Some of my new copywriting work has shown up, My good friends and associates at Origin Design + Communications hired me to work on this advertisement for Salomon Footwear, and I’m happy with how it turned out. The photography and design is killer, the line is simple, and that’s what makes great advertising. Thanks again to Salomon and Origin. – Mike Berard

This past spring, Origin Design + Communications approached me to work on the Whistler Mountain Bike Park campaign. I was copywriter on the project last year, and the client wanted to expand on the first year’s campaign, which I think was graphically strong but lacked some impact in the “hit you where you feel it” department. I believe words have power for people in lifestyle sports like mountain biking and skiing. I wanted that to come through in the evolution of the campaign, and so we worked towards strong writing about the elements of just what makes Whistler Mountain Bike Park so damn amazing.

One of the coolest things about working on this campaign has been watching how filmmaker Mike Goldstein of Goldstein Productions has interpreted the copywriting and turned it into a set of five short films for Whistler Mountain Bike Park. He’s done a great job and they make me want to get out and ride, the true sign of a good action sports video.

Here are all five of the films, with the accompanying copy I wrote for the campaign. I hope you enjoy. – Mike Berard

Elements of Perfection – Pt1 – Dirt from Whistler Blackcomb on Vimeo.

Part 1: Dirt

An infinite collection of tiny rocks And decomposed plant matter. You clog my lungs And grit my teeth. You scratch my goggles And stain my clothes. But you Also stain my soul. So thank you.

Thank you for letting me ride all over you.
For being forgiving while I learn whips, for being firm while I learn manuals.
For finding synchronicity with my tires. For providing soft ground between stone and wood.
For flowy lines and sculpted berms.
For giving me a reason to skip work.
For the scars on my shins. For the impressions in my memory.
For bringing together others just like me to worship you in this kick-ass place. At once, you are everything to me, but just one small part of my favourite bike park in the world.

Elements of Perfection – Pt2 – Rock from Whistler Blackcomb on Vimeo.

Part 2: Rock

You are more than a mere part of the earth. You are the earth. You erupt from deep volcanic faults or collect in ancient processes. Upon impact, you give nothing, but you give everything through your existence. You are the beginning, middle and end of all trails.

So thank you. Thank you for letting me ride all over you.
Thank you for allowing my tires to leave their rubber fingerprint on you.
For dictating the path of the trail: over, above and around.
For allowing traction on dry days, and scary-but-fun sliding on soggy ones.
For always being there. For never changing.
Thank you for providing mental markers with your cracks and lines.
For near-vertical rollovers and wallrides and lips that never need reshaping.
For giving birth to gravel and dirt.
For bringing together others just like me to worship you in this kick-ass place.
At once, you are everything to me, but just one small part of my favourite bike park in the world.

Elements of Perfection – Pt3 – Air from Whistler Blackcomb on Vimeo.

Part 3: Air

You barely exist, yet you literally encompass this entire world. With a perfect mix of 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen and 1% “miscellaneous” you deliver life to every corner of our planet. And when I put you between tire and Earth, you give life to my ride.

So thank you. Thank you for letting me move through you and above you.
Thank you for the weightless moments between lip and transition.
Thank you for teaching me to relax during the rollover. To pull up off the wheelie drop.
Thank you for the way you whistle in my ears on jacket-flapping descents. And for the way you cool the sweat on my skin.
For fueling my ragged lungs and purifying my bloodstream.
Thank you for that unknown 1% that is so much more than miscellaneous. It’s miraculous.
For bringing together others just like me to worship you in this kick-ass place.
At once, you are everything to me, but just one small part of my favourite bike park in the world.

Elements of Perfection – Pt4 – Roots from Whistler Blackcomb on Vimeo.

Part 4: Roots

You are the veins of the forest. You grip the ground with gnarled fingers and lay wooden foundation for tall trees and the trails that snake between them. Within you, the lifeblood of the timber flows. Without you, the woods and the singletrack they host would fall.

