Last May, a small but dedicated group of friends and fellow shredders, including Jeremy Seegmiller and I, made the trek up to Mt. Hood. The plan was simple: shred, camp and rage, all while being as dirtball as possible. About two weeks into the adventure, things went terribly awry. A thirty-bomb of Milwaukee’s Beast, a can of white gas, and an unruly campfire later, Seegmiller was in the Portland burn center with second-degree burns covering most of his legs.