The following article was originally printed in the October 2026 Issue of Slush. To get more articles and subscribe, click here.

Relaxed at Speed // The Blake Moller Interview

Interview by Stan Leveille

Photos by Julian (Perly) Petry 

Blake Moller picked me up in Salt Lake City to do this interview. Gracious. Timely. It was the dead of summer and 109 degrees outside, the kind of heat that makes even crossing a parking lot feel like a bad decision. I opened the door to his car and immediately had to wrestle with a large, unkempt purple parachute exploding out of the passenger seat.

I had to laugh.

I knew Blake was into this kind of stuff. Speed flying, jumping out of things, generally finding new ways to make gravity more consequential. But seeing the parachute there, spilling into the exact seat I was supposed to occupy on our way to conduct an interview about his life, felt almost too fitting.

Blake is, by almost every measure, a quintessential snowboarder. I actually think that is important. Maybe even increasingly rare. Snowboarding can feel like a gimmick sometimes. Everyone needs an angle, an aesthetic, a carefully cultivated reason you should care. Blake is more meat and potatoes. A replica, or perhaps a modern recreation, of snowboarding’s founding stock. Extreme. Brave. Ready to do big shit. Not afraid of a little coverage along the way. He wants to travel. He wants to progress. He wants to build something. And, refreshingly, he is not embarrassed to admit that he wants people to see it.

The timing of all this is interesting. Freeride is headed to the Olympics, and Blake suddenly finds himself standing somewhere near the intersection of what snowboarding has always romanticized and what it may become. He knows the Freeride World Tour better than most, a circuit now positioned as a pathway toward the biggest sporting spectacle on Earth. He has competed. He has filmed. He has ridden terrifying mountains. And through all of it, he has managed to build a name the decidedly old-fashioned way: by being really fucking good at snowboarding and by being genuinely liked by the people around him.

No gimmicks. No bullshit.

That is why this interview feels worth putting on paper. Not as a prediction that Blake Moller will become this or that, or win some medal that doesn’t exist yet, but as a stamp in time. Here is a snowboarder we believe deserves the ink. The big photos where the mountain takes up two pages and the person responsible for the whole thing is reduced to a tiny speck somewhere in the middle. The questions. The record of where his head was at while all of this was happening.

Because for someone who spends an unusual amount of his life moving very fast through objectively dangerous situations, Blake talks an awful lot about being calm.

Mentality, as he puts it, is everything.

Maybe that’s the trick. Relaxed at speed.

Let’s start by talking about the parachute in the backseat of your car right now. Is that the proper way to travel with a parachute, or are you just, like, planning on parachuting?

No. That's actually what I was doing this morning. I went up to Little Cottonwood and had it in my car. I was speed flying with a friend. Then I was running around afterward and didn't have time to pack it up.

How do you get into something like speed flying?

I got into it through skydiving. I met some friends who were into speed flying, and they were like, "Dude, this shit is way sicker, way cheaper, and you get to hike." With skydiving, you're paying to hop in a plane. With speed flying, you hike up a mountain and fly back down. Honestly, it's the best part of skydiving, and it's way cheaper. Run off a mountain, then you fly the terrain.

What got you into skydiving in the first place? Just an adrenaline junkie thing?

It just sounded fun. I did one tandem jump and immediately thought, "Oh, fuck. I want to do this alone." After doing it for a while, though, I realized there's only so much you can do before your canopy comes out. That's actually the fun part, which is why speed flying is so much better. You're basically surfing the air. You can fly wherever you want. We'll go camping, find a mountain, and if the wind's good, it's like, "Yeah, let's go."

Is there any licensing involved?

No, which is part of why it's so sick. Anybody can do it. You buy all the gear through Facebook groups. It's pretty loose. People just ship it to you. That said, the people I fly with are psychos.

Do you know anyone who's gotten seriously hurt?

Yeah. It's super gnarly. Not really my close friends, but it's a small community, so you'll meet people on hikes or flights and hear some pretty sad stories. The cool thing is you can make it as mellow or as gnarly as you want. Some people are threading insanely tight terrain and flying lines I wouldn't touch.

Does it connect to snowboarding at all, or does it feel like a completely separate thing?

