Freeskier Mike Douglas & the crucible of energetic evolution
words :: Leslie Anthony
The history of skiing is a convoluted affair. Probably because the utility and sport of sliding on snow is almost comically multifaceted, comprising some 30 sub-disciplines (at least a dozen of which we saw in the 2026 Winter Olympic Games, including, for the first time, ski mountaineering—aka “skimo”). If, as someone I know, you’ve spent 40 years reporting on such a fractious fray, you’ll have observed cycles, identified trends, tracked revolutions. And within this crucible of energetic evolution, certain individuals will have emerged as constants.
One of those people is Whistler’s Mike Douglas.
Having changed the face of skiing as we know it (we’ll get to that), Douglas was already a Canadian Ski Hall of Fame (CSHOF) shoo-in when I first met him around 2000. In the quarter century since, I watched his qualifications for that honour broaden and compound in every way imaginable. When he was finally inducted this past fall—the first to have the category “freeski” linked to his name (women’s freeski pioneer and advocate Sarah Burke was posthumously inducted in 2023, but under the broader discipline of “freestyle”), it was not only deserved, but fitting for a kid from Campbell River who, like most, arrived in town with no plan other than to live the Whistler dream—only to become it himself.
The CSHOF adjudicators had a no-brainer on their hands; just Googling Douglas’s contributions to skiing would have kept them busy for days. Arriving in Whistler as a young ski bum in 1988 to a scene dominated by racers and mountaineers, Douglas gravitated to moguls, where he excelled and came close to qualifying for the 1994 Winter Olympic Games in Lillehammer, Norway. Transitioning to coaching and mentoring for the National Development Team, he would guide and influence numerous world-class skiers, including several Olympic gold medalists. He would also cause an earthquake in the sport.
The CSHOF adjudicators had a no-brainer on their hands; just Googling Douglas’s contributions to skiing would have kept them busy for days.
In the mid-1990s, as snowboarding exploded and dominated snow media, Douglas and some of his mogulist charges—JP Auclair, JF Cusson, Vinnie Dorion and Shane Szocs—turned their eyes to the terrain parks driving that explosion. Messing around during time away from training, they innovated ski tricks no one thought possible. But it was clear to the group that their skis—which only slid in one direction—were limiting the fun factor, leaving a “What if…” haze hanging over the Blackcomb Glacier summer-camp scene.
As has now become legend, Douglas and fellow coach Stephen Fearing had the answer: a back-of-the-napkin idea for a high-performance twin-tip ski. It was a hard sell, but eventually the Japanese arm of Salomon produced a trial run of the Teneighty in 1998. The breakthrough boards immediately revolutionized freeskiing, launched the group on a global journey as the New Canadian Air Force (NCAF), and ultimately reshaped the industry. “The first run of 6,000 pairs sold out in two weeks,” recalls Douglas of the ski that became one of the top sellers of all time. “So we knew we were on to something.”
Leading the NCAF into a period of fortune and fame previously unknown in ski circles (I once saw a billboard of their faces five stories high in downtown Tokyo), Douglas quickly earned the nickname “Godfather of New School Skiing.” Though the title would eventually undergo post hoc correction to “Godfather of Freeskiing,” it was perfectly preformulated for a career that, over 38 years, has also seen him serve as co-owner of Momentum Ski Camps, a prominent ski television personality, and a long-running commentator for the Winter X Games.
Though already an elder statesman as the park-and-pipe scene he helped found blew up around him, Douglas was far from done. With the Coast Range as a backdrop, he reinvented himself as a big-mountain skier and perennial video star, banking more than 40 film appearances, 50 magazine covers and a slew of other accolades. Then, before wear-and-tear could ground him, he leapt again—to the other side of the lens with his genre-defining Salomon Freeski TV web series. Douglas’s production company, Switchback Entertainment, was soon also producing award-winning shorts, feature films and a 50th anniversary joint production for Whistler Blackcomb, collectively racking up more than 30 film-festival awards.
There’s a pattern in this seemingly patternless arc: Rather than simply ride any particular wave of fame, Douglas consistently turned his mind to what was next, with a thoughtful approach that not only saw him through personal reinventions, but simultaneously opened up creative and mentorship space for others. And this is key: Whenever Douglas has an idea, everyone around him benefits—and finds themselves at the forefront of something new.
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In a sport of constant transition, where alpine racers move on to ski cross, mogulists become slopestyle competitors, and everyone eventually finds god in the backcountry of exotic locales or climate activism, Douglas has been early (or first) to each crucial nexus, cheering on both peers and aspirants, making his own transitions and staying ahead of the game. To use a hackneyed Canadian analogy: He has always both seen, and skated to, where the puck was going to be.
As a result, few from any sport are more deeply respected or trusted for the focus, care and responsibility they bring to everything—including family life, as the father of two now college-aged kids. Douglas’s dedication to community has also seen him in demand for everything from welcoming the wide-eyed fall crop of newcomers to Whistler to co-founding Protect Our Winters Canada in 2018, on whose board he still sits. Indeed, no one has been honoured with Pique Newsmagazine’s annual “Favourite Whistlerite” title more times than Douglas (the current tally is eight—including 2025), something humility would prevent him from ever mentioning.
“I feel I’m only in the middle of this journey through skiing. That really helps with my decision-making. I pick my days more carefully, I’m not pounding laps from dawn to dusk. I get a lot of enjoyment from just being out there.”
Beyond filmmaking, Douglas keeps busy these days with ski guiding—both on-piste and off—in Whistler, Japan, Europe and South America. In 2025, he took on the role of Director of Skiing for Red Bull’s inaugural Yeti Natural Selection Ski event in the Alaskan backcountry, another success in delivering the hands-down best cinematic capture of big-mountain skiing ever. “I think it’s because the overhead racing drone made it look like a video game,” he says.
Douglas’s résumé of professionalism and leadership is the stuff of any rightful legend, but what makes him most vital is that almost three decades after rising to fame, he remains an advertisement for the opposite: newness, creativity and a sustained enthusiasm often lost in people half his age. “I feel I’m only in the middle of this journey through skiing,” he says. “That really helps with my decision-making. I pick my days more carefully, I’m not pounding laps from dawn to dusk. Some days I just go for a tour by myself and make a few turns. I get a lot of enjoyment from just being out there.”
Ever humble, in his CSHOF acceptance speech Douglas pointed to all the Whistler folks who have lifted him up over the years, insisting that the award belonged to them as well. And what wisdom, in retrospect, might have been distilled from such a complex journey? As is often the case, a return to basics and simplicity. “Live life with purpose, stay true to what you believe, hang onto family and friends,” he says. “And, no matter how desperate things get—take the time to have fun.”
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