Fanaticism has been a feature of the “ski town” since the first lifts started spinning. Youthful groups of adrenalized outdoor enthusiasts congregated in rag-tag mountain communities across the United States. Imbued with an enthusiastic spirit for fun and adventure, they’d come without care for where they’d sleep or what they’d eat, so long as the majority of time was spent with skis on their feet. A voyeuristic obsession with this new group of non-conformists gripped the imagination of society and in short order an icon was born: The Ski Bum. Those were the heydays of soul-soaked ski slopes in America, characterized by a camaraderie that continued bell to bell and culminated in joyous revelation by roaring aprés fires. 

In 2024 the reality of this vision can seem to be fading at times. Decades of profit driven wheelin’ and dealin’ have squeezed many of the coolest characters from former ski-bum strongholds. Standing in the typical 2024 lift queue can have you squinting to discern the daily diehards, but they are there. While the pressure to make ends meet in a modern mountain town causes some to flee, in others it catalyzes and concentrates their fanaticism. Consider if you will, the case of Robert “Buddha” Baker.

His tale seems stripped straight from the pages of ski bum folklore, implementing all the traditional themes that define the culture. But that doesn’t make his story cliché; rather, it reads like a classic. Raised a farm boy in California, the seeds of his addiction were sown at the age of 12, when visits to a family cabin delivered his first taste of sliding down slopes. Ensuing summer daydreams of weekend ski trips would keep him cool while trying to keep the family tractor on course. Growing up on a farm instills a love for freedom and nature, but it comes at the price of sharp schedules that don’t bend to the adventurous whims of a youthful imagination. So, when those magical days would finally arrive, he’d let loose. 

Dropped off by his grandmother for unsupervised exploration at the little ski area of China Peak in central California, the powder daydream seeds inside his soul sprang to life. And like in so many kids before and since, those handful of freedom-filled days fertilized a future fascination with the physical and mental realms that snow-coated trails could lead to.

The gateway to real obsession opened for Buddha in the tiny town of Alta, Wyoming, home to the rootsy lil’ ski area of Grand Targhee. With a hankering for Rocky Mountain pow, he took a job bumping chairs to score ski privileges and proximity to the product. After a few years of sniffing around the Teton West-slope scene, Buddha decided to bounce to the other side, opting for the expanded vertical options at the Jackson Hole Mountain Resort.

With the undeniably powerful combination of several years ski bumming under his belt and the inspirational jolt from fresh terrain, Buddha took to his new environment instantly. It was the early 90’s. Teton Village, home to the Aerial Tramway, was still home to little else. Long-gone watering holes hosted the aprés antics of the notorious Jackson Hole Air Force, a pseudo-selective rat pack of local “in the know” ski freaks. Simultaneously secretive of stashes hidden away and overtly gregarious with good times, the JHAF ran amok across the flanks of the Rendezvous Mountain Massif, sweeping Buddha up in their communal camaraderie and stoke. One part alpine outlaw biker gang and one part big air merry-pranksters, joining up with the Air Force meant one thing: Buddha was here to stay.

Compulsion takes many forms in skiing and each individual finds freedom in their own unfolding story. Buddha’s ongoing tale of mountain mania was influenced by a childhood spent outside and through decades of top to bottom, hard-charging ski laps. The result is a man possessed of a unique set of qualities. A true love of the outdoors sends him skiing every day, from the first Tram to the last. High-octane ski partners through the years have helped him develop an economy of motion that belies his ever-increasing kinetic energy. Slip in behind him on a groomer and watch him pull away below the horizon. Chase him down a Hoback lap and you’ll be scratching your head, thinking “Is that him way down there?”

When legends form, the lines of reality get blurred. Tram tales swirl of the man skiing so much he puts holes in his feet, or of mad scientist-like implementation of muscle shock therapy between runs for superior recovery. It gets easy to forget the real-world dedication needed to spur such folklore, until something puts it into fresh perspective.

The reality is, Buddha’s personal blend of attributes and his infectiously positive attitude have turned him into an alpine perpetual-motion machine, racking up vertical mileage like no one else in Jackson Hole. Local folklore long held that Buddha skied a ludicrous amount, but with the advent of ski tracking apps that provide a bevy of on-slope data it’s now possible to fully appreciate his commitment to the craft. Last season alone Buddha racked up nearly 1,200 tram rides over the course of the 125-day ski season, on his way to accumulating an astounding 4.8 million vertical feet skied. Let's look at that number from a different standpoint. In the pre-digital era, Jackson Hole would encourage frequent visitors to keep track of their lift rides with paper and pad, gifting skiers who tallied a million vertical feet over the course of their lifetime with a commemorative belt buckle. A true fall-line fanatic, Buddha is ripping through nearly 5 belt buckles worth of vertical not in a lifetime, but every single season! 

When I ask how he stays motivated to get after it each day, I half expect some acknowledgement of chasing down digits and maximizing Tram lap stats. But instead, Buddha momentarily pauses and in iconic ski bum fashion answers with a sense of egoless self-wonder, falling back on the core values of fun and friendship. “I don’t know, man. I just love it. I mean, it’s like mountain therapy. You don’t have to come out with anybody and you end up skiing with everybody.”

So, if you ever visit Jackson, look for a bearded blur blazing by as you stop to take in the scene. You’ll know it's Buddha by the effortless acceleration and deft control of gravitation. Try and follow if you want a leg burner, but he’ll probably just dust ya. Down at the Tram station is where you’ll find him. Out on the dock there’s a gleam in his eye, but he’s not lost in hallucination. Don't be shy. Throw him a knowing grin or a solid high five, because he’s just another lifelong fanatic under the effects of powder snow intoxication.