Yeah, definitely. The biggest overlap is being in the mountains and making good decisions while doing something you're excited about. You're also flying fast through terrain and around trees, so that part feels familiar. Honestly, it's mostly just a way to avoid hiking back down. Hiking down sucks.

Snowboarding seems to be so heavily based in chasing progression. Bigger tricks, new tricks, the next thing. But that trick progression aspiration we see in a lot of competitive snowboarding isn’t really a part of backcountry yet. What is your relationship with “progression” in snowboarding?

Progression is definitely a huge part of snowboarding. Learning a new trick or landing something that once felt out of reach is one of the best feelings there is.

But in the backcountry, I get that same feeling from riding a line the way I imagined it. You might find the perfect feature for a backside or frontside spin, but you're not just spinning until you hit the ground. It's more about looking at the terrain and asking, What's going to be difficult, look smooth, and flow naturally?

Instead of trying the hardest trick I can think of, maybe I slow it down a bit or go a little bigger. For me, it's all about how everything flows together. There are so many little details the average person might never notice—how you're managing sluff, your speed, your line, how steep the terrain is. When all those pieces come together and you ride it exactly the way you pictured it from the bottom, that's the feeling I'm chasing. That's the progression I'm looking for.

I feel like you're the only snowboarder I know who I discovered through the Freeride World Tour.

For me, my older brother was doing it, so it felt like a cool way to travel with him. At the time I was in college because my parents were basically like, "You need a better plan than just moving out west to snowboard." Then I qualified for the World Tour, stayed with my brother, and we just kept it rolling.

Seeing as this is now relevant to aspiring olympians, how do you qualify for the World Tour?

You compete on the Freeride World Qualifier circuit. It's kind of like the Rev Tour. You travel around the U.S., with one stop in Canada, and your overall results determine who qualifies. When I did it, only one rider made it through.

You've won the Freeride World Tour, podiumed at Natural Selection, and over the last couple winters you've been filming more than ever. If you had to rank it, how do you see your career? Do you think of yourself as a competitor, a filmer, or both?

The past two years have honestly been the most ideal winters for me. I love filming all year, but I also like tapping into comp mode every once in a while. It's just something different, and it's fun to have one event you're looking forward to.

Natural Selection is perfect because you get that competition, but the best part is really the week leading up to it. Everybody has such crazy schedules that it's rare to get that many people together on one mountain.

My ideal winter would just be sledding as much as possible to film, with maybe one event.

Is it a struggle balancing those two mindsets? In competition, style matters, but at the end of the day you just have to land your run. When you're filming, it's a lot easier to be picky.

Yeah. It's funny, I was talking to Luke [Lund] about this. You go back and watch a Natural Selection run or a Freeride World Tour run and think, "Fuck, that was broadcast live and so many people saw that."

Are you really picky about your clips? Are you someone who's saying, "Fuck, we have to hit that again?"

For sure. I'm pretty loose by nature, so I almost have to force myself to be like, "No, that wasn't good enough." Then I'll keep trying.

That's one thing I like about filming in the backcountry. Even if it's just you hitting something, you've usually got five good tries. So I'd rather keep trying than get to June or July, look back at my clips, and think, "Fuck, I really should've done that again." That's the worst feeling. Even if I get a make, I'll usually try it again.

Has filming with people like Hupp helped shape that mindset?

For sure. I've been filming with Hupp for a while, and he's all about taste over everything. I'll be like, "Dude, I really want to do a seven off this," and he'll be like, "That's really whack. What about just doing an indy?" And I'm like, "Yeah, I'm down."

We know each other so well now that I can tell him my idea over the radio, and he'll either be like, "All right," or, "Fuck yeah, dude." You can tell immediately what he thinks.

It's the same with the people I ride with. Everybody's so good, and they're honest. They'll tell me if something's stupid, or they'll tell me to keep trying because it's worth it. Everybody just wants the end result to be good. Sometimes that means I have to step aside if someone else has something really sick going on, and vice versa.

You grew up in a family of pretty diehard skiers, and your brother competed on the Freeride World Tour. Is there anything snowboarders could learn from skiers that might be hard for snowboarders to hear?

(Laughs.) I'll tell you straight up. Just point it.

That's kind of what I feel like they give off. My brothers were always about going fast and taking falls. If you watch old Manuel Diaz clips, his older brother is one of the most underrated psychotic skiers ever. You can see how that translates into Manuel's riding.

