Can Freeride Stay Wild? An Argument Against Chasing Points
I saw a sticker on the streets of Nelson, BC that said: "competition sucks the soul out of freeride skiing."
I was there for my 7th ski comp of the season, after a complicated and hectic rookie year on the Freeride World Tour, and I hated to admit it, but I resonated deeply with that sticker.
I grew up immersed in the world of competitive freeride. The people, the comps, the skiing- it continues to shape me every day. My love for the sport runs deep.
I'm en route to Whitewater to compete as I write this, so this isn't a rejection. It's a reflection. An observation from the inside.
Competition in freeride skiing started as a counterculture movement. At its core, it's a sport rooted in rebellion against the boundaries of traditional alpine and freestyle skiing.
Visionaries like Shane McConkey built it as an escape from rigid competition formats and a portal into creative, limitless expression on skis. His whole philosophy was centered on the idea that skiing is about fun, not about rules.
Anti-authoritarian in nature, it's never been about winning. It's always been about pushing boundaries and connecting with friends in the mountains.
Similar to surfing, skating, and mountain biking, judging is quite complicated, considering the subjective nature of the sport. You could have two skiers with completely different styles, skiing completely different lines, and somehow one is deemed better than the other. In turn, hierarchy gets imposed on a space where it doesn't naturally exist. Putting measurable value on a sport that is inherently free makes the whole thing quite conflicting.
Now that the FIS owns the Freeride World Tour (FWT), freeride is set to be in the Olympics. The sport is getting more exposure than ever. Opportunity is growing, athletes are getting bigger contracts, and the level of skiing & riding is rapidly increasing.
Rules and regulations are now an integral part of the game. The largest governing body in skiing oversees a sport created to escape such systems. Freeride is becoming a commodity, and once something becomes commercialized, the loss of virtue becomes inevitable.
As corporate partnerships become a part of the game, media requirements and regulations increase. It's no longer just about skiing; it's about content production, visibility, and engagement. In turn, it seems that producing a viral video stands on a higher pedestal than the competition itself.
Access to competition reflects this shift. To enter the FWT qualifier events in the Americas, it costs at least $150 to enter a two-star event and at least $250 to enter a four-star event. The better riders do in comps, the higher they rise in the ranks, and the easier it is to get into higher-level comps.
Without having previous points, it's difficult for newcomers to get into enough comps to even be able to rise the ranks. To do so, one must spend thousands of dollars.
Some of the best skiers I know can't get into two-star events because of the waitlists. For many, the barrier to entry isn't skill, it's cost and access. The system favors those already inside it.
Are we losing touch with our roots, or is this what progression looks like? Maybe there's more than one route, and the direction of the sport is not linear. Arising events like Natural Selection, the Silver Belt, and the Backcountry Invitational could be a way back. The intersection of freestyle and freeride skiing is happening at full force, and these events capture it in a competitive setting without traditional judging criteria.
Judges focus more on rewarding creativity, risk, & overall impression and less on docking small mistakes in these new events. You could have a backslap, but the overall feel of the run could override that backslap if it's innovative, exciting, and flowy enough.
Events like the Silver Belt and the Backcountry Invitational set themselves apart through their peer-judging format. Riders help shape the venue, build features, and influence the format. The whole event is athlete-driven from start to finish. The dynamic changes. It becomes less about performing for a panel and more about skiing with each other, for each other.
It's a shift into a collective culture that skiers are craving.
Perhaps the path is to pull a Sammy Carlson: stray away from competition completely and lean into the expressive, natural, spiritual elements of freeride.
Maybe skiing big lines in untamed terrain shouldn't be measured by numbers at all. It is a form of art after all, and art is not quantifiable.
Freeride is a sport that works in cohesion with the wildness and variability of Mother Nature. We listen to the mountain, and we ski with the mountain.
This uncanny winter has made the competition season tough, with tons of cancellations in the Americas and Europe. Unstable snowpacks, inconsistent snowfall, and erratic temperatures are becoming the norm.
As climate change intensifies, our winters are becoming increasingly unpredictable. Preset comp schedules aren't working in the unstable present. In looking towards the future of competitive freeride, it's impossible to ignore this factor.
If freeride is to grow without losing itself, the structure needs to evolve with intention.
That could mean rethinking qualification systems to lower financial barriers and open access for emerging riders. It could mean building more flexible competition windows that respond to conditions, rather than forcing venues to fit fixed schedules. It could mean incorporating more athlete-driven formats; peer-judged events that reward vision and expression as much as execution.
Above all, it means redefining what success looks like. Not points, promotion, and ranking, but progression, creativity, and the ability to move people through skiing. The ability to connect with people through skiing.
Freeride doesn't need to reject competition to stay true to itself-but it does need to protect the elements that made it matter in the first place.
A sport built on freedom can only thrive in its wildness. Without it, it becomes exactly what it was created to escape.
Let's preserve that wildness.
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This story was originally published April 15, 2026 at 3:17 AM.