Down the Drain Mt. Baker Style
By Lee Crane

Well, I say, I wanted to race, but my entry arrived late and I was put on a waiting list (number 42 to be exact) so I couldn't get in. It's not a bad excuse. AZP snowboard shop owner Brian Harper used it. So did Bonfire teamrider Sarah Trounweiser, and TransWorld Snowboarding's Senior Editor Billy Miller. They all said they couldn't race because they arrived too late. Craig Kelly and Grandpa Jeff Fulton, two of Baker's truly legendary riders were in Japan this year and couldn't make it. Rumor has it Craig was "working on his snowmobile" last year. I got the feeling everyone was trying to come up with a reason to not race. After all, Craig probably wants to hang on to the claim that's he's won every Mt. Baker Banked Slalom he's entered.

Kris Jamieson had the second fastest time behind Terje Haak- onsen in run number one. Unfor- tunately, he couldn't hold on in run number two and finished 9th overall.

At least I got on the waiting list. It's just that when I arrived at Mt. Baker's brand new White Salmon Lodge I saw the registration line and right behind it a mountain of untracked powder--excuse number two. Really, who wants to wait around at the top of a race course when miles of powder are just waiting to be exploited. (This excuse was invented by Canadian snowboard pioneer Ken Achenbach, who at one point insisted he was still a pro halfpipe rider even though he never competed. "Hey, it's not my fault there's always great powder during the contests," he'd say.) Exactly my point.

The Mt. Baker Legendary Banked Slalom is a rare thing in the world of sell-out, money grubbing, snowboard contests. In spite of it's world-wide popularity it has remained a soulful event where riders race solely to have fun and compare themselves against others on one day, at one mountain.

In it's ten year history (eleven if you were in race organizer Gwen Howat's class at Seahome High School) the Banked Slalom has come to symbolize the last honest snowboard event in the world. There are no judges. No beer companies co-opting the groove. In fact, all the prizes are donated by snowboard companies or individuals who are stoked by the contest. Tradition of this kind can't be manufactured by MTV. The only way to be a part of the Mt. Baker Banked Slalom tradition is to drop in and charge the evil bastard like a man. Why else would world Terje Haakonsen travel all the way to Glacier, Washington to compete? It's certain not for the prize money. It's just man vs. nature in a snow filled gully.

RACE REGRET

Sitting in the White Salmon Lodge during an award ceremony that seemed to give a prize to nearly everyone who made it to the finish line, regret began inching in on me like rising floodwaters. Not because I saw K2's Luke Edgar walk away with a Gold Duct Tape Trophy, a free board, and a kickin' Mt. Baker Legendary Banked Slalom letterman's jacket for being the fastest of the old men. And not because it would have been one of the few times in my life that I could say I'd competed in an event with the best snowboarder in the world. It had more to do with missing out on being a part of tradition.

The lodge was packed to overflowing with people who had put the money down, challenged the evil serpent to a wrestling match, and kicked ass. I, on the other hand had done nothing. I might as well have been home in a Barcalounger watching the Super Bowl with my hands buried in a bag of Cheetos.

Sure, I hiked the Hemispheres and took off down the ridge to get waist deep first tracks. I toured the mountain with reluctant host Jeff Galbraith, senior editor of Snowboarder magazine and was reminded again why so many people claim Mt. Baker as their favorite resort. But I wasn't part of tradition because I wussed. I cheesed. I flushed tradition down the drain.

But you know what? It won't happen again. Next year when someone asks me if I raced Baker I won't be forced into making up any silly excuses. Next time my answer will be simple. It will be three tiny words. And they will be, "Yeah, I raced."