There have been so many times I've looked at a landing and thought, "That's kind of flat." If I was with my brothers, they'd just look at me like, "What?" It goes. I think that's the biggest thing. Go fast and keep trying.

Having been around you at contests, one thing I've noticed is how calm you are. Some riders become completely different people on competition day, but you seem pretty much the same. Is that real, or am I just seeing it wrong?

No, that's real. The more you build it up in your head, the worse it gets.

With something like Natural Selection, it's one venue, so you'll randomly find yourself thinking about it throughout the year. Sometimes that's good, but once I'm there, the last thing I want to do is overanalyze it. If you pulled up to that zone with your friends on sleds, you'd be trying to ride the same way. The only difference is there's a crowd and a contest going on.

A lot of that comes from the people I'm around. I spent a lot of time with Bryn, and he's super chill. Nils is the same way. We're just talking, laughing, and hanging out like we normally would.

I've found that if I get too serious, it shows in my snowboarding. Even this morning, I was nervous going speed flying because I hadn't done it in a while. Then you're walking up with your buddies, talking shit, and before you know it you're doing it. I try to bring that same mentality into contests. The more relaxed I am, the calmer I ride.

That said, I watched Mark this year and saw how locked in he gets, and it obviously works for him. I definitely had a moment where I thought, "Damn... maybe I should be more serious. Maybe I'm doing this wrong."

I've watched Travis interact with a lot of snowboarders over the years, and he's not someone who connects with everybody. But when I watched your duel in Jackson, it felt like he immediately saw something in you. He seemed genuinely interested in riding with you more. What's that been like?

It's so dope because [pauses]  he's Travis. Growing up, you build this picture of who he is, and then you get to know him and realize how much he genuinely loves snowboarding and how much he cares about it. That's been really cool to see.

The other thing that's been awesome is that he's willing to help. This year I got to ride with him a lot more, and one of the first things I told him was, "Don't think for a second I'm trying to big dog anything. Tell me what I'm fucking up. If I rode a cooked-ass line, tell me."

I think part of why we've gotten along is that I'm open to hearing it. I like pushing myself, I like trying, and you can tell he's the best for a reason. He's worked so hard at it.

Is it intimidating? Even just working production around Travis, I've had moments where I thought, "I'm going to die working with Travis Rice." Is there ever a point where he's taking you into terrain and you're thinking, "What the fuck?"

[Laughs.] Yeah, for sure.

This year we ended up in this super suspect zone. There was a huge cliff below us, the snow was terrible, and we had to jump a cornice just to get back into the zone.

What I liked about it was that it reminded me of the speed flying crew I spend time with. They're all so gnarly, but they laugh at everything. That's kind of the vibe Travis has too. Instead of panicking, you're just joking around, and before you know it you're down and it's all good.

I remember him looking at me and saying, "You good?" I was like, "Yeah." He just goes, "All right."

There are definitely times I'm scared. Of course. But when I look back, those are the moments I remember the most.

Beyond the snowboarding, one thing I remember is Travis trying to explain crypto to you.

[Laughs] Yeah... I don't think I retained a single word he said.

It seems like there's a lot going on in Travis' brain beyond snowboarding. I'm guessing you've had some pretty entertaining conversations with him.

Oh, yeah. One time I was just trying to get him going and asked, "What do you think you were in a past life?"

He took a couple deep breaths, sat there thinking for probably 10 seconds, then looked at me and said, "I actually know what I was. I was a Japanese samurai."

Then he launched into a 30-minute explanation.

I was expecting him to throw out something random, like, "I was a pirate," or whatever. Instead, he'd clearly thought about it. That's just how he is. He's super methodical about everything, and it's really fun to get him talking about that kind of stuff.

One time he told me the human body was designed to last 900 years. I remember thinking, "Man... that's exactly what someone who's secretly 900 years old would say."

[Laughs.] Yeah.

He's got a lot of ideas like that. Even when I don't really know how to respond, it's always interesting to hear where his mind goes.

You mentioned on The Bomb Hole that you'd like to continue the kind of backcountry trajectory that Travis and Gigi set. What is it about the way they approach snowboarding that makes you want to follow that path?

I think what's cool is that they've both done it completely differently. Travis and Gigi are both the best in their own ways.

