneously the best and worst ski day of my life and is the embodiment of my first trip to Alaska.

Rewind three weeks to a Taco Tuesday meeting at Spedelli’s in Salt Lake City, Lange, Eric Sales, and myself met up to discuss our plans and expectations for the trip. The idea was to tour into a zone at the foot of Kickstep Mountain in the Turnagain Pass region of the Chugach Mountains. From there – on a good year – we could tour to a multitude of options including spine faces, open bowls, and even an attempt on summiting Kickstep. This was not a good year, with mountain ranges in Southern Alaska seeing snowpack levels well below average for late April. Upon landing in Anchorage, it became clear that we would have to dial back pretty much all of our expectations.

We were picked up at the airport by Sage Gale, Sales’ college buddy who grew up just outside Anchorage. Sage’s contributions to the trip are priceless as his family took us in and allowed us to stay in their basement for two weeks. Shortly after arriving at Sage’s home, we were in the hot tub in the backyard with local Alaskan brews in hand. Catching up and ragging on each other, I interrupted the conversation by pointing out a faint, grey-green streak dancing in the sky above me. Sage assured me that it was probably a cloud, and that he had only seen The Lights this far south only a handful of times. I was not convinced and the longer we gazed, the more we began to realize that this was indeed a solar event. We hopped into dry clothes and cruised thirty minutes north to get further away from any light pollution.

This couldn’t be happening. Surely, within two hours of being in Alaska I was witnessing one of Mother Nature’s greatest shows for the first time in my life. We stood there in awe. Sales taking exposure shots, naturally. The grey-green streak had turned into green waves gently moving across the sky. We watched for about an hour before the full day of travel had caught up with us and we decided to turn in. There was quite a bit of work to do over the next two days to prepare our gear and supplies for the coming days. We were there to ski after all, although beers and a hot tub were pretty enticing.