I’ve landed exactly one backflip on a snowboard.
I talked about it for an entire season.
I told people it was in the bag. Like it was something I could just pull out whenever I wanted, probably next to a busy lift queue. I even nodded when asked if I was working on doubles (which is embarrassing looking back). I was convinced there would be more.
There were no more.
The One
That one backflip happened on a bluebird day, on a natural jump I’d hit a hundred times, on a run when everything lined up just right. Speed was perfect. Takeoff was clean. No expectations. No crowds. No pressure.
I didn’t even think about it. Which was probably the key.
Something in my head just flicked and I went for it. My body did the thing before the my brain had time to interfere. I saw sky. I saw snow. I felt the board come back under me. I rode away.
Clean.
Well… there may have been a slight hand drag.
I’ll let you be the judge.
The Evidence
Sadly I’m old enough that this went down in an age before GoPro. All that exists is the grainy picture sequence from my buddies old Sony. Still, that’s enough for me!
The Aftermath
I remember laughing. Not celebrating. Just laughing like something had gone slightly wrong in a good way.
We were ridiculously stoked for the rest of the day. My buddies were throwing (and sometimes landing) new tricks in the pure “stoke afterglow.” It was epic.
But… from that moment on, the problem started.
Because once you’ve landed one, it sort of becomes a skill you’re supposed to own.
And I didn’t.
Every attempt after that came with expectations. Cameras (real videocameras this time). Friends watching. Nerves.
I tried again a handful of times. Each time I thought about the takeoff too much. Or I hesitated. Or I speed checked before the lip and still went anyway. One under-rotated. One over-rotated. A couple felt very close to some pretty significant injuries.
Eventually I stopped trying.
Not because I didn’t want it badly enough, but because I understood the risk differently.
The Present
I guide now. I teach. I’ve done mountain rescue courses. I’ve seen what happens when tricks go wrong, especially at the wrong age. I’ve helped toboggan people down who are way more freestyle-skilled than myself.
So… that one backflip lives in a very specific place in my memory. It belongs to a younger version of me, with fresh knees and no fear. I probably don’t need to drag it into the present and prove anything.
I still think about it sometimes though. Usually when I see a clean, mellow kicker and everything feels a little too perfect. There’s a brief flicker of “maybe”.
Then I ride past it and keep going.
Right call?
Probably.
Snowboarding has a way of humbling you as you get older. Most park rats inevitably drift more towards carving and powder. Even those (like me) who swear it’ll never happen.
I guess that’s the point of this article. A reminder that some things are allowed to be one-offs. Little private wins. Snowboarding doesn’t always need to be about progression.
I landed a backflip once.
It was enough (for now…)
