SnoWest News: Riding With Tyler & Zach

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December 15, 2009

Riding With Tyler & Zach

As the two brothers peeked over a rocky

cliff face on a ragged ridge in western

Wyoming, you could see the apprehension,

excitement and tension building.

They had dropped this ridge dozens of

times. It wasn’t a matter of how far you fall,

but rather how fast you launch. Once you

roll off the cornice, gravity takes over and

somewhere between 120-135 feet below

you finally catch up to the steep slope falling

down into a steep canyon.

But several factors were in play on this

crisp spring morning.

First, about six inches of fresh snow was

covering the slope—whether it would be

enough to absorb the drop or just enough

to disguise a hard landing. Second, several

small slides had broken the day before,

indicating that the snow was somewhat

unstable. A hard landing could also bring

down the entire slope, putting the rider in

jeopardy.

And third, although Tyler and Zach

Ogden were very familiar with the ridge

and the cliffs that line it, it was on that very

ridge where Zach had broken his back less

than a couple of months earlier. Although

he was under doctor’s orders to stay off the

snow for the remainder of the season, here

he was, looking for a good spot to catch

some air.

There was quite a discussion as the two

looked for the most inviting spot to drop.

Tyler was holding the trump card. “Zach,

you can’t go first. You shouldn’t even go at

all. I’ll hit it and radio back up if I think your

back can handle it.”

But Zach wasn’t quite that reluctant to

give the upper hand to his brother. “My

back’s feeling fine. Besides, there’s plenty

of cushion to make this a soft drop.”

Ultimately, Tyler won out. “Just wait and

see how my jump turns out,” the Odgen

twin said as he fired up his Ski-Doo Summit

8 and accelerated off the edge.

The launch was impressive. The Summit

stayed flat and flew out off the cliff and

landed rather abruptly well over 100 feet

down the slope. From all appearances, it

was a nice, clean drop. However, as the

Summit raced down the powder-covered

slope, a hidden avalanche slough grabbed

the front end of the sled and catapulted

Tyler another 30 feet down the slope as the

sled followed in true end-over-end fashion.

There was a deathly silence as Tyler’s

body rag-dolled down the slope before

coming to a stop about 30 yards from his

snowmobile. For several moments he just

lay there, before propping his bruised body

up and trying to regain his senses. Slowly

he got to his feet and stumbled down to

where his snowmobile had come to rest.

“Are you okay?” Zach radioed down

from his vantage point up on the cliff.

“That hurt,” replied Tyler.

“What did you hit?”

“Don’t know. But it was hard. And it did

a number on my sled.”

“I’m thinking I need to stay right of

you,” Zach said.

“Zach, don’t be stupid. It’s not worth

chancing it with your back.”

“I’ll be careful. I won’t get as much air

as you.”

“Don’t be stupid. Just roll off the edge.

Save the big air for another day.”

Although the discussion went on for

several minutes, on this day Tyler won

out, mainly because Zach knew the snow

wasn’t really that great for big drops …

and Tyler probably needed his help putting

the Summit back together for the rest

of the ride.

Riding with the Ogden brothers is much

different that the perception you get from

the stories about them—some of which

have become almost legendary. There’s

probably not a safer, more aware pair of

extreme riders around.

Unlike many who just hit the snow at

full throttle and pound the slopes until

something bad happens, Tyler and Zach

pay attention to snow conditions, weather

patterns and those around them. They

pack radios, avalanche beacons, safety

and emergency gear and common sense.

They both realize that the most useful tool

in their possession is their brain—they

anticipate and try to prevent most serious

situations.

If the snow is unpredictable or unstable,

they look to areas that don’t have “death

traps,” or the type of terrain that can take

away one’s ability to react. If a storm is

moving in, they watch the weather, making

sure they aren’t caught in the wrong area if

white-out conditions occur.

They are aware of the riding ability level

of those who may have joined them. And

it’s not uncommon for one to go to a fellow

rider who may be out of his comfort

zone and either show him what to do, ride

his sled through the treacherous areas, or

literally take rider and sled up a slope. And

they don’t do it in a way that is demeaning

or condescending … it’s more like they

are trying to help the other rider get past a

“bad spot” that could ruin a ride.

If you don’t know the Ogden brothers,

it is somewhat hard to tell them apart.

They’re twins, 29 years old, from Idaho

Falls, ID. Both are married to what they

describe as “hotties.” Both have young

children at home, so their personal responsibilities

keep them somewhat grounded.

They also own/manage their own separate

businesses.

Each year they put about 600 miles on

their snowmobiles (not counting air time).

They do have a favorite location that is

void of groomed trails and has a tendency

to grow some fantastic cornices.