More than anything, they both genuinely love snowboarding. That's why they're still doing it and still pushing themselves.

Their riding is so different, but that's what's cool about snowboarding. Every snowboarder knows how insane Gigi's riding is, and anybody can watch Travis and think, "That was fucked up." You don't even have to know snowboarding to appreciate it.

I think there's something really special about finding a big line and doing something that feels good.

So maybe what you're saying is you want to make snowboarding that stands on its own. Something anyone can appreciate, not just people who understand the technical side of it.

Yeah, exactly. I just want to do what feels good to me. For me, that's going big, going fast, and riding the kind of terrain I'd want to ride anyway.

I'm not the kind of rider who's going to find a small feature and do a sick handplant. That's just not my thing.

I think you have to play to your strengths. They both did that perfectly.

Now that you're working with people like Gigi and Travis, are there still lines or terrain that feel out of reach? Is it a matter of budget, or does it feel more like an opportunity waiting to happen?

Honestly, I see it more as an opportunity.

People always say, "It used to be different," but everything has always been changing. That's just snowboarding.

I'd love to spend time in Alaska riding out of helicopters because it's the most efficient way to get into the sickest mountains you'll ever see. Those are the mountains I've always pictured riding. You get out there and it's just unreal. You feel so good. You're so fired up. It's the best.

Obviously there are still realities. I don't have $250,000 sitting around for a heli budget, and companies have to be willing to support something like that. That's part of it.

But I don't really look at it as being out of reach. I look at it as something to work toward.

Now that Travis is in your corner, have you noticed more opportunities because of that?

Yeah, for sure. I ended up getting hooked up with Circe [Wallace, agent.] . I don't know if that was directly because of Travis, but he definitely helped.

The biggest example was Alaska. I'd been trying to make that trip happen for three years. Then Travis was like, "Do you want to come to Alaska?" He told me how much money we'd need, drafted an email, sent it off, and two days later it was funded.

Hopefully Harrison hears this.

That was huge because before that, the response was always, "Really? You think you're ready?" And it's like, "Fuck, I don't know. I've just got to try."

More than anything, though, it's been really cool just riding with him and seeing how he approaches everything. Watching his videos, he's this larger-than-life figure. Then you see the process firsthand, and you realize he'll come back and say, "Fuck, I didn't do that the way I wanted."

I kind of assumed he did everything perfectly. Seeing that side of him really humanizes the whole thing.

You're someone who's competed a lot, but you also seem genuinely hyped when other people ride well. Some competitors are secretly hoping the rider before them falls. I don't really get that impression from you. Do you see that as an advantage?

Yeah, I do.

One thing I learned from the Freeride World Tour is that if it's going to be broadcast live, I want it to look as good as possible. So when people are doing crazy shit at Natural Selection, it's like, "Fuck yeah."

It also makes me rethink my own run. I'll watch somebody stomp something and think, "Wait... I was really just going to straight air that?" It raises the level for everybody.

It's also just hard not to get excited when you're watching someone do something insane right in front of you. It's so different from watching it later at a premiere. Seeing it happen in real time is incredible.

I think it's the same mentality I have while filming. Everybody wants the end result to be as good as it can be.

Do you think that mindset also makes it harder for people to get in your head?

Maybe. I grew up the middle child. All I ever wanted to do was push my brothers' buttons, so I think I ended up with pretty thick skin.

People definitely try to get in your head sometimes, but it doesn't really do much for me. I don't really give a fuck.

I think that's an advantage. It's interesting because your whole approach seems to be that having a positive mentality actually leads to better riding.

For sure. Dude, mentality is everything. With anything.

That's a good interview title. (Laughs.) Let's talk about freeride and the Olympics. You stepped away from the Freeride World Tour for a couple years, right?

Yeah. I competed in 2021 and 2022, then took two years off because I was just ready to move on.

Coming back last year was honestly a breath of fresh air. I have so many good memories from the Freeride World Tour. I love those people, and it gave me such a cool perspective on snowboarding.

The skiers were one of my favorite parts. They always wanted to follow the snowboarders down the mountain. They'd be like, "No, I want to see what you're looking at." I always thought I'd be trying to keep up with them, so that was pretty cool.

What made you decide to come back?

