Reject - From the Ashes - The Joey Schusler Profile

From The Ashes

The Joey Schusler Profile

Words Scott Secco

Videos Joey Schusler, Craig Grant, and Scott Secco

Photos Dave Trumpore, Joey Schusler, and Craig Grant

Two men walked slowly up the trail; they seemed shrunken, more like apparitions than corporal beings.
‘’Hola, ¿cómo estás?’’ (Hello, how are you?) Schusler called out to them.

The taller man replied with unintelligibly slurred Spanish. He sounded drunk but it could have been a local Peruvian accent. The men walked toward Schusler, stumbling a bit on the rocky terrain. One of the men clutched a clear glass bottle with a dark brown liquid sloshing around inside

‘’¿Beber?’’ (Do you want a drink?) The man thrust the bottle toward Schusler.

‘’No, estoy bien, gracias,’’ (No, I’m good thanks) said Schusler, ‘’tengo que andar en bicicleta.’’ (I’ve got to ride my bike).

‘’Beber’’ (Drink it) The man’s eyes, bloodshot and bleary, narrowed to slits.

‘’No, estoy bien, gracias,’’ said Schusler.

The man reached behind his back and fiddled for a moment before his hand reappeared, clutching a burnished metal object. He pointed the gun at Schusler’s head.

‘’Beber.’’


Joseph ‘Joey’ Schusler is a 23-year-old Coloradoan , a professional mountain bike athlete, a popular filmmaker, and the digital marketing manager for Yeti Cycles in Boulder, Colorado. He stands about six feet tall and his hair is brown and shaggy. He’s built like a soccer player, athletic but not bulky. He speaks with a plethora of superlatives: everything is awesome, or cool, and his sentences are often bookended by laughter. You could safely describe him as ’’stoked’’ in situations involving bikes, skis, or cameras. He is not, however, stoked when being held at gunpoint.

If you were to travel from Vancouver, British Columbia, to Santiago, Chile, via LAN Airlines you would fly approximately 10,550 kilometers with a stop in Los Angeles International Airport, and another at Jorge Chávez International Airport in Lima, Peru, before arriving at Comodoro Arturo Merino Benítez International Airport in Santiago, Chile. En route, you would pass over the Coast Range, the Sierra Nevada, and the Sierra Madres, before setting eyes on the Andes. The Andes stretch nearly 700 kilometers through Argentina, Bolivia, Ecuador, Peru, Venezuela, Colombia, and Chile. The mountain chain provided arable land and easily defensible spaces for the Incan Empire from about 1438 until 1533. Though this great civilization eventually crumbled due to civil war, smallpox, and the work of Spanish Conquistadors, South American national identity remained strong (though Spanish is still the first language for most citizens). And while the Andes hold an incredible diversity of flora, fauna , and mineral wealth, I was not there to conquer land, women, or gold; I was on site to document Joey Schusler and the other members of Smith Optics’ enduro mountain bike team as they raced the Andes Pacifico

Smith Optics paid for its athletes, Joey Schusler, Nate Hills, and Lars Sternberg, plus their team manager, Mallory Burda, and myself, a videographer to fly to Chile for 10 days to film a three-part adventure video series and marketing material for the recently released Smith Forefront mountain bike helmet. Though Smith is headquartered in Sun Valley, Idaho, their marketing team decided that the natural beauty of the Andes would be the perfect setting to show off the merits of the Forefront helmet.

Schusler is a professional mountain bike athlete representing Smith Optics, Yeti Cycles, Shimano, and Camelbak. He provides value to these sponsors by appearing in advertisements and editorials on magazine pages, by riding in online videos, and through his race results. Essentially he’s given free gear and cash to make other riders want to buy the products he uses (you could say he’s a male model of sorts). It’s easy to see why these companies have picked Schusler - he just plain looks good on a bike.

Schusler rides aggressively, with his elbows out wide and arms slightly bent. His knees are bent too, and work in concert with his arms to push through his suspension, as he coaxes every last smidgen of speed out of the trail. Like most pro riders, he steers with his belly button; this means he keeps his bellybutton, and thus his torso and bike, pointed exactly where he wants to go. During a race he rides fast and low, skimming over jumps to carry speed. When he’s riding for a photo or video shoot, his wheels are everywhere: careening between rocks and roots, bouncing down the trail and throwing dirt high behind him in corners - almost like he’s skiing. When he rides, his tongue is almost always pushed out of his mouth, down and to the right in fierce concentration (although he’ll try and contain it, if he’s reminded that it’ll ruin the shot).



