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EXPLORE YOUR WORLD

THERE IS MORE TO WHISTLER THAN JUST A LOOK CLOSER LOOK AT

Blue Moon

10 VACATIONS

ADVENTURE

EXPLORE YOUR WORLD

EXPLORE YOUR WORLD

Editor-in-Chief- Chris Finical Creative Director: Kellie Reince Photography Director: Faria Raji

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Market Editor: Elaina Sullivan Associate Editor: Dorothy Kehrwieder Contributing Writer: Elizabeth Ryan Intern: Barbara Scully

ART & PHOTO

Art Director: Max Curry Digital Photo Producer: Alex Martin Illustrator: Hai Keith

PRODUCTION Copy Chief: Joseph Despositio, Contributing Editors: Leonard Feldman, Eric Grevstad, Glenn Hauser, Don Lancaster, Stan Prentiss

Unknown Magazine Inc. Founder: Richard A. Ross

Unknown is a publication focused on action sports and travel industries. We take our reader closer than ever to some of the most secluded destinations in the world while getting the thrill of a life time. Unknown comes from the saying “destination unknown�. The magazine will be made up of pictures, travel recommendation to remote locations and real testimonials from industry pros and everyday people. You can find advertisements about the latest outdoor products and travel.

Follow The Movement -The Unknown World -TheUnknownWorld -TheUnknownWorld @TheUnknownWorld

Chief Revenue Officer: Art Salsberg Chief Marketing Officer: Dorothy Kehwieder VP of Media Strategy: Frank Fuzia Director of Brand Relations: Ariene Caggiano Subscriber Services: Cheryl Chomicki Interns: Jeep Eddy, Rob Stetina, Dana Salas, Amanda Hassine, John Gort 236 Avenida Fabricante, Ste. 201 San Clemente, CA 92672 www.unknownmag.com info@unknownmag.com US Customers: 877-388-7761 International: 386-447-6383

Editors Letter So here I am. The irony that Unknown, a magazine founded to show adrenaline junkie and world travelers some of the most remote locations in the world, I choose to use a picture of me not in a remote location at all but in-fact at huge touristy hike in San Diego called Torrey Pines. When we first let it be known that a new travel magazine was on the way, the reaction was mixed. We knew that we had to show the public what the world has to offer from the hardcore point of view.

For good or bad, here it is.

You can expect to see pictures of some of the most breath taking scenery, at some of the most remote locations in the world, all while pushing the envelope of what is possible in the world of action sports. We will be covering some of the most wellknown personalities in action sports, good riding scenes, equipment and anything else that we

think you need to know to make these dreamy destinations a reality. In every issue, Unknown will make you question what you are doing and why you are not outside exploring God’s Country.

We intend to improve the magazine’s quality and continue to tell stories around the world from the point of view of the path less traveled but it wont come at the expense of the magazines content.

The key for us is feedback from you, the traveler.

Let us know what you liked, about your travels and experiences, and of course what you would like to see to make this magazine better. This magazine’s culture is getting back to the origin/ grassroots side of action sports... no limits... no rules... just the passion to be outdoors and active lifestyle.

CONTENTS is more to Whistler than just Skiing 10. There & Snowboarding- Travis Rice shows us his favorite place to play.

Blue from John John’s View- The 15. Big latest on John John Florence’s new film debuting Dec 1st 2015.

Ten Adventure Vacations- Adventure 19. Top travel destinations you didn’t even know existed let alone you can travel to.

Does Risk Outweigh the Reward?

21. When How Red Bull Rampage changed our perspective.

– it’s the world boom 35. Sustainability that Australia could lead- Around the

world, demand for sustainable Ethical Investment and Intrepid Travel is growing.

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WORLDS MOST REMOTE HIKE OPENS TO THE PUBLIC Hawaii’s rickety Haiku Stairs on Oahu island have been closed to the public for over 30 years for safety reasons.

But that hasn’t stopped thousands of tourists from climbing the 3,922 steel stairs that stretch precariously up Ko’olau mountain range each year. The sky-high staircase, damaged by landslides and weakened over years of neglect, boast some of the best views of the island, earning it the nickname “Stairway to Heaven.”