Part of it was that I felt bad for just disappearing. People dedicate their entire careers to the Freeride World Tour. I always knew I didn't want that to be my career, but it gave me so much that it felt wrong to just leave without looking back. I wanted to show some respect.

The other part was the Olympic announcement. I knew they were going to make a big deal out of it, and this was the first event with national teams. There were only a few riders from each country, and I thought, "I've got a week in February. I'm down."

I honestly didn't overthink it. It was just, "Yeah. Fuck it. I'll do it."

So you kind of knew going into that event that the stage was being set. There had been rumors for years about freeride entering the Olympics. When you went to Andorra, you knew it was basically a test event, right?

Yeah. It was the week before the Olympics started, and all the FIS executives were there to see how it would work as an Olympic event. They were supposed to announce it the following week, right before the Olympics.

Then it got pushed back because, honestly, the event was kind of a shit show. The women's event didn't even finish, someone had to get helicoptered out, and the weather was terrible. There were a lot of things that were probably hard for the Olympic people to see.

The riders were kind of used to it. It was just like, "Yeah, this is freeride."

There are a lot of people who are skeptical about freeride entering the Olympics. The argument is that putting something called "freeride" into a judged competition kind of goes against what freeriding is supposed to be. Do you have an opinion on that?

Yeah, it's interesting. You watch Olympic slopestyle or halfpipe now, and it's insane. If I were nine years old watching the last Olympic halfpipe contest, I'd think, "There's no way."

Freeride feels a little more relatable. Sure, the snow might be terrible or it might be perfect, but you can still go ride that same mountain later. Everybody rides down a mountain. I think people overlook that part.

I haven't fully made up my mind yet. I think it really comes down to how they choose to do it. If you're going to have an Olympic freeride event and only give riders one run, I don't think that's enough. You've got to give people more opportunities than that if you want the best riding.

Do you think it's more about the format than the Olympics themselves?

Yeah, I think so. Judging is always going to be complicated. Every judged sport gets criticized. What I loved about the Freeride World Tour wasn't even the contest. Your run lasts a minute, then you're back to riding with everybody. That's the part people don't see.

I know Sage brought up the idea that we're going to end up with coaches carrying iPads around the mountain, and yeah, that would suck. But is that actually what happens? Skateboarding went into the Olympics. Did skate culture suddenly become that? I don't really think so.

I think you make it what you want to make it. If the right people get involved and care about making it as good as possible, then I think it could be really cool. I'd love to see riders from Natural Selection show up because that would only make it better.

At the end of the day, judging is always going to be imperfect. Somebody's going to win, somebody's going to lose, and people are going to argue about it. That's just the nature of judged sports.

I don't think I've completely wrapped my head around it yet. I just think it's interesting.

Craig McMorris said something on The Bomb Hole that I think applies here. You can like every kind of snowboarding, and once a year the X Games version of it happens. That doesn't negate everything else. Freeride entering the Olympics doesn't mean people suddenly can't watch video parts anymore. Both can exist.

Totally. That's a good point. And going back to Sage's comment, I thought it was hilarious. He said, "Can't wait to see coaches in the Whistler backcountry with iPads."

But those coaches aren't going to build your 100-foot jump or step up to it before you. They're probably not even going to be in the backcountry. They'll be at the resort, on whatever face the Olympics are using. Nine times out of 10, it'll probably be moguls anyway, so I don't think people need to worry too much about that.

I really like what Craig said. There are all these different styles of snowboarding. You can just tune into the one you want.

How did they decide who rode for the U.S. at the test event?

I actually got a wildcard. Lolo, who runs the tour, called me and asked if I wanted to do it. He's awesome. He's an old snowboarder, the head judge, and one of the people running everything, so he has a lot of say.

I had basically no points because I hadn't competed in years. Most of the other riders qualified by finishing as one of the top riders from their country the previous season.

It was all pretty loose, though, and I'm really curious to see what the qualification process ends up looking like.

The Olympic side of it isn't really surprising to me. They've been talking about this for years. Ever since I was riding the World Tour, everybody knew this was where it was headed.

Is qualifying the part that worries you the most?

Yeah, because if it's anything like the Rev Tour or Grand Prix system, I think you're going to lose a lot of riders. I'd be surprised if someone like Sage wanted to spend a year chasing qualifying points. There has to be another pathway.

