Meet the man behind the lens and lines. Northern Michigan skier Mike King talks about self-discovery, chasing snow and his film “Lake Effect.”
This article first appeared in Traverse Northern Michigan. Find this story and more when you explore our magazine library. Want Traverse delivered to your door or inbox monthly? View our print subscription and digital subscription options.
Photo by Ella Skrocki
Last year, professional freestyle skier Mike King had fans lining up for sold-out pop-up screenings of his new film “Lake Effect,” a story about how, after years of shredding the world’s most amazing mountains, he rediscovered his love for Michigan’s thriving ski culture and the epic adventures that can be found right in his own backyard. Though King isn’t (yet) a household name, skiers who know their stuff are well aware of his background: the kid who grew up on a cherry orchard in Northern Michigan. But as Mike enters his 30s, how do the high-flying adventures of his youth square with the reality of growing older?
Photo by Ella Skrocki
Peaks and Pits: Life Between Slopes and Orchards
TRAVERSE: What lessons did life on a cherry farm teach you that you apply to skiing?
KING: The need to be self-sufficient and to do the best you can. First, there’s all the equipment and knowing how to fix it. Vehicles. Snowmobiles. Even filmmaking gear. In the backcountry—like the farm—if you don’t know how to do something, you have to figure it out and get it done because you’ll be shut down until you do. But the biggest correlation is the dependency on the environment and adapting to whatever the weather is doing. With both farming and skiing, you start out with this picture in your head about how you hope things are going to happen. You have an idea of the perfect crop, or, in skiing, the perfect trick, and then there’s this sudden event—maybe it’s rain that hurts the crop, or weather that kills the snow, and you have to quickly make the best of what you have.
T: How do you transition mentally and physically from the lifestyle and slopes of the West to living in Central Lake, Michigan?
K: When I first started, and then through college in Colorado, all I could think about was skiing and being on the mountain. I treated myself like an athlete and was in the gym a lot. By the time any snow was falling, I was ready and so hungry to get after it that the transition was no problem. Now, and I’m being completely transparent, I’ve been diving more into the filmmaking process than I am being an athlete.
T: Unlike the waiting game of cherry farming, skiing in nature can involve immediate, high-stakes decisions. How do you navigate the inherent risks of extreme skiing, especially when one wrong move can have severe consequences?
K: In the mountains, we try to be as calculating as possible and limit risk. But avalanches are always a risk. Head injuries—I’ve had a lot of them. But that’s just the type of environment it is, so you have to be willing to take those risks.
T: As time passes and you gain more experience, do you find your risk threshold in skiing changing?
K: I’ve been caught in avalanches and people had to dig me out. And then there are the concussions, which definitely make you think about the future since, with brain injuries, you really don’t have any idea how serious it is. [Extreme skier] Dave Mirra committed suicide. He had CTE [Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy]. His wife said in interviews that within one year he turned from this happy-go-lucky person into being in a lot of pain, physically, and he ended his life because of it.
Photo by Beth Price
Photo by Beth Price
Rolling Reels and Roads: Chronicles of a Wanderer
T: Tell us about the most unexpected challenge you faced while adapting to chasing snowstorms and living in a cargo trailer.
K: Definitely how much time I spent on my own. I went from really enjoying being in a ski house packed with friends living in every corner, sleeping in closets, to being alone with my own thoughts. That was a challenge that had a profound effect on me. But now I love it. I’m still a people person, but I really like being alone, especially in writing and filmmaking where I can be more productive.
T: How has living in a mobile setting influenced your perspective on life and your skiing adventures?
K: I went from living and traveling in a truck camper to a modified cargo trailer to, now, living in a van. I call it my ‘evolutionary ski bum phase.’ Skiing in Colorado, Canada and the Pacific Northwest where rent’s as high or higher than in Traverse City, it’s allowed me to always be where the snow’s falling on a shoestring budget. But sometimes it was rough.
Driving around ’til midnight looking for a campsite after a long day of skiing. Wet clothes freezing solid in the middle of the night. Thawing toothpaste under your armpit. Trucks and snowmobiles—things were always breaking down and needing to be fixed. The experience showed me that if you’re willing to suffer in a way others aren’t and learn how to use your hands, you can be in those places and do things you might not be able to financially do otherwise.
T: As a filmmaker, are there particular stories or themes you’re hoping to explore in your upcoming projects?