So thank you. Thank you for letting me ride all over you.
Thank you for unpredictable descents and tire-gripping climbs.
For teaching me to brake with subtlety, to stay fluid in movement.
Thank you for weaving your unique puzzle across the face of the trail.
Thank you for the challenge of navigating your lines, and for providing footholds when I can’t.
Thank you for building this grand temple of fir and cedar. For fiber, water and foliage. For natural surfaces. For wild textures. For keeping mountain biking true to its past.
For bringing together others just like me to worship you in this kick-ass place.
At once, you are everything to me, but just one small part of my favourite bike park in the world.

Part 5: Soul

Some question its presence. As if chairlifts and full-face helmets somehow diminish the passion behind our gravity-fueled pursuit. What we know is that it has never been about equipment or high-speed quads or dual crown forks. Instead, it’s about substance, and commitment, and love for a two-wheeled life. Simply put, it is soul.
So thank you.

Thank you for being at the core of every decision I make.
Thank you for providing the fire that burns throughout the impossibly long off-season.
For the initial tinge of excitement I felt the first time I caught air, and for the lifetime of descents that followed.
For keeping me focused: on fun, on performance, and on the trail.
Thank you for showing others that you are alive and thriving in the stone, dirt, air and hearts you’ll find here.
Thank you for bringing together other souls just like me to worship you in this kick-ass place.
At once, you are everything to me, but just one small part of my favourite bike park in the world.

Elements of Perfection – Pt5 – Soul from Whistler Blackcomb on Vimeo.

The Troutsmen International Club of Leisure raises cash for others…in as leisurely a fashion as possible.

By Mike Berard

It’s a sunny afternoon in July and Rainbow Park is alive with the mid-summer energy it’s infamous for. Children play in the shallows of the lake, a plethora of dogs raises ruckus at Canine Cove, and RCMP officers hand out drinking in public fines to drunken mobs of Aussies. Sometime around noon the first oddly shaped, double-hinged bicycle swings down the Valley trail. The rider, clad in a white singlet with a fish emblazoned on the ribs and a straw hat, steps off and gingerly leans the custom-built swing bike on its pedal. Soon thereafter, another is lined up beside it, and another. Bar-B-Qs are produced and a 150-ft long slip n’ slide is set up on the grassy lawn. Within an hour, the group has taken over the southern side of the park. Music plays. Hot dogs are consumed. Big smiles permeate the crowd. Almost all of them sport mustaches. This is just another day in the Troutsmen International Club of Leisure. No, there are no fish involved.

The Troutsmen are a loosely organized yet tightly knit group of men with a common goal—increasing social capital and charitable spirit through togetherness and leisure. How they manage to raise donations to charity while doing this is often a mystery to the people who attend their events. After all, the leisure part of the equation always comes first, a mindset put in place by club co-founders Sheldon Steckman and Myles Ricketts.

“I wanted to do something better for the community but figured there must be a way to do it that was fun for everyone involved,” says Steckman, over a late-morning spicy Ceasar at the GLC. “Plus, it gets a younger demographic of people interested in being charitable by appealing to their casual lifestyles.”

This philosophy has prompted the club to come up with events that promote a cause everyone has an interest in—being laidback and happy. The first event put on by the Troutsmen was a “Cheeseburger Picnic” in 2006. The self-explanatory event brought together hundreds of members of Whistler’s active outdoor community to eat mini cheeseburgers, drink beer and enjoy great music. After five successful picnics, the club stepped up the event. The sixth incarnation, the Sushi Village-sponsored Cheeseburger 1000, raised an impressive 500 items for the Food Bank. The club suddenly saw big promise in their efforts.

“We were shocked that so many people showed up,” recalls Troutsmen member Rich Glass. “Suddenly we realized the potential that was there—people were more than happy to give donations in exchange for a couple free cheeseburgers and a good time. That’s when the wheels really started turning.”

Four years later and the group has raised over $11,000 for charities such as the Whistler Adaptive Sports Program, as well as sending eight underprivileged kids to summer camp. The best part is, they’ve done it without losing the club’s initial focus. Poker tournaments, food- and drink-based soirees and golf tournaments (disc, whiffle, mini and regular) still figure prominently in the charity efforts, making the 35 or so members of the club happy to be a part of the bigger purpose.