In February, after a damaging storm left five hikers stranded and permanently twisted sections of the metal railing, Honolulu’s Board of Water Supply—a state run agency that oversees the trail’s maintenance announced that the trail would be either handed over to another agency or be torn down completely.

But now, thanks to a group of local residents and volunteers who have banded together under a nonprofit organization Friends of Haiku Stairs, there is a plan for the stairs to be repaired and reopened to the public.

In October, Friends of Haiku Stairs laid out a plan to collect revenue from tourists and local hikers, which would fund reconstruction and subsidize maintenance costs, reports Pacific Business News.

They’re proposing a plan that includes a $100 fee for out-of-state visitors, and a $5 to $20 fee for Hawaiian residents. While $100 may seem as the steep as the stairs, current fines for trespassing on the Haiku Stairs can be up to $600, with up to six months in prison.

“If people realize what they’re paying for is going towards that particular venture, they’re very willing to pay that sort of money to experience something like this,” said Friends of Haiku Stairs’Vernon Ansdell. He said the famous Hawaiian trail has been compared to major world attractions like Macchu Pichu.

“If you could see the emails we get, people from around the world and Oahu are truly begging us to come and hike the stairs.”

The Haiku Stairs, also known as the Haiku Ladder, were built during World War II. At its highest point, the stairs reach an altitude of 2,800 feet. The stairs were officially closed in the 1980s, but local residents estimate that up to 2,000 people attempt to climb the stairs illegally each year.

Friends of Haiku Stairs estimate that if reopened, the attraction could generate up to $1.7 million annually if 100 climbers went through per day.

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A LOOK CLOSER LOOK AT

Blue Moon

SEE THE SPORT OF SURFING AS IT’S NEVER BEEN CAPTURED BEFORE IN JOHN FLORENCE AND BLAKE VINCENT KUENY’S SECOND SIGNATURE RELEASE, THIS TIME IN ASSOCIATION WITH THE AWARD-WINNING FILM STUDIO BRAIN FARM. SHOT WITH STUNNING CINEMATOGRAPHY, VIEW FROM A BLUE MOON FOLLOWS THE WORLD’S MOST DYNAMIC SURFER JOHN FLORENCE AND HIS CLOSEST FRIENDS FROM HIS HOME ON THE NORTH SHORE OF OAHU TO HIS FAVORITE SURFING DESTINATIONS AROUND THE GLOBE. FROM THE DREAMY BLUE PERFECTION OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC TO THE DARKEST UNCHARTED WATERS OF AFRICA (AND EVERYWHERE IN BETWEEN).

A

lone in the lineup, John Florence rose to his feet just as the right-hand slab pitched toward shore. He locked into a highline, eying a crumbling section ahead. Knees slightly bent, arms quiet at his sides, he bottom-turned, launched above the lip, and floated 2…4…6 feet out of the water. It was the kind of massive aerial that only a handful of surfers in the world are capable of, yet Florence has a knack for making high-altitude punts look as easy as a Sunday in sweatpants. But just as he reached the apex, an unseen force took hold of Florence and flung him off his board and out to sea. It was as if he’d been slapped by a giant invisible hand.

The blow didn’t come from an angry, omnipotent being. The session was being filmed from a helicopter equipped with a gyro-stabilized camera housing, and, like a modern Icarus, Florence had flown too high. The chopper’s downwash ruined Florence’s moment of graceful flight and sent him spinning.

Factoring for helicopter blades is something most surfers will never have to worry about, but for Florence, it’s become somewhat of an occupational hazard. He’s spent much of the last three years surfing in close proximity to choppers as part of his new movie project, View From A Blue Moon. For the film, Florence and co-director Blake Kueny teamed up with Brain Farm, the company behind Travis Rice’s groundbreaking snowboarding movies The Art of Flight and That’s It, That’s All, to attempt to bring a level of production value to surf movies that has never been seen before. They pulled out all the stops, dropping nearly $2 million on the production and using all manner of high-tech cameras and gadgets to capture Florence’s surfing from every conceivable angle.

