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My trip to Montreal was last-minute. Winter has been fickle on the East Coast this year and snow was spare throughout December. In mid-January, though, temperatures dropped below 0 (Celsius, that is) in the Northeast. Storms started to roll through and snowmaking was turned on. In Montreal, winter was a go, which meant that the second annual Ojo Fest to commemorate the life and legacy of Dillon Ojo, was on for Saturday, January 21st–and snowboarders from all over were headed to Quebec.
I didn’t get into Montreal until after 11pm the night before Ojo Fest. By the time I pulled up to the hotel, I was tired, hungry, and a little confused why the outside door to the hotel was locked. But then Tanner Pendleton, whose vision has shaped Vans’ film canon from Landline. to Together Forever, popped open the door and let me inside. In the lobby, I found more friends: Harry Hagan, Jake Kuzyk, Mike Bogs, Justin Meyer, Spencer Schubert, and Parker Szumowski. It had been four years since I’d been Montreal and right away, the weekend was happily familiar.
First thing on Saturday morning we headed to the Parc Olympique. Kuzyk directed our uber driver where to drop us off (the park is a massive place); a very short walk from the main road and we were standing at the top of Ojo Park where a few dozen people were already hiking up, strapping in, and hanging out.
Ojo Park sits in front of the Montreal Tower, a massive spire leaning at a 45-degree angle. The tower is something of a beacon for snowboarding. All around its enormous building are spots featured in a litany of video parts. Arriving at Ojo Park feels kind of like a pilgrimage to hallowed ground. Snowboarding in a city-sanctioned terrain park in the shadow of the tower feels momentous.
From the moment I arrived at Ojo Park, the energy was electric. First, there was a ton of snow. The crew at Today’s Park had made lots of snow to add to what Mother Nature had supplied and they built out three tiers of features, including a multi-take off jump at the bottom of the park. Every feature, from beginner dancefloor to advanced down-flat-down, was raked with care. At the bottom of the park, friends and industry cohorts gathered around tents from the Dillon Ojo Lifeline Foundation, Vans, and Empire. Adamo was preparing to give out pizza. There was a grom-sized learning area set up with rollers and flags. And the weather was gray but perfect. Cloudy but bright. Cold but a good cold. Very quickly, the park was filled with boarders. It was frenetic energy at its finest. Ojo Park was open.
The last time I had been in Montreal before this trip was years ago. We went to a premiere of Landline. The crowd went wild, twenty-four minutes into the film, when Dillon’s part started playing. The cheers for a hometown rider are always loud, but Montreal premieres reach a higher frequency than in other places; there’s a particular dedication and excitement that is only bred in this cold, eastern province–a particular reverence for snowboarding and the riders who have come up in here. And Dillon, well, his light shone beyond brightly from this infamous proving ground, so the crowd wasn’t just erupting, they were in awe.
Dillon’s snowboarding had that effect on people. It looked effortless in defiance of its complexity. It was emphatic without ever being flashy. It was too good and too rare and was underlined by Dillon’s sincerity, his kindness, and his appreciation for others around him.
I remember thinking how rad it was to be there and see his resonance in his hometown. Because you could see it everywhere else in snowboarding, but this was the heart.
It was uncommon in a way that
Ojo Park was created by the Dillon Ojo Lifeline Foundation and Vans to provide a free, accessible snow park for anyone and everyone to have fun together in winter. The foundation was founded by Dillon’s parents, Elaine Charles and Francis Ojo, to honor Dillon’s memory by sharing his love of sports, art, and positive social impact through providing youth opportunities and access to sport, art, and organized activities. On Vans side, their support of local communities runs deep, the charge led by both their professional team and the brand staff dedicated behind the scenes. The collaborative creation of Ojo Park is not only a community gathering place, a hub for snowboarders and skiers to ride for free all season long, a spot where kids and adults of all ages can first experience snowboarding, but also a global benchmark for creating access to snowsports–a beacon of possibility for our entire snowboarding community. It’s a hill of dreams and the second annual Ojo Fest was proof positive of “if you build it, they will come.”
