Remembering Bryce Newcomb

While Bryce and I both grew up in Ketchum, ID, our paths didn’t really intertwine until he moved to Jackson and started competing in the Freeskiing World Tour.

Freeskiing contests are judged on five different criteria: technique, fluidity, control, style and line choice. In many ways, it’s very analogous to life. Bryce’s life was a life well-lived by any measure, but it’s how he excelled in different facets of his life—some very apparent, others quite hidden—that enabled him to truly connect with so many people, in so many places, over so many different things. Skiing was at the center of Bryce’s life, and I think it’s only fitting to look at Bryce’s life within the context of this freeskiing criteria, where his uniqueness can shine through unobstructed.

Competitors are judged on style and turn quality relating to big mountain freeriding.

I was sitting around recently with some of Bryce’s close friends and we came to the conclusion that we all had two things in common: we unconditionally loved Bryce and, at one time or another, come close to or actually gone to blows with him like siblings who had lost their tempers. Bryce had the endearing ability to make you mad and laugh simultaneously. He could make you love him and piss you off in the same breath. He’d give you the shirt off his back…and then rip the sleeves off it. Any scraps or arguments were short-lived, his heart always shining through above all else.

Constant direction towards a goal. This includes continuity, pace, and smooth transitions between sections of the course.

This is difficult enough with one goal, but Bryce had many. The fact that he completed a Master’s in Economics, while pursuing a professional skiing career and working full-time gives an idea of how seamlessly he could manage so many distinct elements of his life. Unrelenting drive notwithstanding, he put friends first and would be there at the drop of a hat for any one of them.

Competitors must remain in control at all times. Any loss of control will result in a lower score. Skillful recoveries will reduce penalties.

It would be disingenuous to say Bryce never had some bumps in the road along the way. However, judge a man’s character not by the adversity he faces but how he faces adversity. His steadfastness was second to none, and he had the uncanny ability to find strength everywhere, to turn any setback into an opportunity. His love and candor was ever present because of—not in spite of—the obstacles he faced. A smooth trail never made a fine cowboy.

This encompasses the pace, energy and creativity with which a competitor attacks or descends his/her chosen line or route.

I’m pretty sure Bryce knocks it out of the park on this one. Bryce owned two jet skis, lived in a camper for extended periods, had a Master’s in economics, co-owned his own business, regularly rocked a mullet, and skied 100 days a year. He was the only person to ever ski a competition run with two roman candles duct-taped to his helmet, was the first person that many people called when the shit hit the fan, and I’m quite confident that he’s shredded more cheese outside of a kitchen setting than anyone else on earth. I am fairly certain that he could give the most interesting man in the world a run for his money.

Each competitor chooses his/her line or route down the course. High scores are given for choosing difficult routes.

In freeskiing competitions, every other score is tied to your line score. None of this other stuff matters if competitors don’t challenge themselves along the way. Anyone can choose an easy line and excel in these areas. This is what truly made Bryce an enigma: his ability to succeed in all of these dimensions while maintaining a lust for life that would constantly make the rest of us question if we were truly living. Endless stories will be told about his uniqueness, his quirks, his shenanigans, but his true spirit lay in his ability to truly live. To choose go, over stay. To get up early and stay up late. To wonder with unrelenting curiosity what’s around the next bend. To challenge himself each step of the way. It wasn’t about risk-taking, it was about living.

There’s a metaphor I heard somewhere along the way of two people standing in opposing fields that are exactly the same. Each day a man mysteriously appears and gives each of them a brick. The first man, not knowing what he should do with this brick, simply discards it in his field. The second man, equally unsure of what to do with this gift, tactfully places it in his field, spending a couple moments each day contemplating what exactly the brick is for. This goes on for years and years. As the two people’s lives are drawing to a close, their fields are now completely distinct: one man has a field littered with bricks, the other has a cathedral.

If the metaphor is lost on anyone, the bricks represent the days of one’s life. It’s not realistic to spend each day contemplating what should be done with each brick, but rather to make even the smallest effort to take advantage of this gift, to make each brick count. Bryce was well on his way to building his own cathedral, and I’d encourage you to honor him by drawing on his inspiration and lust for life.

When the days come that you get to place those keystones—the stones that bear almost no weight but hold everything in place so the building can stand on its own— I hope that you’ll smile, and think of Bryce.