From surfing the sharky, cold shores of the Oregon Coast to slashing the powwaves of Russia, Eric discusses what makes one of skiing’s most respectedmodern heroes tick. A new film with Pep Fujas and Andy Mahre a new home near Mt. Hood under construction a snowboarder/artist/model wife and a truecommitment to the “deep satisfaction of a turn.” The man has it dialed.Pollard discusses going backwards to go forwards, and not having to move to Mammoth.
“The water is cold. Sharky cold. We’re bobbing under low fog in water that looks like black glass, off the coast of northern Oregon. Ominous sandstone cliffs with teetering Sitka spruce flank us to the north and south. It’s spitting rain and despite wearing 5mm Neoprene gloves I can’t feel my hands. The last wave passed 10 minutes ago. As I’m trying to figure out if shaking my hands violently or jamming them in my armpits keeps them warmer, Eric Pollard calls out my name. I turn and paddle hard for the wave coming up fast right behind me, and uneasily stand up on my board. As I flail past Eric on the modest crest of water, I catch sight of a shit-eating grin on his face. He’s freely conceded one of the few rideable waves of the day to me, and I can tell he’s genuinely excited. He hoots as I tip into the whitewater of a thoroughly ungraceful ride…”
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