“We saw the quality of the cinematography in wildlife documentaries and Hollywood films, and it didn’t seem possible to match that in surfing,” says Kueny.

“But when Art of Flight came out, it made that level of filmmaking seem tangible in action sports.

John and I just saw that and thought, ‘Wow, this is something that we can actually do in surfing.’”

Truth is, Florence and Kueny aren’t the first filmmakers to try to bring a Hollywood-level production value to a surf movie. Most recently, Julian Wilson attempted to do so with mixed results in his 2010 film, Scratching the Surface, a haphazard mash-up of talking-head storytelling and high-action montages. Wilson and Co. also burned through a massive budget using helicopters and high-end cameras to document surfing (they, too, had been watching Travis Rice movies). But while other large-scale surf productions are often overhyped and underwhelming, View From A Blue Moon seems more likely to deliver, mainly because of the filmmakers at the helm.

The last time Florence and Kueny set out to make a

surf movie, they created Done, a beautifully shot and meticulously edited montage following Florence through cavernous barrels and high above lip lines, cut to an eclectic soundtrack ranging from gangster rap to orchestral melodies.

It was an instant hit, not only because it showcased phenomenal surfing, but also because it established a fresh aesthetic in the often-stale genre of carbon-copy surf movies.

When the dust settled, Florence and Kueny had made their mark as filmmakers, earning two SURFER Poll awards for Movie of the Year and Best Performance in the process. But they aren’t the type to rest on their laurels.

“Before we even premiered Done, we had already started working on the new movie,” says Kueny. “Done felt like a learning experience, and by the time we finished it, we already had so many ideas for how to make something better.”

“We knew we needed a lot more time to make the new movie,” says Florence. “That’s one thing that we learned from Done: that to do something right, it takes time.

We didn’t want to get to the end and feel like there was anything we could have done better.”

Florence and Kueny’s obsessive quality control is one of the biggest things View From A Blue Moon has going for it. The other is the talent of its star. In recent years, Florence has been hailed by many of his peers as the best all-around surfer in the world.

On one end of the spectrum, he can tear apart small surf, mixing fin drifts and inverted airs with ease. On the other end, he can wax up a 10’6” gun, paddle to an outer reef on the North Shore, and trade set waves with some of the hardestcharging surfers in the world. It’s this versatility that has earned him the kind of universal respect seldom enjoyed by more specialized wave riders.

Given Florence’s background, his versatility shouldn’t come as any surprise. His origin story reads like a surf myth in the making: a young haole is raised by a single mother on the North Shore, grows up just a stone’s throw from the heaviest lineups in the world, gets mentored by a rotating cast of legendary surfers, and eventually takes his place among them. Florence was paddling out at Pipe at five years old, competing in the Triple Crown at 13, and qualifying for the World Tour at 18.

But after breaking onto surfing’s biggest stage, Florence has struggled to make the impact on competitive surfing he seemed destined to. If his origin story had maintained its narrative arc, Florence’s mantle would be sagging under the weight of a few world titles already. But instead he’s gone off script and started improvising. In competition, Florence will post the highest score of the contest in one heat, only to look lost at sea the next, unable to play the strategic

games that make surfing champions. But his unbridled approach to riding waves is a double-edged sword: it may not always cut the mustard within the competitive format, but it looks razor sharp on the big screen.

It seems common for the most creative freesurfers to struggle in the competitive realm—take Dane Reynolds, for example. But, unlike Reynolds, Florence doesn’t plan on taking any competitive sabbaticals.

“I think a lot of people assume that contests aren’t as big of a priority for me as making movies,” says Florence. “But I’ve been surfing every event the best I can. Sure, I’ve needed a little time off here and there so I could go on trips to film, but I don’t think I should have to choose one or the other.”

For nearly three years, Florence has crisscrossed the globe between events, filming in Tahiti, Fiji, South Africa, Western Australia, and Brazil—not to mention the countless sessions he’s logged

“With everything John does, he tries to downplay it as much as he can”

at his home breaks on the North Shore.