And they did. The snow park was packed. So many friends had come to town to celebrate Dillon and honor his legacy while welcoming others to join them. Seen Snowboarding held a meet up and Kuzyk, Kennedi and Mikaela Kautzky built the most incredible feature to session, a closet to dance floor that they spray-painted lime green and purple and decorated with Vans shoes and boots (they also brought a disco ball). The closet feature went off first thing during Ojo Fest as the DJ spun vibey disco hits that bounced off the walls of the Olympic buildings. The Seen meet up welcomed folks that had never ridden before and helped acclimate them to being on board. Vans provided boots and more than one first-time-boarder successfully emerged from the closet and onto the dance floor. At one point, as Spencer Shubert, Mike Rav, Kennedi, and a group of Rude Girls decimated the dance floor, I hiked up above to get a better angle and saw Tanner Pendleton standing with an new-to-snowboarding attendee on a gentle area of slope, teaching them how to balance on a board for the first time. How many people get to learn to ride from one of snowboarding’s most talented cinematographers? How many times can fledgling snowboarders drop in next to Cole Navin, Jed Anderson, and Martyn Vachon? It’s a dichotomy that continues to snowball through Dillon’s legacy: leading the way and bringing others in, all at the same time. Together.
By lunchtime, the field was warmed up. Empire, the iconic Montreal shop, ran a contest first on the DFD and then the jump. Jacob Krugmire, Taylor Davies, Gian Sutter, Mike Bogs, Jed, Rav, Phil Jacques, and a host of ripping Quebecois (it is a snowboarding paradise there, after all) destroyed both zones. Kennedi Deck was handing out 5-dollar bills for tricks, giving gas money to rippers that had driven from Quebec City, Ontario, Vermont, and NYC. Cole Navin might have been doing that, too, but I can’t confirm because there was so much happening at once. The scene was a narrowly controlled chaos of the best kind; the floodgates on winter had opened up and Dillon’s 1,000-watt smile was on everyone’s minds. A few hundred people–pros, ams, weekend warriors, rookies, groms, families, fans, and more–were glued to the riding going down in Ojo Park in the center of a massive city where everyone could ride for free. It was truly something special and for sure that feeling resonated through everyone there at the Parc Olympique.
One of the lovely things about snowboarding is how the mere act of standing sideways can make you feel at home no matter how near or far you are from where you live. Whether an unfamiliar mountain, a new city block, or any variety of intimidating terrain or feature, strapping into your snowboard provides a sense of solace. But the location isn’t really the thing, right? It’s the sense of belonging. That walking into a dark hotel lobby at 11pm you are immediately surrounded by friends you’ve known for years. That standing in the snow in a public park you’re introduced to people who you immediately jive with. There’s a shared language, a common understanding, and a way of looking at the world that symbiotic. It’s something special. It’s something magical. But while the rareness of shared understanding is part of what makes it feel so remarkable, inviting others to be a part of things doesn’t dampen the flame–instead, it adds to the blaze. More people means more perspectives, more points of view, more creativity, and more drive. Sharing your sense of belonging only creates more belonging, more excitement, more places you feel at home and more people to feel that way with.
Dillon was a rare individual who forged his own path, but he never did so alone. Anyone who even met him once experienced his enormous smile, his contagious energy, and his care and excitement for those around him. He walked huge in this world and left a big impression not only on snowboarding and its community, but on his city and beyond. Ojo Fest is testament to Dillon and how much he meant to so many people, a number that snowballs every year because of the efforts by his family and friends to carry on his legacy. To bring more and more people in to share the joy of snowboarding and the feeling of truly belonging. At Ojo Park, something so special has been created: a snowboarding oasis in the middle of Montreal where everyone is welcome. All because of Dillon.
As the sun set over the city, Montreal Tower was speckled with golden light. Everyone piled into cars with friends to take off our boots and meet up downtown that night. Over dinner and espresso martinis, we shared stories and celebrated. When it got late, we made our way over to Apt. 200, where Dillon often dj’ed, and toasted late into the night. The back room where we were got increasingly packed as the evening went on. By midnight it was shoulder-to-shoulder and you could barely move, but it was okay because a stream of Coronas was passed by raised arms. Everyone belonged, brought together by Dillon, this year and for the years to come.
Endless thanks to the Charles-Ojo Family, The Dillon Ojo Lifeline Foundation, Giovanni Vacca, Vans and Vans Canada, and everyone who has worked so hard to create Ojo Park, Ojo Fest, and provide a place and a time for snowboarding and celebration of Dillon’s continued legacy. #ojoforever