Powder Faces by Matt Georges


Remi Lamazouere. Photo: Matt Georges

Picture the scene: it’s a perfect, bluebird day. You’re out with friends, pushing each other, jumping off cliffs, spotting landings and cranking some beautiful turns on virgin faces. You spot a mate who’s stopped to get a picture and realise he’s just below a particularly deep bank of snow. You shout down to say you’re going to straightline and spray a nearby windlip, and ask him to get a picture. As you pick up speed, you’re audibly giggling into your coat’s snug collar. By the time he realises that your trajectory isn’t as expected, and that you’re actually aiming for him, it’s too late to do anything about. He tries to turn his face away just as you drop a shoulder, lean back, and unleash a hundredweight of snow over his hunched outline, shouting “Tuuuube!” He’s now Kelly Slater, deep in the barrel, with no hope of making it out unscathed. You’re laughing your tits off.

Remi Lamazouere butter. Photo: Matt Georges
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