Schusler was raised in the shadow of the Flatiron Mountains, in Boulder Colorado, a few miles from Yeti Cycles’ headquarters. His father, George, is an architect, and his mother, Ann, is an interior designer. They were outdoorsy and took Schusler skiing in the winter and cycling in the summer.

‘‘I can’t say we watched a ton of movies growing up, but my house was always pretty artistic. My parents collaborated on some pretty cool projects and maybe that was subconsciously inspiring to my work.’’

Schusler was a standout racer in high school and signed with Yeti Cycles’ downhill race team at age 17. He raced regionally, then nationally, and finally represented Yeti internationally on its factory World Cup race team alongside future two-time World Cup champion Aaron Gwin. Schusler was fast for an American, but found himself unable to crack the top 20 on the pro circuit. On a whim, he bought himself a digital camera and began taking still photographs at races. ‘’I had a collection of my shots from the World Cup season published in Dirt Magazine as a two-page spread, that’s when I began to think I could maybe combine biking with media for a career.’’

Schusler attended the University of Colorado and graduated with a degree in advertising. During his schooling he continued to race and shoot short films in his spare time. His relationship with Yeti led to his first job out of college. ‘’Yeti was good to me as a racer and I felt a close tie to the company since they’re so local to me. They knew me pretty well by this point and they liked my work so they offered me a job in marketing,’’ said Schusler.

‘’He’s helped shape the public’s perception of our company and I think he’s helped us to have a pretty cool image,’’ said Craig Grant, Yeti’s head of marketing. Schusler co-directs all of Yeti’s video content with Grant. Schusler’s videos have been seen at festivals like the 5Point Film Festival, and the Adventure Movie Awards. His personal films have been viewed more than 100,000 times online and his work for Yeti has cracked 1,000,000 views between Pinkbike.com and Vimeo.com. The job lends him the opportunity to plan his own adventures with the stipulation that he produces content for Yeti along the way.


Schusler would be the first to admit that it was not part of the plan to face a loaded Peruvian holding a loaded gun. Schusler’s expedition to the Huayhuash Cordillera in Peru (part of the Andes) saw him accompanied by friends and kindred spirits Sam Seward and Thomas Woodson. Their goal was to gather material for a new short film as they rode from Lima through the Huayhuash and back. They packed light, bringing the bare minimum of camera gear, dried food, and camping essentials. The expedition began on January 3rd, 2014, which is the height of summer in South America; unfortunately the skies would be overcast and rainy for most of the trip. On day four Schusler crashed hard on a slippery piece of granite and hit his head, cracking his helmet. He blacked out for several seconds and was probably concussed. They set up camp and Schusler slept while Seward and Woodson took turns waking him up. 18 hours later and they would be held at gunpoint.

The Andes Pacifico, Schusler’s Chilean objective, is a four-day enduro stage race featuring 5,300 meters of climbing and 11,000 meters of descending over 13 timed stages (the after party was nicknamed ‘’Stage 14’’). Enduro is a racing format, first introduced in 2003 at the Val D’Allos enduro race in Italy.

‘’Enduro is basically just the purest form of mountain bike racing to me,’’ said Schusler, ‘’You ride your bike to the top and then race down, just like what I do with my friends.’’

A typical enduro race (like the Andes Pacifico) features two to five timed downhill sections each day, with stages ranging in length from three minutes to forty minutes and linked by untimed transfer stages. The transfer stages do not count toward your race run unless you’re too leisurely and miss your start time, in which case there is a time penalty. The rider with the fastest combined time after completing all the stages wins the race. There’s a gentleman’s agreement at enduro races that you’re not supposed to ride the course beforehand, and you’re not allowed to cut the course either. Since most courses are long it is difficult to police the entire track. ‘’It’s hard not knowing what’s around the next corner,’’ said Schusler, ‘’but I think it’s also what makes it fun and exciting. It really shows who’s the best bike handler since nearly everyone is racing on equal terms.’’ 2014 marked the first Andes Pacifico: the course would take riders from the high altitude cactus-filled desert of La Parva, through lush forests, to end on the beach in Valparaiso.

The Bus: A Story of Friends and Fun from Joey Schusler on Vimeo.