For each location, Florence and Kueny decided on a different visual theme, from ethereal underwater imagery in the South Pacific to scenes of dense urban cityscapes in Rio de Janeiro. The results are nothing short of stunning, and early cuts look like nothing we’ve seen in surfing. But for Florence and Kueny, working on a production of this scale is uncharted territory, and the learning curve has been steep.

The first trip they did for the film was to an undisclosed location at the edge of an African desert, hundreds of miles past what would qualify as the middle of nowhere. Florence had been there before, on surf missions with his family and longtime friend Frank Solomon. But this time they made the trek with a crew of roughly 20 people: surfers, cinematographers, producers, assistants, Jet Ski drivers, and, of course, a helicopter pilot. After 50 hours of grueling travel, their caravan of 44 trucks finally reached

the coast around 3 a.m. and settled into their accommodations: a few small fishing shacks with dirt floors and rusty corrugated metal roofs.

The ever-casual Florence didn’t even bat an eye at the hovels, but simply went to work setting up a portable stove to make coffee for the rapidly approaching dawn-patrol session. When the helicopter landed in the camp just before daybreak and woke the entire production crew, Florence was already outside, fully caffeinated and checking the conditions.

For the next few weeks, they surfed every nook and cranny of the desolate coast, scoring perfect beachbreak barrels, mutant slabs, and rampy wedges, documenting their sessions from every conceivable angle. But coordinating with a crew of 20 in the middle of the desert is no easy ask, as it turns out. Every session was

preceded by gassing up Jet Skis and helicopters, packing food and water, charging batteries, getting to the surf, setting up cameras, and finding the best angles. Everything takes longer than expected with a camera crew in tow, but waves wait for no man, even if he is packing a $50k RED camera.

“It’s tough for John to do things that way,” says Florence’s brother, Nathan. “We’ll be driving back from surfing somewhere for three hours, and he’ll look out the window and see one sick wave and be like ‘Stop the car! Let’s paddle out!’ Suddenly he’s already out of the car with his suit on, and the camera guys are just scrambling, like, ‘Wait, we’re not ready!’

But that’s how it goes with John. He just surfs so much, nobody can keep up.”

They couldn’t have timed their trip to Africa any better in terms of surf, but the logistics of shooting for weeks on end without hot meals and running water had taken a toll on everyone.

“We tried to communicate to the crew that we were going to be spending weeks cut off from civilization, but I don’t think that totally sank in,” says Solomon. “It was freezing cold at night, no one really had enough to eat, and people were getting sick by the end of it.”

“The footage was incredible,” recalls Florence.

“But it was pretty much a shit show otherwise.

We realized that if we wanted to do this the right way, we had to rethink some things.”

They scaled back their operation so that they could be more nimble, free to chase waves at the drop of a hat. They also got help from some of the best cinematographers in surfing, including the late Sonny Miller.

By the time Florence and Kueny shot the last section of the film, their previously clumsy production was humming.

They had followed a tip to Angra dos Reis, Brazil, with Filipe Toledo, where they stayed in a cove looking out over a bright-turquoise sea dotted with untouched green isles, each beckoning with wave potential.

They used the helicopter to scout for waves, and then Florence and Toledo met them by catamaran. What they found was a multitude of sand-bottom peaks, where they enjoyed marathon sessions every day, and a handful of shooters captured every big air and blowtail.

Throughout the production, Florence and Kueny kept details about the film closely guarded.

The idea was that if they could keep the project out of the spotlight, they’d avoid the kind of hype super-storm that normally accompanies large-scale film projects. But the rumor mill went ahead without them.

“It’s funny how that works,” says Florence.

“People would ask me about the movie, and I’d say, ‘What movie?’ But the more you try to keep something quiet, the more people want to know about it, and it kind of takes on a life of its own.”

“With everything John does, he tries to downplay it as much as he can,” says co-star Albee Layer.

“But in a way it’s kind of backfired. There’s so much hype placed on this movie, but if anyone can live up to that, it’s John. I’ve seen some of the raw footage and it’s pretty much second to none.”

