By SNOWBOARDER Editor Pat Bridges
I first met Kip in the late 90s while he was in college at Plymouth State. He lived with some of our friends at a house that was a regular stop whenever us Vermonters went to New Hampshire to raise hell. I remember doing a contest at Waterville when one of my buddies pointed and told me to keep an eye on Kip at the top of the slopestyle. Sure enough as I squinted I saw a streaking skier barreling towards the biggest booter in the park. Kip sent a big ol’ backie in the buff and literally ass checked leaving a skid mark that was some sort of bodily fluid. Classic. Then two weeks later at Loon the Bud Light Big Air Tour was on tap and just like clockwork I got the heads up. Streaking Kip was striking again. As everyone was freaking out at what was seemingly just another skier sticking a big ol’ backie in his birthday suit my buddies and I were bowled over laughing about how his ass was still bruised and ice burned from his previous attempt at poaching.
A year or two later Kip moved out to Tahoe and we lost touch but I still received regular updates of his exploits. Most were tales of how he would be guiding film crews and then as they were sacking up or window shopping he would pass the time by freeskiing an adjacent line which was way gnarlier than the one being shot.
Can’t say as I knew Kip well, but I am lucky to have even known him at all.