“Idiots try to put a mirror up to the burgeoning 1990s snowboard scene, but accidentally turn it on themselves instead. Blinded by the glare of their own stupidity, they head out on the kind of travel adventures where someone has to climb into a board bag that’s strapped to the roof rack because they’ve forgotten their passport.” – Chris Moran
When I asked former editor and cover star Chris Moran to write a blurb to pitch the inevitable Whitelines biopic to producers, this is what he came back with. If there was ever a more succinct way to describe the Whitelines Snowboarding Magazine journey over the last 30 years, I’m yet to hear it. Back in 1995, when snowboarding had crawled out of the primordial ooze and was slowly evolving into the energy-drink-fuelled, Olympic-partaking, quad-corking, multi-million dollar behemoth it is today, Jim Peskett and Tudor ‘Chod’ Thomas, both formerly of Snowboard World Magazine, decided to start what can only be referred to as a debaucherously British snowboarding fanzine. With Machiavellian savoir-faire, over the course of the next three decades, they, and the subsequent staffers, took Whitelines from a tiny office in Oxfordshire to a global media powerhouse.
“Who knew what others thought of what we did? I mean, face-to-face feedback was always good, and as long as we annoyed our publisher Jim, we just thought things were going well!”
The Early Days
The 90s were rife with snowboard mags; everyone and their mother was trying to get a slice of the action, so how did Whitelines manage to stand out in these early days of oversaturation? As Chris says, “I think the fact that we had no budget, no real understanding of how to make a magazine, and no idea of things like spelling, storytelling or basic decency. Those concepts definitely worked really well in our favour. We launched kinda pre-email, so the first two seasons were “written’ with us calling in to the office and having Milly – the company secretary- type the articles out as we read them from scraps of paper and often over a pre-paid phone card from a public phone box in god-knows-where. It’s why spelling errors like “Tignes” would often appear in print as “teens”. But it allowed us to actually be at the heart of the snowboard scene. Plus, there was no way for readers to complain. Pre-social media, we were all just screaming at the moon. Who knew what others thought of what we did? I mean, face-to-face feedback was always good, and as long as we annoyed our publisher Jim, we just thought things were going well!”


