If irony can be expressed through skiing, then Jake Wensvoort is killing it. High above the valley bottom fog, the sun shines bright at Baldy Mountain. Nobody seems to be in a hurry to get after the 10cm of overnight fresh; there appears to be plenty to go around. Wensvoort is hard to miss. A mane of silky brown hair, fit for an ’80s metal band, cascades from his tuque to lower back. He wiggles tiny, slow-speed turns in the powder at the edge of Rock Star, planks locked together monoski-style. A half hour later, Wensvoort is spotted executing consecutive 360s on some corduroy, broken up by prolonged sessions of sliding sideways. His Ukrainian girlfriend Luba, new to alpine skiing, follows closely behind and mimics this most unusual method for…