K: The trajectory of everything is constantly changing. Like right now, I’m 30 and more focused on trying to get funding for projects at a time when companies in the industry are spending less. With Instagram and all these other things, athlete budgets have been coming down. Companies can now show their products with an iPhone instead of film. So everything is harder, and again I’m always trying to figure out how to do more with less.
Photo by Beth Price
On Chasing Snow and Self-Discovery
T: There’s a scene in “Lake Effect” where you clearly had some kind of accident that got you thinking about the implications of getting hurt. What happened, and what kind of perspective did the incident give you?
K: It was a pretty small fall in the grand scheme of things. But I gave myself a concussion, and it had a major effect on me. I didn’t know where I was or how I got there. It was a really depressing moment where, for weeks afterward, I started questioning what I was doing. When I was 24 and chasing a dream, it was different. Now that I’ve been to funerals of friends where I see their wives and their kids—I realize more deeply the gravity of the things that I’m doing and how my decisions impact the people around me. We tried to tell that as authentically as possible without turning it into a film about brain injuries.
T: Every athlete faces the eventual reality of experience and time affecting their capabilities. How are you seeing your relationship with skiing evolving as the years go by?
K: In the beginning, it was me versus me, always asking how I could ski to the best of my ability. And it was really fun because it pushed me. But sometimes going to these faraway places with all the cameras—all to film myself and my friends so we could watch it? It doesn’t escape me how ridiculous that might seem. I love having that kind of risk in my life, but not the life-or-death kind. Not like some people I would ski with who felt that they were put on Earth to be a skier. And you saw the risks they were willing to take and the mindset that if they were to die skiing, that was the prophecy. I have had moments where I wondered: How am I supposed to compete with someone who’s really willing to put it out there when I’m not? And so that’s actually led to a transition—realizing that I’m not willing to do that, and there are obviously some people out there who are and want it more.
T: Every skier has a unique relationship with the mountain. How would you describe yours?
K: The mountains have been a great teacher to me. When you’re in mountains, you’re in these huge spaces and you’re just a speck. You get this overwhelming sense that if anything bad were to happen, nothing would change. The mountain is unfazed. I started sailing and get that same feeling now, especially on the Great Lakes. There’s all this amazing beauty and power around us. And we are so small and insignificant. And when you’re out there in the middle of it, you need to do everything right—or at least not do the one wrong thing—to be able to come home. It’s always a humbling experience that makes me feel very good.
Photo by Spencer Milbocker
T: Let’s stay with that a second. Has being around the Great Lakes made you feel as at home as you do in the mountains?
K: The more time I spend in Michigan, the more I’m blown away by the feeling I have about the water—that feeling that it’s not all about me. Things just don’t matter when you’re in the wilderness, especially when it’s really powerful. A couple of weeks ago, for instance, I sailed with some friends out to the Manitou Islands. We brought all of our surf gear and intended to anchor in the harbor and surf. We got all the way out there. But the winds were blowing forty-five miles an hour, there wasn’t a single soul around, and I started thinking: What if something happened? Being on the Great Lakes in a sailboat is an absolutely eye-opening experience about the power of nature. So, as it happened, we decided the best thing to do was turn around and head home. There was another big north wind coming, and we probably would have been fine. But it felt like we were pushing it. It reminded me a lot of making decisions in the mountains.
T: As you continue to journey and grow, what kind of impact or legacy do you hope to have, both in the skiing community and beyond?
K: It feels selfish to say, but right now I’m just really focusing on the process of filmmaking, hoping that it will have an impact on someone. I can’t control how people are going to react to my work. Like with “Lake Effect,” one part of the story is about me rediscovering the Michigan ski culture and community that we have right here. But another major message is that you don’t need to have tens of thousands of dollars to make a ski video. If you have a cell phone or a camera, you can do anything here. At the early screenings for “Lake Effect” last year, we heard from a lot of kids who were inspired by that and came to events with videos they had made around here.
T: Can you share anything about your next film or where you’re headed next?
K: The next project is definitely going to involve water, that’s for sure. Being so laser-focused on getting to the mountains and skiing, there are so many things out there I haven’t experienced. So maybe surfing. Or sailing. I don’t know what the story is yet, only that the water is where my interests are right now. I’m just this vessel of being able to tell stories, so the goal is to keep it moving, keep pushing myself and making more films. And it feels like, here, we’re in a good spot and I’m one hundred percent where I want to be.
Photo by Beth Price
A passionate sportsman and explorer, Bob Butz is the author of numerous books, including Beast of Never, Cat of God: The Search for the Eastern Puma and has written articles for The New York Times, Outdoor Life, Field and Stream and National Wildlife.