“I’m honoured to be a part of the club” Says TK “It’s been a great way to get in some serious socializing while doing something that makes me feel good about the community. I think we can do even more in the future.”

Indeed, the club has big plans to do more. Over the morning meeting at the GLC, several members discuss opportunities that involve everything from a complimentary designated driver service, a legitimate clubhouse and a plethora of events to deliver even more charity to more organizations. This winter, the club will host a movie night aligned with the Whistler Film Festival, as well as the Troutsman’s Ball in February 2011. This means that the end result will remain the same—to enjoy thyself while providing for others.

The Troutsemen would like to thank all who have helped them in their efforts: Monster Energy, Wayne Katz, Sushi Village, Maxx Fish Nightclub, and anyone else who has donated prizes or otherwise. Learn more at www.troutsmen.org.

How to Become a Troutsmen 101

The number one asked question is how to enter the International Club of Leisure. For a supposedly leisurely club, the process is actually quite exclusive. Here is the standard induction process, which may or may not be followed stringently.

1. Get asked – There is no application process. Your best bet is to show up at Troutsmen events and be awesome. Be a gentleman. Pitch in, help out, donate big. Get the attention of those who matter. How do you tell who they are? They are the drunk, funny, loud ones behind the BBQ or on the swing bikes.
2. 2. Discover what a swing bike is.
3. Attend a meeting – Troutsmen meetings happen at Midnight on the third Saturday of every month at an undisclosed location. During your first pledge meeting you must show up with a clean upper lip.
4. Be Leisurely – Over the month, be seen being leisurely. If you need to ask what being leisurely is, you probably haven’t made it this far.
5. Attend another meeting – The second meeting requires that you show up sporting the best damn mustache you can, and make a speech for why you want to be inducted. Criteria for inclusion is based equally on facial hair fortitude and level of leisure.
6. Contribute, Fraternize, Relax – One of the key elements of being a Troutsmen is being a part of the Troutsmen. Members must contribute with volunteering, monthly dues and by not missing more than six meetings a year. Naturally, none of these tasks should eclipse your pursuit of the leisurely lifestyle.

Mike Berard is an Olympic Asphalt Village-based writer with a huge bias for the Troutsmen. After all, he is a member. He also owes $70 in dues.

This article ran as my editor’s note in The Ski Journal. If you like it, you should subscribe.

This past November, I went to my wife’s university graduation. Before arriving, I was dreading the pomp and pretense of Academia; the goofy outfits, the lengthy ceremony, the crowds of proud parents and graduates with that anxious “What-the-hell-do-I-do-now?” look. What I found, however, was a charming and inspiring ceremony that was downright enjoyable. And most of it had to do with the Chancellor’s speech.

A self-described builder by trade, the Chancellor stood to address the graduates with a speech that drew parallels between architecture and life. Through eloquent and passionate passages, he urged students to go forward from their graduation with optimism and energy; to enjoy life and live it well. It was pretty standard graduation stuff. But speaking to life’s ambition in metaphorically-rich language, he remarked, “Aesthetics matter—don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Build a beautiful life.”

Later that week, as I stood in the opening day lineup at Whistler, I looked over the crowd of smiling skiers waiting for the lifts to turn and deliver us to deep Pacific Northwest snow and early season land-mines. Energized by the vibe, I began to reminisce on how I got here, not just in a physical or geographical sense, but in a metaphorical one—how did I become a skier? I realized the answer was a cocktail of many qualities—love of nature, thirst for adventure, the social draw, wanderlust—but the impetus to discovering my downhill destiny was undeniably ski photography. And it has, in one way or another, provided the building blocks of my life ever since.

