At the Edge of Midnight
New Year’s Eve has a way of slowing things down..
It’s the one night of the year where you’re allowed to look back without rushing ahead. Where reflection matters as much as anticipation. And as the calendar turns again, Mountain Sledder finds itself standing at that same edge of midnight, looking not just at the year behind us, but at the thirteen that brought us here.
Founded in 2012, Mountain Sledder was born in Golden, British Columbia which sits at the intersection of serious terrain, unpredictable conditions, and riders who know the difference between access and ability. From the beginning, this magazine existed to do more than document riding.
It was built to capture the culture, the people, and the progression of mountain snowmobiling as it evolved in real time.
Originally distributed freely in mountain communities: at dealers, hotels, and gathering places where riders actually were – Mountain Sledder was built for accessibility, not exclusivity. It was never about gatekeeping the sport, but about amplifying it. Thirteen years later, that mission hasn’t changed.
The Years That Shaped Us
Over the last decade plus, Mountain Sledder has witnessed the sport grow from raw experimentation to calculated precision. We’ve seen machines evolve, terrain pushed further, and riders redefine what’s possible in the mountains.
We’ve also seen media change. Faster, louder, shorter.
In 2024, Mountain Sledder stepped away from print. Not because print no longer mattered, but because it mattered too much to rush. Known for its photography, clean design, and editorial depth, print was always treated as something permanent – something meant to be kept, not consumed. That pause wasn’t an ending. It was space to protect the kind of storytelling that doesn’t expire when the feed refreshes.
A Reminder of What Matters
This December, the Full Support Film Festival felt like a return to center.
It reminded us, and the community, that there is still room for stories told slowly. For films that are planned, shot with intention, edited with care, and shared in a room full of people instead of a comment section.
It also reaffirmed something Mountain Sledder has always believed:
there is a difference between documenting the sport and consuming it.
Filmmakers and cinematographers, those who commit to telling complete stories, shape legacy. Mountain Sledder will always stand with the creators who treat this culture with that level of respect.
Turning the Page, Not the Roots
In October, Mountain Sledder entered a new chapter with Tim Grey – filmer, creator, and long-time contributor to snowmobile media, stepping in as owner.
While ownership is new, the roots remain unchanged.
Golden, BC is still home. The mountains, the community, and the values that built this magazine remain intact. This transition wasn’t about changing direction, it was about protecting the platform by placing it in the hands of someone who understands both the responsibility and the culture behind it.
Why Print Still Matters
As midnight approaches, one goal is clear: print will return.
Because print is where legacy lives.
Print is deliberate. Permanent. It’s the difference between something you scroll past and something you keep. With print comes the opportunity to preserve the stories that shaped mountain sledding – the riders, the filmmakers, the moments that deserve more than a timestamp.
Mountain Sledder has always balanced progression with responsibility – spotlighting not just performance, but education, awareness, and respect for the mountains we ride. That balance will continue to define what comes next.
Mountain Sledder has never been about keeping up. It’s been about staying true. Woven into this sport as deeply as any OEM or aftermarket brand. We ride the same terrain, test the same equipment, and stand in the same parking lots. The difference is – we tell the stories that connect it all.
If you’re looking for where to ride, what matters, who’s pushing the sport forward, and why it all feels the way it does – Mountain Sledder has always been part of that conversation.
Looking Toward 2026
As the year turns and the next chapter begins, we plan to move forward with intention.
Fewer distractions. More meaning. Storytelling that honors the culture instead of chasing attention.
So as the clock strikes midnight, we’re not rushing ahead – we’re setting our line.
Stay with us.
Ride with us.
See where this next year takes us.
Because Mountain Sledder isn’t just reflecting on the past.