Here is some basic info about Tyler

and Zach that we gained in an exclusive

SledHeads interview.

SH—When did you first start to snowmobile?

Tyler—Zach and I would take turns driving

a dark blue late 80s Polaris.

Our dad

would take off and tell us, “If you stop,

you’re going to get stuck … so stay on

the gas.” So we would ride double and try

to stay in his track while keeping the sled

engaged at a steady momentum.

Zach—I first started sledding when I was

like 8 or 10. My first real sled was a Polaris

Indy Sport 340. And I loved it.

SH--When was the first time you can

remember that you actually “pushed the

envelope” on a snowmobile?

Tyler—I remember that day like it was

yesterday.

I had a couple of friends who

would always tell me about all the huge

cornices that they hit. I knew they were all

talk, so I took them to the “Creek” (our

spot). Zach was gone, so I was by myself. I

knew where a couple of cliff hangers were

so I went to them and said, “Okay, here

are some cornices.”

My friends all went

quiet, except one. He said: “You’re the

movie star.”

That’s all it took.

I hit every cornice I saw that day and I

got the hang of it and liked it. We rode all

day and I continued to push the limits until

we came to this one bowl—it was incredible.

The cornice was massive, the biggest

by a long, long ways. I knew I would not

feel like the day was a good one unless I

dropped it.

So I went to the top with an

older guy, Blaine Simmons. We were looking

over the edge and Blaine said, “Tyler,

that is too much, that wall is over 30 feet.”

But I was already walking back to my sled

making a boot path.

He started waving his arms and yelling,

“No, wait.” I wasn’t paying attention to

him. I was thinking about what I needed to

and how the sequence of events would

play through my mind.

I took off and as the snow disappeared

into air, I felt the rush. I landed and the

rebound was so intense it knocked my

goggles off. But I knew I made it.

After

that day my bro (Zach) and I made these

cornices just a part of the ride and that

last cornice is still the biggest hit in the

.Creek.

We taped it and ran out of tape

around 130 feet.

Zach—The first real event was when

we were riding in our favorite area and we

decided to ride up to the biggest cornice

on one of the biggest mountains. It’s a

spot where you either need a turbo just to

get on top of it or you have to ride a very

aggressive knife-edge, wind-blown ridge.

You’re on top of the world, but you can’t

see anything over the cornice … and you

don’t dare walk out on the end of it because

it could break. Some guy at the bottom

directs us one way or another for the right

line. The takeoff was slightly uphill, almost

like a ramp off the edge of a skyscraper. I

just had to commit and let the adrenaline fill

my body and let pure instinct take over as I

started to fall. It’s surprising how much time

I had in the air before hitting the snow down

the slope. The initial rebound was another

30 feet down the slope.

That’s when I knew I was pushing it,

coming off that cornice. There is nothing

better. And that bad boy only shows up on

really good snow years.

SH—Coming off cornices can be pretty

hard on things. What’s the life expectancy

of your sled?

Tyler—Three years … I take care of my

sleds and try not to wreck. Crashes suck.

Zach—I’d say the life expectancy of my

sled is probably better than most. I baby

my sled. I wipe it off with a diaper. It

stays in an enclosed trailer and after each

ride I leave a heater going all night to melt

off any snow or to evaporate condensation.

SH—What would you consider a “perfect

day” of riding?

Tyler—Big air by far; hang time is the

rush. All your veins dilate, everything goes

into slow motion. Your blood vessels and

lungs are able to hold more blood and

oxygen, making you super human for just

a second. Adrenalin is pulsing throughout

your body. That is the reason you do it

again, and again—the anticipation and the

climax. We have all had the taste … but

how neat is it that as a rider you know how

to get that fix if you want it.

Once I had to go to Jackson Hole, WY,

for business. I had to get some blueprints

to bid a job. Zach went riding.

was so mad

that I couldn’t go. So after I got the blueprints,

I drove as fast

as I could down to

the Hoback [just east of Alpine, WY] where

Zach had parked. I didn’t have my sled or

any riding gear. So I started breaking in

everyone’s vehicles to find what I needed.

I found a helmet and overalls in one truck

and a radio in Zach’s trailer. I borrowed a

sled from another trailer. I went up on the

hill and radioed Zach. We hooked up, went

to some big cornices and hucked. I ended

up getting the bid for the job. That was a

perfect day.

Zach—The perfect day would be

about12-18 inches of powder and a good

base. I would want all of my hits to be solid,

with 5-6 good drops on a big loop ride.

Of course Ty or I would be the first to hit

the drops. If you want to really go big, all

the conditions must be correct. The slightest

mistake means a trip to the hospital. I

have broken almost every bone in my body

… this year it was my back on a cliff we

had talked about dropping for six years. I

landed it and rode to where everyone was

sitting, then rolled off my sled and bled.