Despite a few family ski trips and school outings, the tipping point to my birth as a skier happened late in the anxious years of teenagehood. It came in the form of glossy ski mags and the photography that jumped from the pages. I was a confused high-school graduate (who isn’t?) with no direction and a job I despised. Late one night during my first post-secondary summer I stumbled across a newsstand generously and prominently stocked with ski magazines. As soon as I picked one up my fate was sealed.

The images of powder and mountains and ski towns kicked off a series of decisions that ultimately led me here. And here, sitting in my living room writing about skiing after yet another day of skiing, is pretty damn good. I am grateful for all I have, and for those first photographs that pushed me in this direction.

So I’d like to dedicate this issue to the small, beautiful moments preserved by cameras everywhere. Whether images are captured by professionals on bulky SLRs or by your buddy and his beat-up cell phone, let’s remember why we stop in the middle of powder runs and on sun-soaked peaks to gather them. It’s because each of these tiny moments are the same ones that construct the larger days, months and winters that make up our unexplainably wonderful existence. They help us build this beautiful life. And that’s reason enough to capture and savor them for as long as possible.

Happy snapping.

My friends over at Origin Design + Communications recently contacted me to write copy for the Whistler Mountain Bike Park. The campaign called for authentic yet poetic copy about the elements that make up the bike park. From dirt to wood to stone, nature contributes the most important parts to the mountain biking experience, even in the chairlift-assisted world of bike parks. I used my long history with the sport to channel authenticity into the copywriting and am happy with the end result. Thanks to Origin and Whistler Blackcomb for working with me to create some striking advertising. Keep your eyes out for the other ads as they are unveiled in Decline Magazine.

The Elements of Perfection

Dirt

An infinite collection of tiny rocks and decomposed plant matter. You clog my lungs and grit my teeth. You scratch my goggles and stain my clothes.
But you also stain my soul.
So thank you. Thank you for letting me ride all over you.
For being forgiving while I learn whips, for being firm while I learn manuals.
For finding synchronicity with my tires.
For providing soft ground between stone and wood.
For flowy lines and sculpted berms.
For giving me a reason to skip work.
For the scars on my shins. For the impressions in my memory.
For bringing together others just like me to worship you in this kick-ass place.
At once, you are everything to me, but just one small part of my favourite bike park.
Where else? Whistler Mountain Bike Park.

“Sir, this is a unique dog. He does not live by tooth or fang. He respects the right of cats to be cats although he doesn’t admire them. He turns his steps rather than disturb an earnest caterpillar. His greatest fear is that someone will point out a rabbit and suggest that he chase it. This is a dog of peace and tranquility.” – John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley

As the editor of the Jay Peak Resort Magazine (which is produced by Origin Design + Communications), I am tasked with finding the balance between communicating the brand message of this quirky-but-core Vermont resort and entertaining the readers with writing and photography that speaks to them. Jay’s customers are devout skiers and snowboarders who understand that sliding down the hill is only part of the allure of these sports. With the actual act comes along a myriad of cultural influences that make up the bizarre lifestyle often tagged “ski bumming”.  While in Jay last summer, I snapped the above photo with no immediate use in mind. Eight month later, I stumbled across the image in Lightroom and it sparked some copy that I ended up running on the back page, as an ode to time and our place within it. It makes me thirst for travel and for good times with great friends. I hope you dig it too. If you get a chance, pick up a copy of the Jay Peak Resort summer magazine and let me know what you think.

Last. Words.

As anyone who’s played in the overtime period of a championship game knows, time has an elastic quality, stretching and constricting in unpredictable ways. And while we do our best to segment Father time’s unflinching march forward into comfortable little slivers, he still manages to escape us or hold us in his grip at will. We fight it with day planners and the omnipresent timepieces that rule our lives but, in the end, time decides how it passes.

As such, we as humans find it necessary to document the passage of time. We tell ourselves it’s for prosperity’s sake, or to learn from our mistakes, but the reality is we do it because we are afraid. We’re insecure that we will lose track of where we’ve been, who we’ve met, how we smiled. It’s the reason tourists take too many photos of landmarks and sunsets yet only remember that one great meal in the back alley of a distant city, and the thousand laughs that came along with it.