Do you think there's a real chance the best freeriders in the world won't even be in the Olympic event?

For sure. There are so many incredible riders who could make that event amazing, but if they have to stop filming for a year or two just to qualify for one contest where they get one run, you've got to ask whether it's worth it.

Especially for riders who already have everything they want. They don't need the Olympics.

That would be a bummer.

Honestly, it'd just be cool if all the homies wanted to do it. That would make the whole thing a lot more fun.

The bigger concern for me isn't that freeride is in the Olympics. It's whether riders start feeling like they have to spend years chasing qualification instead of filming video parts or doing the things that built freeriding in the first place. If that happens, does it change the culture?

Yeah. That's actually a really good way to put it.

I think that's why the qualification system matters so much. If they get that wrong, that's where it starts to feel kind of lame.

I guess that's what Terje was really pushing back against, too. It feels like snowboarders don't have much control over any of it. So what is it about Olympic glory that makes everyone buy in?

I know. I don't really know.

When the Olympics are on, we all watch. When Red won, it was incredible. When Sage won, it was so sick. We all care.

I think they've just built it into this huge thing. It only happens every four years, hardly anybody gets to go, and for a lot of athletes, just making the Olympics is the accomplishment.

I think that's what makes it so appealing.

You look at someone like Shaun White and think, "That's incredible." Same with Red and all the other riders who make it.

I don't know. Maybe, without even realizing it, it makes you feel like you've reached some elite level. I've never really put it into words before, but I think that's probably part of it.

Maybe it's just validating.

Yeah. I think that's probably it.

It sounds like part of the tension is that snowboarding has always celebrated being counterculture, but there are undeniable benefits to mainstream acceptance.

For sure.

Look at what it's done for riders like Red. It completely changed his life. He was traveling the world, doing interviews, meeting people he never would've met otherwise. It created all these opportunities.

It's funny because everybody says the pinnacle of snowboarding is putting out the best video part. But I'm curious what happens in three years when people start asking, "Where's Olympic qualifying? How do I get there?"

For me, though, this all feels inevitable. It's what they wanted.

If it's an opportunity that helps me get where I actually want to go, whether that's more support to film in Alaska or whatever comes next, then that's worth thinking about. I don't want to do it for the wrong reasons, but I'd be lying if I said those opportunities didn't matter.

Snowboarding has always pushed this idea that being "core" means rejecting the mainstream. But back in the heyday of snowboard films, those riders were making real money, too. Nobody was turning those checks down.

Exactly.

Does it bother you hearing people say the Olympics aren't cool?

Honestly, I kind of love it.

It makes the conversation more real. If I'd grown up as a rail kid who never competed, I'd probably be saying, "What the fuck is going on?" too.

And honestly, street is probably next. Everybody's going to have the same debate all over again, and it'll probably involve a lot of our friends.

Companies care, too. That's just reality.

Do you think some of the criticism comes from people who aren't actually being offered the opportunity?

Sometimes.I honestly haven't seen that much of it in snowboarding yet, but I don't mind people talking shit. It gives everything a little personality.

People still want snowboarding to be exactly what it was in the '90s, but there are only parts of that world that still exist.

Even when we're filming now, it's easy to complain about conditions or blame the snow. Then you remember the guys before us were getting into the backcountry on sleds that barely worked and spending five days just reaching a spot.

At some point you've got to stop pointing fingers. Most of what we do comes down to you. How hard you're willing to work. How much you're willing to put into it.

It's also hard for me to imagine who's actually hurt by other people competing in freeride.

Nobody.

If everybody wants to spend a year chasing qualification points, maybe the Whistler backcountry gets a little less crowded.

And it's funny because people point to someone like Sage. Winning the Olympics opened a lot of doors for him. Obviously he's an incredible snowboarder regardless, but the Olympics absolutely became part of his story.

I think as we get closer, more riders are going to consider it. Maybe because they want to, maybe because sponsors encourage them.

You look at someone like Cass Jones. He's an unbelievable snowboarder, and he's working through the Freeride World Tour system now. You're going to see more riders like that, where the snowboarding is just undeniable.

If you care about good snowboarding, it's hard to argue with that.

If you're still trying to hold on to a version of snowboarding that doesn't really exist anymore, I don't know. I think you've got to grow with the times.

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