SH—

You have a very extreme style of riding.

Do you tend to have more spectacular

crashes?

Tyler—I very rarely go down. In fact, the

crash I took the day we rode together was

one of the first in years. I try to be careful

and make good decisions … more brains

than balls.

Zach—How could anyone forget my

summit speed record up the backside of

Jefferson five or six years earlier? I told Ty,

“Watch this. I’m going to show you how to

use NOS.” Then I held the button down. I

have no idea how fast I was going when I

shot out of the top. I grabbed the brake,

slammed into the over-hanging cornice on

the chute that falls 2,000 feet down and

went end-over-end down the hill. (It was my

dad’s sled so I asked Josh Skinner not to

put the crash in the video.)

When I broke my back last February

making a big drop, the doctor told me I

was lucky to not be in a wheelchair. He said

I broke it as bad as one can without getting

paralyzed. Three weeks later I was out

riding again … and on my last ride of the

season I dropped an 80-footer.

Once I dropped a cornice in flat light

and broke my left wrist, my right thumb

and almost my nose. Tyler laughed at me.

That’s kind of funny, we usually don’t get

too concerned for each other. We understand

that if it’s serious we got each other’s

back. And if not, we just laugh at the other

one rolling around bleeding.

I don’t trust anyone like I do my bro. In

the hills no one ... and that is mutual. I know

if we were to get in a slide he would find

me and I would find him … or die trying.

SH—Does your family worry about you

when you’re out riding?

Tyler—No, they understand I don’t try

to kill myself.

This is just the result of years

of riding and the feel of the sled. You’re

always in control. It’s almost automatic; you

can counter the counter.

Zach—They don’t care. But then, they

have never really seen Ty or I go big. My

wife knew how I was when she married

me—that is why I love her. During my first

year of marriage, I went sledding in a storm

up in the Jefferson area and got ahead of

my group. I went to the top of the mountain

which was 10,000 feet in a pure white

out. I sat there waiting and waiting, but no

one showed. So I went to go down to find

them. But I ended up in a canyon where the

snow never gets set up.

I knew that I would be unable to climb

out. I couldn’t even go downhill without

getting stuck. It was deep and I couldn’t

see five feet in front of me. I radioed to

my brother to call Search and Rescue as

soon as he got out. It took them about 7

or 8 hours to get out. So I dug a snow cave

and waited until like 1 a.m. for the storm

to clear.

Then I dug a path with my shovel about

100 yards long and four feet wide so I

could get a run to try to climb out. I tried

17 times until I was able to sidehill out of

that canyon. I met Tyler with the Search

and Rescue on the trail about a mile or so

down. An ambulance was waiting with my

wife and a lot of friends.

My wife knows I’m a survivor. Now I’m

on Search and Rescue in Bonneville County

and go out in the middle of the night to

help others, using my skills to help whomever.

SH—

Are the two of you competitive

when out on the snow, trying to outdo

the other?

Tyler—Of course. We tend to try to out-

air each other, but only once per hit and

usually we

are mature enough that whoever

out-airs the other, there isn’t anything said

except a congrats and

it’s off to the next

set.

Zach—Between Ty and myself, Tyler is

probably the most competitive. More than

anything, we want to go bigger than our

friends (we never let them get a bigger

drop). And there is only one other riding

buddy who will follow us off our big hits.

SH—

Of the two of you, who is more

likely to get into the most mischief on the

mountain?

Tyler—Zach. He gets wound up and the

decision-making process is clouded by the

thought of how cool this will be.

Zach—It depends on the day.

SH—What do you expect from your

snowmobile?

Tyler—I like performance, a great suspension

and reliability.

I have gone to a

Ski-Doo chassis because I like the way it

feels when I come off the edge of a cornice

or a small hit.

The position of the sled and

the way it sends is so predictable that I can

maintain control.

Zach—I have to trust my sled 100 percent.

It must be reliable with a crisp throttle

response, wanting to jerk the track immediately

when I hit the gas. I want to be able to

sidehill down a road on one ski without the

sled wanting to go one way or the other.

And it can’t be heavy. Heavy sleds can fly

… but they don’t land.

SH—Now that the two of you are getting

a little older, is it affecting your aggressiveness?

Tyler—Not yet. The snow conditions

seem to affect the

way I ride more and

more. When there’s less snow the cornices

are smaller, I have to be a little more creative

and find other hits that I may have passed

up before. Now I tend to have a more optimistic

outlook on existing conditions.

Zach—I’m getting way more aggressive

as each year comes. It seems that if you

don’t push yourself in whatever sport you