This doesn’t mean we should quit collecting these moments through images and words (or in this case, license plates from years’ past). It simply means we shouldn’t be afraid of losing track. The moments that matter will imprint themselves where they matter: in your brain, within your heart, and on your soul. Go forth and make some memories. Time waits for no man. And he leaves unexpectedly. – Mike Berard

It’s been close to a year since the Olympics rolled through British Columbia, propelled by contrasting waves of patriotism and corporate advertising budgets. As a staunch critic of the Games’ political and fiscal policies, and a resident of Whistler, I was apprehensive of what the five-ring circus would bring to my doorstep. And I wasn’t the only one. Activists did their best to disrupt the juggernaut. A contingent of Whistler locals left town in protest, or in anticipation of an expected shitshow of Olympic proportions. Even amongst my friends in Vancouver and Seattle, the majority more or less gave up skiing Whistler during the 2010 winter, let alone during actual Games-time.

Leading up to that mid-February kick-off, many northwest skiers remained in the dark on just how the Games would affect their skiing and their lifestyles. Needless to say, this ignorance fueled fear, and growing rumors of security checkpoints, closed highways and lack of parking manifested a slow-rising hatred for the Games in many locals, who loathed the idea of a two-week interruption in the thick of the Coast Mountain winter. Little did we know that, for those lucky enough to be local, the effect on the skiing would be as legendary as the Games itself.

While Whistler Mountain hosted the downhill events, Blackcomb Mountain was virtually empty during the 16-day event, leaving local skiers the spoils of Blackcomb’s white gold. For those who needed neither parking nor highway access the Olympics became a return to the days of empty slopes and afternoon fresh tracks. Over the first week, bluebird conditions highlighted the true elitist aspect of 2010, as the lucky few snapped up fresh turns like tourists in a souvenir shopping frenzy. Like the teeming village below, Blackcomb’s lift lines buzzed with joy and celebration. But unlike the crowded stroll, skiers in the barely-formed lineups celebrated powder as opposed to patriotism. For those on the mountain, it was truly a celebration of sport. Our sport.

I have to grudgingly admit the Olympics were one of the more exciting times of my life. While my view on the Games’ policies remains firm, my appreciation for the athletes has grown exponentially, and the unifying spirit of celebration that permeated the town was undeniable. In the end, those 16 days reminded me that the glory of sport does not lie in victory but in the pursuit of excellence. And, for the true skiers who were fortunate enough to be in Whistler during the Games, the powder was excellent. – Mike Berard

This article can be found in the current issue of The Ski Journal. Subscribe now. And for more Olympic awesomeness, check out how good it was on film below.

These are basic guidelines for my personal expectations for 2011 and beyond. For a goal to be successful and realistic, it must be measurable. I will be setting more stringent milestones for all of these in private but I wanted to share the larger scope of my goals with you in order for them to be witnessed, if only by the 7 people that regularly read my blog. Thank you to both Lisa Richardson and Steve Casimiro for a touch of inspiration, both in recent blog posts and throughout 2010.

Here’s to a successful, but more importantly, happy 2011. – Mike Berard

Overarching Goal: Live Well

1. Quit biting my fingernails
2. Learn how to enjoy quality food and drink in the correct quantities, at the correct times.
3. Write poetry.
4. Love my wife, my family and my friends in the greatest capacity I am capable of.
5. Examine my prejudices and find their roots.
6.  Be faithful to my passions; creativity, storytelling, playing in the outdoors, travel and music.
7. Let the constraints and the expectations of a “career path” fall behind.
8. Pay back (or pay forward) every favour extended to me in 2010, whether financial or otherwise.
9. Experiment.
10. Exercise.
11. Spend more time offline. Make more money from time spent online.
12. Rediscover photography.
13. Slow the fuck down.
14. Find optimism. Fight pessimism. Become comfortable with adversity.
15. Shake the Dust.

Any words I use to speak to the power and beauty of this video will only take away from it, so I’ll let Anis Mojgani speak for himself. – Mike Berard