Rites of passage.

The Bike Doctor on a Sunday morning.

Easter Sunday at the Bowl.

April showers.

Egg hunting at the University of Montana.

Looking at trash left behind by homeless people. (Or as they are now called, ‘people experiencing homelessness’.)

My poor, poor skis.

Lots of time spent on this trail, in these boots.

East St. Mary on a break in the storm.

I never had much regard for the Kenda tires which came stock on the Chariot, probably because the name makes them sound like cheap Chinese shit, but they actually performed admirably – up until last week, when they were finally replaced by tires with an even worse sounding Chinese name (‘Cheng Shin’, anyone?).

The south couloir of Gray Wolf.

The top is steep. I scraped in and side-slipped down, thinking after a few yards I could turn. But I never felt like I could get my ski around, and a fair bit of sluff was following me, so I ended up side-slipping the top 200 feet. At least I may have smoothed it out for the next guy.

An airy perch.