Most ski town inhabitants realize last call is just a threat. Chairs stacking all around you, locals getting lippy, that whole, "You don't have to go home, but can't stay here" kinda thing? Thing is, you know that self-service is a few short paces away, and that it could lead you somewhere uncharted, maybe even somewhere closer to home.
See, that's the beauty of snowboarding ... yes, snowboarding. And with 10 feet of snow remaining under foot, Baker made their last call on April 26. Traditionally, this would be enough to make a girl hide in a Peekaru with her dog and enough fried dough to phone it in until fall, but not this time. Not today.
Joya Iverson
Bi-curious day at Baker means riding something you're not accustomed to. Lunch tray schuss-bomb.
This particular closing day showcased typical shenanigans, but contrary to the standard-issue 60-plus-degree spring days experienced in most western states, 50-degree April days in the Cascades are occasions fit for disrobing. Slush, sunshine aplenty, dudes in neon one-pieces with chests bared, chicks in capes with chests bared, hippies strumming bass in paisley with chests bared and dogs sporting backpacks with chests bared filled time slots between the occasional run and après and barbeque sessions. Good times didn't necessarily take place on a snowboard or set of skis, but noboards, lunch trays and telemark monoskis also found a place in Baker's heart on Sunday.
Despite the fact that Baker and Bloody Marys for breakfast don't jive, I stayed. And so did the dude in the chicken suit as well as the guy going as Winnie the Pooh. But they, too, must have found out there was birthday cake on-site, courtesy of everyone's new best friend, Gus, who turned four on closing day.
Fenta
All aboard the snowshoe train from here on out.
No one goes to closing day to ride snowboards—not when the coming days bring more slush, warmer temps, freshly groomed greens, dried concrete surfaces, propane-powered animal cookers and most importantly, a winter that never actually ends. Luckily, not only have we propagated our freedom and McNuggets on a global scale, but we've also spread snowboarding to places that our sun frowns upon during the summer months. It's always snowing somewhere.
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Contributors
Tracy Anderson
Drinks coffee. Writes about snowboarding. Enjoys a strong snus. Appreciates a good back lip.
Mary Fenton
Would rather be riding pow, sucking at skateboarding or thinking up new names for her deaf dog and fake band.
Colin Whyte
Below the Fold. Beyond the Pale. Between the Lines. Beneath the Rose. He's a Secret Society of One.
Jesse Huffman
Loves a cold a.m. shred and late day skate. Thinks green is the new black, but should really be the new normal.
Brad Farmer
Grows seasonal crops. Where there's powder and shred news, a Farmer will follow.
Blair Habenicht
A Northwest-grown snow slider with a tendency to blow off any obligations if the snow is falling.
Nate Deschenes
Blessed with the attention span of a gnat. Prefers a #2 Ticonderoga and Trapper Keeper to a MacBook.
Tim Brodhagen
Tim Brodhagen shreds the ice coast on the reg, speaks Portuguese and almost never eats breakfast.
Melissa Larsen
Melissa Larsen likes slashing, sleeping, and talking smack. Not necessarily in that order.