I found myself in the unique position of documentarian, and participant. I was expected to ride the entire Andes Pacifico racecourse with my camera gear (which I have never weighed due too fear it will make it more difficult to carry). Coming from the depths of a mild Vancouver Island winter, the heat and altitude conspired to shake my concentration. I crashed hard on the first stage of the first day of racing and it rattled my confidence for the whole trip.

On February 9, 2014, Schusler landed in Santiago Chile for his second South American adventure in the past six weeks. I met him at Mountain Bike Lab, a bike shop in Santiago where he assembled his Yeti SB-66c race bike . Schusler had a fresh scar on his right cheekbone, just below his eye. ‘’I seem to just attract sketchy situations. I can’t say I really mind though, I think it makes the adventures more fun. I can be boring when my knees are wrecked.’’

Schusler is flippant when speaking about his personal safety, but it’s an unassuming confidence, rather than pure braggadocio. To watch him off the bike, observers might find themselves questioning his athletic bona fides. He moves through the world with lanky strides and a relaxed demeanour; there’s no air of raw power like that exuded by NFL players capable of bench-pressing small cars. Schusler appears reasonably fit, but it is not until he swings a leg over his bike that a subtle grace emerges. Just as a penguin struggles on land whilst holding mastery over the sea, Schusler doesn’t look truly at home unless he’s charging down a trail on his bike. His riding is a stream of consciousness attack-react-readjust-jump-turn-drop-bing-bang-boom form of physical poetry; he can balance the inputs from what his bike is currently doing, while planning how to ride the next section of trail as it hurtles toward him. This is done without thought; the knowledge is merely a part of him now, unconscious and completely natural, ingrained through practice and a passion for the sport.

The Andes Pacifico began at La Parva, a legendary ski hill in winter; it hosts lift accessed mountain biking during the summer months. 78 racers lined up in order from slowest to fastest. Weaker riders went first and one-minute intervals were used to space out the pack. The locals called the dirt ‘anti-grip.’ There was nothing lost in translation, the dirt was dry and loose on top of the trail and certain corners felt like riding on ice. ’Anti-grip’ claimed many riders (myself included) and Schusler placed 8th with two crashes on day one. He moved into 6th overall after two days of racing (and one more crash). Schusler spent the evenings tuning his bike and relaxing over a couple cervezas with his competitors.

The Bus: A Journey Up North from Joey Schusler on Vimeo.

‘’Everyone here is competitive, but at the same time there’s still a sense of community between the riders. Even Jerome [Clementz, the eventual race winner] will drink some wine and sit around the camp fire for a bit.’’

The third stage of the Andes Pacifico began high on a peak outside the urban sprawl of Santiago. There was an inversion in the valley and a thick layer of clouds covered the forest below. From the start gate it looked as if the trail simply dissipated into nothingness. The starter leaned over and began counting down.

‘’15 segundos… 14… 13… COMENZAR!’’

Schusler pressed the timing chip on his wrist against the electronic timing pole, then pushed down hard on his pedals, ripping into the Andes and down the first straightaway. The course passed under pedal as he snaked his way over the curry powder-esque ‘anti-grip’ soil. There were no spectators and Scushler’s head emptied of everything except for the whirr of his tires cutting into the soil and the occasional clack from his rear derailleur. These too eventually faded until all that mattered was the trail in front of him.

‘’PHWHUMP.’’ Schusler felt his right leg hit something just below his kneepad, but it seemed trivial, a minor nuisance. He continued down the trail until he felt blood trickling down into his shoe. He pulled off to the side of the trail and surveyed the damage.

‘’Oh, I hit my leg really hard!’’ yelled Schusler, blood oozing out of the hole in his shin. ‘’Ayuda! Help! It really hurts! Oooooohhhh’’ He half-sobbed, laying on his back just off the racetrack. Despite the pain, he had the foresight to pull his GoPro helmet camera out of his backpack and film himself losing blood. I was shooting at the finish line and missed the entire incident.

‘’Ayuda! Help!’’

Mallory Burda, the trip manager, was spectating on a nearby section of the racecourse; bushes obscured her sightline but she heard Schusler's cry. She came running up the trail, pulled off her shirt, and tied it around his leg to try and stop the bleeding. The last few racers whizzed by Burda and Schusler as she elevated his leg to reduce blood flow. Matthias Del Solar, the race organizer, followed the final pros at a leisurely pace, he was the course sweeper, assigned to see if anyone had gone off track or crashed. He carried Schusler to the trailhead where they put him in an ambulance to the hospital.

