"YA WANNA BEER?" a woman in a bright-yellow bikini asks me cheerily, pointing to a case of Tecate buried in the snow as I ski up to the halfpipe final on a Saturday afternoon. Egged on by great weather, live music, and strutting athletes, the Squaw Valley fans are giddy. "Take two!" says Bikini Girl.

Fifty percent of the spectators are teenagers hanging on the railings in various stages of undress and whooping it up for their favorite riders. I watch the competitors rocket off the 18-foot walls into silent, graceful arcs above me. Each run unfolds in a predictable blur of twisting midair spins and traverses across the gun-barrel pipe.

A few hours later, I'm in the finishing area. A shirtless Peter Olenick, a 23-year-old competitor from Carbondale, Colorado, adjusts his goggles and asks his friend, "Dude, do I look OK?"

"Yah, bro." Knuckle bump.

No competitor dares attempt Olenick's signature move, the whiskey flip (close to a double-backflip 180), which helped him earn third place today, but he's more concerned about the awards ceremony.

"The champagne stings your eyes," he explains.

A few steps away, Dumont, winner of the day's event, plus $25,000 and a Honda Element for taking the points competition, tells a camera crew that Nelson's tour "has progressed the sport three years ahead of its time" by hosting regular, high-quality competitions that push athletes to innovate.

On my last night in Squaw Valley, Nelson throws a party to celebrate the season's end, taking about 200 employees, racers, supporters, and media up in the tram for a private event at 8,200 feet, where guests are led to an open bar and a generous buffet. After dinner, people dance, schmooze, and play broomball on the ice rink.

Call it work or call it play—Nelson enjoys his own party more than anyone, and the pied piper of snow remains in the thick of it throughout the night, his red mane bobbing in a sea of revelers.