Maybe View From A Blue Moon will live up to the lofty expectations placed on it, and maybe it will be to surfing what The Art of Flight was to snowboarding, redefining what is possible in filmmaking. It’s a tall order in an era when hi-fi surf clips are a dime a dozen online, but having helicopters, high-tech cameras, and the most talented surfer in the world at your disposal certainly helps.

Until Florence presses play at the premiere, we’re just going to have to wait and see.

When asked about the expectations, the pressure, and his ambitions as a filmmaker, Florence deflects in his typically casual fashion: “Well, I never said it would be the greatest surf movie ever,” he says. “We’re just making a fun project with our friends.”

Leave it to him to make shooting the biggest surf

When Does

Risk Outweigh the Reward?

How Red Bull Rampage Changed Our Perspective And Is Changing the Sport as We Know It

I

t’s Saturday night following the 10th Anniversary of the Red Bull Rampage, and I just came across a photo of Paul Basagoitia giving the camera a big thumbs up from his hospital bed. Paul was on the run of his life, nailing his line and bagging tricks with the best of them, when things went awry and he landed a little (okay, a LOT) too deep on what is probably the biggest step-down in MTB history. And then he crashed hard. REALLY hard. The crash where you’re going 40+ miles per hour and high side before falling another 20 feet to packed dirt kind of hard. So hard that a mortal like me can’t even fathom crashing that hard because I’d never find myself in that situation to begin with.

Paul is currently in ICU - basically the worst place you could ever wind up in a hospital - fighting to regain feeling in his legs after shattering his T12 vertebrae and undergoing nine hours of surgery. Seeing Paul’s thumbs up photo inspired me to write this piece, though it has been on the back of my mind for several years.

I remember being a grom watching New World Disorder something (I’d remember the number, but at the time they were all a glorious blur of awesome in my adolescent mind), and being blown away by this new guy on the scene who dirt jumped so damn well.

He was throwing combos and variations no one else was doing at the time, and he seemingly came out of nowhere. Little did I know, just months before Paul had won the first ever Crankworx Whistler slopestyle event in 2004, on a borrowed bike no less. He went on to win many more competitions and set the pace in the dirt jump/slopestyle scene for a few years.

Over ten years later Paul is still a contender. He’s as Pro as you can get. The man knows how to ride a bike, and he can ride one damn well. He’s also a stand up character. And today I’d like to make a case why guys like Paul are being short changed, big time.

I have attended Rampage four times now, and last year I had the honor of being part of Paul Bas and KC Deane’s shared dig team. As we stood on top of the mountain, I watched the two from behind as they choose a line down. They decided to stay far rider’s right, sneaking behind the backside of the upper cliff before dropping down a hundred feet or more into what would be a 50+ foot canyon gap above the bottom ridge. With a line chosen, the hard work of sculpting something remotely ridable began.

We decided to start with the hardest part first - digging a five or so foot wide path into the side of the mountain that led into a large, precariously placed drop and a catch berm. This was honest to god back busting hard work. We toiled for hours to gain an inch as the mountain battled back against us, unyielding to our tools. Each time the pick axe landed it struck hard rock that made my hands sting as the impact buzzed through the handle.

The hours of slaving away went on, and on. All the while with our backs turned to one of the biggest cliffs I’ve ever stood next to. I was honestly scared shitless every time I swung the pick axe or threw a shovel full of dirt. Call me a pansy, but it was too much for my senses to handle. It’s absolutely terrifying out there.

You saw Claudio Caluori’s helmet cam - he rides all the rowdy World Cup courses at speed - well, Rampage doesn’t even compare. The exposure and rawness of that mountain are something you have to see up close and in person to believe. Unlike many of his videos, Claudio’s screams in the Rampage preview are real. He very likely did lose sleep about being

asked to ride down it.

Renowned Red Bull Signature Series host, Sal Masekela, said it himself during the live feed. He “would rather take on Jaws tomorrow or a backcountry scenario with unstable snow” before dropping in on Rampage.

So where am I going with this? Rampage is gnarly. You get that. That’s what makes it so awesome. But would you believe me if I told you the riders often can’t even afford to pay for their travel to the event, much less pay for exorbitant hospital bills should they land six inches off line?