‘’I felt it when I hit the stump but I didn’t think it was that bad, I’ve crashed on race runs before and normally you can kind of push through the pain.’’

Schusler’s shin was struck just below the bottom of his kneepad and the hole gouged straight down to the bone – there was pink muscle visible, contrasting the ivory pallor of the surface of his tibia. It took 30 stitches, internal and external, to repair the injury. Schusler kept his GoPro recording from the time of his accident until he arrived back at camp. His need to document a story outweighed his need for self-preservation.


The Huayhuash Cordillera of Peru is not a tourist destination. Schusler, Seward, and Woodson were utterly alone except for the gunman and his accomplice.

‘’Beber.’’ (Drink).

The man offered the bottle to Woodson. Schusler reached down imperceptibly - he hoped - and pressed the record button on his GoPro camera, which was mounted upside down on the helmet hanging from his handlebar. He angled the lens up toward their assailants’ faces but there was no way of checking if the camera was capturing the standoff.

Schusler’s injury, early on day three of the race, took him out of contention for the Andes Pacifico title and he received a DNF (Did Not Finish) placing for the race. Three days later he was back riding at full strength, albeit with a bandage wrapped tightly around his leg, and another scar to add to his collection.

‘’Sure it hurt to crash like that but at the end of the day it’s part of the sport. I knew the footage would really help with the story too. I don’t ever want to miss the shot.’’


The lifespan of a professional athlete is a short one, regardless of sport. There will always be someone bigger, stronger, or faster, and the human body will eventually succumb to the inevitability of aging – Schusler knows this. But he also has the rare talent of balancing the life of the mind and of the body, part nerd, and part jock. To succeed at the highest level of action sport filmmaking you need to be a participant in the action. Schusler is an expert filmmaker partly because he’s an expert rider, he understands what it feels like to ride and his footage translates that energy to the viewer. Schusler is passionate about cycling, film, and adventure. His love for these things is inseparable from his personality, nay; it formed his character over the past 23 years.

‘’Every time I travel, I realize how big the world is and how much more I need to experience with my camera and my bike. You’ll have way better stories from a rainy night camping than you will from sleeping in a hotel.’’

Huayhuash from Joey Schusler on Vimeo.

‘’Beber.’’ (Drink).

The barrel of the gun stared unblinkingly at Schusler. He reached out and took the bottle from the gunman’s hand. He lifted the bottle to his lips, closed his eyes, and took a swig. Liquor burned his throat; he grimaced. The gunman and his accomplice laughed uproariously. The accomplice pulled out a small camera and began taking pictures of Schusler and his two travel partners, Sam Seward and Thomas Woodson. The gunman struck menacing poses while his accomplice clicked away with his camera. Suddenly, the gunman narrowed his gaze at Schusler and pointed the gun at his head. He pulled the trigger.

Click. BOOM.

The bullet rocketed over Schusler’s head, 1,000 meters per second into the endless maw of the Andes. The gunman laughed again and then turned and walked away, his accomplice followed him and their laughter slowly faded away. The moment was recorded on Schusler’s GoPro and will be used in an upcoming video about his trip to Peru.

Scientists have calculated that the bicycle is the most efficient mode of human powered transportation. I would contend that video may be the most efficient form of storytelling, both rely on a certain circular inertia to propel you from beginning to end: of the adventure, the trail, or the story. Making a living as a filmmaker or athlete in the action sport industry is not a career path for those seeking a corner office and generous severance package. The business is changing however, and with options like monetizing your Youtube channel or selling films on iTunes, there are more ways than ever to promote your work and profit. ‘’Sometimes I worry about what I’ll do when I’m 50. It can get pretty miserable when it’s cold and raining and I still need to get more footage. But I mean, even when I’m tired, and out of food, covered in blood, and the mosquitoes are just swarming; even with all that, there’s still no place I’d rather be.’’ For Schusler, self-actualization requires self-sacrifice; there is no better form of compensation than the satisfaction that comes from testing oneself and capturing moments of beauty in the great outdoors.

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Words: Scott Secco
Videos: Joey Schusler, Craig Grant, and Scott Secco
Photos: Dave Trumpore and Craig Grant

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