I'm not going to attempt to trace the origin of this phenomenon, and I think it would be pretentious to try and pinpoint an event in history from when all other RCUI followed. It is simply a manifestation of the ruthless spinning of the globe and thus, changing of seasons, and a passionate skier's obliging spiritual connection with the inevitable melt off. On a larger scale, year to year, generation to generation, the hilarity of past trends and fashions are kept alive through costuming, and of course, all of this existential march forward through time is best coped with, shared with friends, and celebrated through substance abuse. Why cheap beer? Another essay altogether, my friends.
Ceremonies and rituals vary amongst ski areas. Alta, Utah's closing day for example, features a raging party atop the iconic run, Alf's High Rustler. The scene includes illegal keg beer and illegal fireworks, both covertly imported from Evanston, Wyoming. Friends pool money, select a driver, accomplice, and car to make the 90 minute drive across the border, risking serious legal reprocussions if the smuggling were to be discovered by any of the dozens of Wyoming and Utah highway patrol peering over I-80 like hungry vultures. All for the party. Descending the steep, icily-moguled slope of High Rustler in the early evening twilight while avoiding a gravity and beer-aided barrage of hard packed snowballs is the classic end to this annual tradition.
At Mt. Baker, Washington, the ski resort with the world record for snowfall in a single season, closing day has a distinct flavor as well. Mt. Baker has traditionally been a very snowboard-centric resort, a basic but enormous difference from the still-skis only Alta. Lacking a distinct peak or run like Alta, the party centers around a band in the base area. And in tribute to the world-famous Mt. Baker Banked Slalom, the party continues into the after-dark hours with the Mt. Baker Banked Sled-om.
At Kirkwood, California, though it wasn't quite closing day, the RCUI trend was in full effect with Long Board Day. A celebration of old technology and style, no skis under 210cm were welcome.
Chamonix, France never closes, but springtime does bring similar activity to the forefront. This year the Boss des Bosses ran for the 20th year, a mogul competition featuring living legend Glen Plake and many of the French and Swiss Alps most alcoholic and talended "seasonaires" competing for glory and memory loss.
In Austria, the Long Board Day bug has caught on also, and small groups of friends take to the hills outdated skis, clothes, and social conventions.
Despite differences, the changing seasons always brings out some of people's deepest shared values. At worst, it is a simple excuse to act a fool and abuse the bottle. But at best, it is a celebration of life and lifestyle, a loving acceptance of our own mortality. When else do so many people mock the passing of time with such energetic happiness, rather than hiding from the invincible reality of the spinning globe? Skiers, with their lives tuned to the seasons, the angle of the sun in the sky, and the phase changes of water, are as well equiped to deal with the passing of time as any, as shown by the closing day rituals taking place around the world.
Long Board Day in Austria. klar photo
Alta's High Rustler. ePiech photo
Kirkwood. Skier666 photo
