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.

Marcho polo.

Yeah, it’s the season for getting around and conquering stuff. Like Hyalite:

And French-style apple tarts:

And Bridger Bowl:

And some backwoods backroad hunch that led to just about nowhere, but was fun huffing for a while:

And mighty Mt. Sentinel, whereupon a 'nola' bar awaits.

Meanwhile, in the city:

Ring around the griz:

Beers in downtown Kalispell:

Cooper’s new favorite sticker (the red one):

Yes, the French really do climb mountains with light narrow skis and pull out celebratory bottles of aged high-end liqueur.

Uphill in Hyalite:

Downhill in Bear Canyon:

French dining, this time in an American castle in Corvallis:

Jordi the Spaniard slayed the Madisons, so fast my phone couldn’t capture him:

… at least not until he stopped at the truck to have a beer:

This spring’s warm weather and no snow unearthed a treasure trove of discount pre-purchased lift tickets which were ripe for the picking (on Craigslist). Prices were good at Bridger, great at Big Mountain, and hard to beat at Snowbowl (i.e., free). So Kevin and I rode the lifts to launch into the backcountry, slackcountry-style:

Families are forever together, at least when there’s a triple chair.

Though we space out a bit on the ride down.

What – what? Snow?

Kevin, free-passing his way into the Rattlesnake:

Ready for another spring and summer of skiing.