Photos by Zach Humphreys - @theyounghump
If you’ve ever wondered what happens when a couple hundred snowboarders go into the woods with rails, shovels, beer, music, a megaphone, and absolutely zero interest in rules, schedules, or registration forms look no further than the 2025 Lovezone Community Jam, the third annual event hosted by Boardslide Magazine (formerly Snow Pirates Co.).
What started as a DIY meet-up between homies has turned into one of the rowdiest and most heartfelt community traditions in Colorado snowboarding. And somehow, each year, it feels even more like home.
The old gods and the new blessed the Lovezone again this season. Blue skies overhead, good snow, crisp temps, and light that made every hit sparkle. The setup, buried in a pocket of the woods that feels like a secret you have to earn, was a Frankenstein playground of rails, tubes, logs, hits, and whatever else riders dragged in or built on the fly. Nothing pristine, but yet everything was perfect.
No banners telling anybody what to do. No registration tent. No day passes, bracelets, waivers, or heats.
Just snowboarding. Raw, loud, weird, communal snowboarding.
With 200+ beers, sandwich bags of joints, cash bounties for tricks, and a megaphone that should be retired. The sponsors hauled in a shit ton of gear and merch: boards, softgoods, stickers, wax, gloves, hoodies, jackets, pants, hats, and all sorts of treasures. Local brands set up tents like a mini snowboard bazaar. Crash Snowboards even set up a museum, displaying the full lineage of their shapes, graphics, and progress of hand-made snowboards.
It felt less like an event and more like a community homecoming.
Riders flooded in droves, some locals, some crews from out of state, some seasoned vets, some first-timers. But all hungry to throw down. A few standouts and legends who lit the place up like Aaron Hoffman, Hunter Ventline, Ham, Shane, Tommy, and Joey Lynch, Paige Ryan, Cole Brantner, Maddie Korth, Lusho & the TNP team, SnowVibes Snowboards crew - DJ, Eli, and Zach, and other riders like Mitch Holtz, Zach Corbett, James Holahan, the Bird Boarder, Greyson Morton, Montana Gardner, Kaiden Paulson, and way more riders than a single article could hope to list.
Every drop was a clip. Every rider had a moment.
Boardslide Mag and the other sponsors were handing out cash for trick bounties, pulling crumpled bills from pockets and tossing them at whoever laced something wild. It added hype, sure, but the cash was just an excuse to get loud.
No podium. No medals. No speeches. Just, “Holy shit, that was sick, take ten bucks.”
In a world where snowboarding feels increasingly piped-off, permission-required, and over-regulated, the Lovezone Community Jam is a reminder that this culture began in the margins where nobody asked for permission. You earned respect with your riding, your energy, your style, your willingness to hand a stranger a beer or fix a lip so someone else could have a better shot.
If there was a single sound that defined the day, it was Will Gosh on the megaphone, screaming encouragement, heckling friends, and pouring gas on every session.
“LET’S GO! HIT SOMETHING WEIRD!”
“TREES! FOR! LUNCH!”
“GREYSON MORTON? YOU'LL BE HEARING THAT NAME FOR CENTURIES TO COME.”
He was the heartbeat of the day.
Kids showed up. Old heads showed up. First-time riders showed up. Riders who haven't seen each other in months reunited. New homies were made. Dogs roamed. Music thumped. People grilled. A couple hundred beers vanished. The sun was dropping but no one really wanted to leave. It felt like the opposite of everything corporate snowboarding tries to sell you. It felt real.
The Lovezone Community Jam isn’t about medals. It isn’t about clout. It isn’t about creating the next pro rider or building the “scene.” It’s about showing up and remembering why we fell in love with snowboarding in the first place.
In its third year, the Lovezone Community Jam cemented itself not as an “event,” but as a tradition. A ritual. The annual reminder that snowboarding doesn’t need permission to be great. Just needs people who care.
The sun was shining.
The music was playing.
The beers were cold.
The drops were hot.
The vibes were perfect.
And the people? The people were everything.
