From far enough away, everything sounds like the ocean.

A chilly evening in the Big Hole -- a consolation prize after being mudded out of our cabin in the Snowcrest Mountains.

A "ghost house" on the way to Moose Meadows. No moose, no ghosts.

Epic landscapes in the Cabinets. What a great and underappreciated range of mountains.

We drove to Portland, where a car was waiting for us.

A last-minute trip to the coast. It brings back a lot of memories from my trips there as a kid. I wonder what Cooper will remember. (Click on this photo to open it.)

Incredible secret beach.

Trail leading to another.

Old growth forest -- where I learned that "old growth" just means it hasn't been cut in 200 years. That's lame.

Killing it on the Great Divide.

Killing it in the Prius.

Killing it in the Extreme Buick.

Just your basic average every day Labor Day Weekend snowstorm.

Branham Lakes.

Tobacco Roots.

Dedicated wine glasses are for glampers.

The Hour of Magical Light along the Madison.

Took a two-day 150-mile mountain bike ride from Elk Lakes Provincial Park to Banff and back. It's not a super-tough endeavor, but there's one caveat: the six-mile stretch of trail between Elk Lakes and Kananaskis Country Provincial Park circumvents a 200-mile drive, meaning if something goes wrong, you can't just stick out your thumb and get a lift home.

Pretty country, though.

Somehow I got my mileage count off and the first day was 20 miles longer than I had planned. I would have stopped and camped at Spray Lake (the camp host flagged me down, actually, and offered moose sausage) but I had already spent a considerable sum to reserve a spot in Banff. Banff, as expected, was a tangle of tourists and outrageously-priced restaurants. I fell asleep to whistling wind and woke to the cute pitter patter of what I hoped were pine needles hitting the tent. It wasn't. By the time I was packed up and downtown it was pouring rain and 43 degrees. I got wifi from Starbucks and the radar showed showers extending as far west as Golden, so pedal in the rain it was. As a consolation, Mountain Hardware's $75 rain jacket really does work pretty well.

So a full day in the rain, with just enough dry breaks to take a few photos.

Yeah, it's fall for sure.

From such great heights she could hear the satellite coming down.

Despite some cool mornings, I think this summer will be the death knell for a lot of local glaciers.

Debra came up from Utah, and we rented the Gird Point cabin.

The west side of the Pioneers, looking for moose.

A little-known lake in Banff.

A better-known lake in Banff.

Oooh, Canadian girls.

The Plain of Six Glaciers.

Kootenay National Park.

I'm not tired, I'm not tired, I'm.

Well look who ran the Missoula half marathon!

Every morning the sun rises two minutes later than the day before.

Greg took me paddleboarding on the Bitterroot one day after work.

So one day we decided to rent a jackhammer and concerete saw and do away with some sidewalk. A few days later, this is what I had. I say "I" because conveniently Laura and Cooper decided to vacation in Atlanta as soon as the project got underway.

Sidewalk half done. Why not see some stuff?

Middle Teton via the southwest couloir, in a day. The Grand looms to the north.

Three hours into the Middle Teton.

Burritos for dinner, **again**.

Next day: three-mile epic wildflower ridge walk on the way to Table Mountain.

Back at home -- oh, that sidewalk is not building itself, is it?

The shepherd living on Jumbo Saddle this summer: I can't tell if he's a self-conscious hipster or the real thing. I tempted to say he's the real thing.

Afternoons in Pattee: days are getting shorter and it's starting to look like fall!

Up with the sun.

4 a.m. is the new 5.

Of course, the mountain is all yours at the late hour of 5 a.m. anyway.

No joke. It's nice to be up early.

A nice downhill stretch of the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, just off the Continental Divide near Fleecer.

$1.06 worth of bolts, nuts, and washers broke on the Chariot, rendering forward progress nearly impossible. Of course, this happened 75 miles from the nearest hardware store and on the hottest day of the year, but we were able to cobble together a self-evacuation to Dillon, where cold drinks awaited.

New vs. old.

Here's the break spot to give a better idea of what happened:

One bolt on either side of the body holds the main frame tube to a down-tube coming from the push bar. Both of these snapped simultaneously while rolling over a particularly stout cattle guard (or, as they call them in Canada, 'Texas guard'). As I've written before, this Chariot has literally thousands of miles on it in every condition imaginable -- from legitimate mountain desert mountain biking to blizzards, and lots of highway miles -- so it should not come as a shock that things are wearing out on it.

The Pioneer Mountains.

The final turns of the year came, as usual, in Colt Killed Cirque, but this time at the ridiculously early date of June 20 -- and that date was stretching things. This year had just 63 ski outings -- the lowest in memory -- and only a handful of true powder days. While paltry snowfall was the headline, the truth is that this was a great ski season. Good weather, good travel conditions, excellent stability, and a lot of great ski partners meant I was able to hit big things in mid-winter at a time when I'm normally relegated to Lolo Pass.

Note the lack of snow in this photo.

Fewer ski days means more ride time.

And, of course, family time.