I remember Tyler McCaul coming in 5th place in 2013 and telling me that he could barely cover his whole trip with his earnings. In 2014 Kyle Strait was awarded $4,000 for his 4th place result, leaving just $1,000 take home after his expenses for two weeks in the desert.

At an hourly rate that’s probably worse than minimum wage. This year Cam Zink made just $3,000 for his 6th place finish, and the pay scale falls off fast after that.

Many riders in the Top 10 couldn’t even cover their gas expenses with the pennies they made for their efforts. Perhaps the biggest of all, the riders are not covered by an event insurance policy. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? This is MADNESS. How can Red Bull do this to the best in our sport in good conscience? It’s literally costing the Pros money to hurl themselves down the gnarliest mountain Red Bull could find, and they’re not covered if they fall.

That’s blatant exploitation. Seriously. And it’s to the point where riders are facing more potential for worse injuries. Riders must bring their own insurance to the

event, and are then required to sign a liability waiver freeing Red Bull of any responsibility.

This is the part where my mind wonders how this even became possible. Surely at some point in our sport’s history the money was good enough to make it worthwhile, to make it enticing enough to these super talented riders to even consider trying it. I mean, it had to have been, right? Or perhaps it never was and this has been an issue for many years? Regardless, Red Bull hasn’t kept up with the pace of the sport, rider progress, and growing risks.

Attention, validation, and recognition, it seems, may be the real driving forces behind the decisions the Pros make. Perhaps that’s the society we live in, where standing on a podium, another hundred Facebook likes, or a video’s final view count is sometimes more valued than anything else, though there’s surely more to it.

The 2015 Red Bull Rampage had an invite list of 42 riders. At least seven of those riders found themselves in the hospital. That’s 17%, or nearly one out of five who were badly hurt. In 2014 it was worse. Those numbers aren’t good. Would you hit any drop on any trail with those odds of wiping out hard? Hell no you wouldn’t.

Now I also must acknowledge that the sport itself is insane. It used to be that doing a backflip was a big deal, but not anymore. Now you have to find the biggest damn cliff or widest canyon to jump, and you had better do it with some style and a big trick to boot. God forbid you slip a pedal.

Another valid perspective is that no one forces the riders to compete. That’s true, there’s no gun to their head. Riders know the prize money before they accept their invitation, and they know the risks involved.

If they can’t afford to go, they don’t have to go.

Shawn Spomer, who also writes here on Vital, reminded me that every year since Rampage began in 2001, a lot of the riders have been financially at ends with only a small handful making a living from mountain biking. Every year they knew the consequences. Every year the riders wanted to push themselves. Was 2015 any different? If anything, in 2015 all the riders have the history of disgusting crashes and lines to weigh their lives against. In 2015 they could probably make the most calculated decisions about competing being worth it.

Maybe the Pros are stoked for the opportunity and arena to push themselves. Maybe they fully agree with me. While Cam McCaul was announcing he said, “We all know the risks out here.” Then Nico Vink stated - despite not even being able to really look at it because it was so steep - that he had to try his line because he’d regret it if he never did. That sounds more personal than Red Bull-influenced. No one wants these guys to risk their lives, but maybe they are okay with it, regardless of publicity/money/success? In some sense their lives have basically ramped up to the things they try to do at Rampage.

And then there’s the FEST Series... a place where the riders hit the biggest jumps on the planet, again under their own free will. One key difference is that they do it in a safer environment, free of corporate pressures and time constraints, free of a live feed, and free of making someone a big pile of money. A friend recently told me, “We all want to feel like super-humans, and thanks to bikes sometimes we can.” This is especially true in this instance.

So is it Red Bull’s fault? No, it’s not. That’s not what I’m trying to get at. This is bigger than that. Yes, the Pros choose to do it, but what pressures do they face? At what point does passion no longer outweigh the possible outcome? Shouldn’t their basic needs be met, including full coverage in an accident?

To add, the event has gotten to the point where every rider has to build some incredible and unique features to do well. You can’t just ride down the mountain anymore. That’s not nearly rowdy enough for the cameras. As a rider you have to bring a big build crew, which in turn means persuading your buddies to join your dig team.

Sounds like a dream, right? Building rad lines at Rampage? Think again. Shear exposure, smoldering temperatures, a risk of dehydration, sore muscles, blisters, snakes, and scorpions aside, these buddies will need to work 12 hours a day for six plus days in a row for nothing - because the vast majority of the riders can’t afford to pay them. The diggers do it out of passion and love for their rider buddy whose “big day at Rampage” has finally come. The diggers are an often forgotten but major component of every rider’s performance. “Privilege” only goes so far, and unfortunately lodging, food, and transportation don’t pay for themselves. The riders do their best to make it happen for their build crews, but it’s high time Red Bull properly acknowledges this crucial component.

Well then, why do it? I reached out to several riders in preparing this opinion piece. What Cam Zink said to me summed it up best: “You do it for yourself, first and foremost, and there’s a lot to be said about that. You’re not going to do it just for the money or the fame. But if you are at a contest and someone is making money off of your efforts, your risk, and you’re not really benefitting, that’s where you run into a bit of a snafu. Rampage is perhaps Red Bull’s biggest stage. It’s one of their most viewed events ever, second only to the Stratosphere project with it’s multi-million dollar budget. We’re putting on a huge show for them, and someone else is getting the vast majority of the benefit in this scenario.”

You surely noticed that Zink and others decided to bow out of a second run. Why is that?

In the end, how many hundreds of thousands millions of dollars of product are going to be sold on the backs of these riders? How many ads are going to be

made from the photos and video clips? How many eyeballs are going to see their logo over and over again as the public watches in awe? It’s time for Red Bull, and really every company that exploits the riders skill and courage (including Vital MTB), to share that benefit.

What really angered me about this whole situation wasn’t the dollars though. As press, when we sign our papers to get approved for a media pass, among the many legal clauses we agree to is one stating that we will never post a photo of a bad crash or a rider’s condition after the fact. It’s literally the first clause in a two page agreement. Why not? Why the hell can’t the public know what happens out there? Why must it be shrouded in secrecy? Rampage is no walk in the park.

What you’re asking the riders to do is a life or death situation. There’s no hiding that. We understand keeping things quiet out of respect for the athlete and their family until the time comes if/when they want to tell the world, but Red Bull attempted to sweep this one under the rug. They stated that Paul was just fine and told the announcers the same (who in turn unknowingly told the public), when in fact he’s fighting just to feel his legs and feet again, let alone walk. You only get in a medical heli evac when you’re badly injured.

Red Bull’s action in this instance was just plain wrong.

So I ask the mountain bike community this, is Red Bull a sport savior? Them rescuing the World Cup downhill live feed and sponsoring other big events may lead you to believe so.

Johan Hjord, another Vital writer, reminded me that Red Bull has had a very positive influence on mountain biking as a sport, and I hope they will continue to do so. Their image and what they do for some riders does indeed go be-

yond the event, and pretty much every time you see an athlete with a Red Bull helmet they are excited to wear it for the recognition, care, and paycheck that it brings with it. They even support spinal cord injury research.

Even so, if Red Bull (and other companies) truly want to further the sport, they need to start by ensuring that ALL of the guys that put their lives on the line are taken care of when tallying up their bottom dollar, regardless of the event. We’re all partners in this together.

When I originally wrote this piece I was a bit teary eyed and furious over Paul’s condition, and I intended to end it with a call to action for the Pros. The next time they found themselves on top of that mountain I wanted them to boycott the live feed, to refuse to drop in until their needs were acknowledged and met. To let the seconds, minutes, and hours tick by as the world patiently waits. I wanted them to make the corporations sweat a little while the cameras were rolling. Now I find myself looking at the bigger picture...

I don’t know what the athletes in other major action sports are making and what benefits they receive, though I hope to hell that it’s better than mountain biking. If it is better, mountain bikers deserve to be treated on the same level. But even then, even if those needs are met, I want you Pros to consider for a moment if it’s still really worth it. Is it? Honestly? Because in our minds your lives are worth so much more.