Holla, holla homies.  So I'm sitting here enjoying my new computer.  Full on surfin Al Gore's world wide web (similar to the internet, I think).  You should definitely check homie Mark Cafiero's site at www.sixpeeps.com for surfin pleasure.  He's a wedding photag who just got engaged, so congratulations to him!  

Also, I must express my love/hate relationship with roomie Pachanga's music.  I either love the shit he's listening to and put it on replay for a month or hate it enough that I can't stay in the house if it continues on our stereo.  So he mentioned this site to me - www.pandoras.com. Amazing.  'nuff said.

But the real point is that I have some sweet patrolling photos from last season and wanted to share.  The goods:

I can't seem to remember what we named this furry friend.  Unfortunately he didn't look too hot and the fact that he was wondering around at tree line on the Outback mid-winter didn't bode well for him...  Then again there was this one pocket gopher... 

One of my favorite pics.  Even at 7:30am ski patrolling is an amazing experience - best job in the world.

Like I said - pimps of the powder we are.

So the snow cats groom runs like Mozart and Alamo (pictured here) late in the afternoon. Sometimes it then dumps overnight so in the morning you can rip those slopes knowing you're skiing on groomer underneath the powder.  If you look closely you can see that Matt Macy is turning my top-to-bottom powder straight line into dollar signs with perfect turns.

This shot is at the bottom of JG - the place that shall not be named.  Oh hello Phil and Janzen.

Looseness on top of the frozen ocean.  Nice shades Mitchell.

"I am not a crook!"  Richard Nixon said that, but I'll do about anything for perfect pow.

Goddamn f-ing gapers gapin' out.

So the Mank Crew rocked the Beaver yesterday.  She's been getting hammered, but didn't have any new snow for two days or so.  We did some hiking and rope ducking and found many, many stashes that wouldn't have existed in Summit Co.  The rich folks round here either suck at riding, follow the rules or both.  Anyway, we took the opportunity to rip three day old powder.  Here's a shot of B hucking.  It's hard to tell because I'm shooting upward on a 50 degree slope, but he probably picked up 10 feet of air or so and landed out of sight behind the tree.  The powder was several feet deep and we created some monster bomb holes!  

After years of saying I would go to Shoshone and paddle on New Years Day, I woke up January 1, 2008 on the floor, completely hung in friend's parent's house, 200 miles from Glenwood Springs.  Yet this year I had a secret weapon.  This little lady was there and not willing to take "ughhh, blargh, ugh" for an answer (even though I offered it several times).  So for your chilled viewing pleasure - a shot of us at the putin with long shadows just before darkness at 30 degrees or so.

So during the weeks before, Matt Soloman, Hobie and company from Vail talked a bunch of shit about running Barrel Springs.  We all know what happened there - they got cold and didn't even take a look.  I know this because while scouting Maria mentioned that ours were the only foot prints in the 1' deep snow.  Plus there were ice undercuts everywhere, pretty much necessitating a scout.  I must say it was intense putting in knowing that the ice shelves on either bank were undercut and 2' tall.  There was definitely no escape from the river should anything happen in the below freezing temps.  The water was crazy too.  As soon as it would pool, it would freeze into slushy consistency, but then in the rapids the kinetic energy would re-melt it.  This pic of me is at the takeout and you can see that the sun has set and my pfd is a frozen sheet of ice.  We couldn't get them off and had to drive to a gas station in Glenwood in full gear to melt and change.  Thank God for the adjacent springs and Vicco's Charcoburger.  
Just for comparison sake, I figured I'd post a shot of us the next day powder skiing the Taint.

So, I made it to Ecuador, but you'd never know it by this shot.  Here's a self portrait of me at DIA right after the gate attendant told me I couldn't get on the plane because TSA f-ed up and hadn't double secret searched me.  I had also just witnessed my boat board that particular plane at the cost of $250.  So you can see - I almost went Gaylord Focker on them, "Bomb, bbbomb, ba bomb, ba bomb bomb bomb!"  I am a male nurse after all.

Ahhh, back to my happy place with a good huck.

Is that Dr. Brad, MD boofing in the jungle?  Why isn't he saving patients?

This here is a monkey - also known as Monos for those of you with Southern flavor on the tongue.  This here monkey didn't bite Dr. Brad, but a similar one did.  The Good Doctor spent a week on the couch near death visiting the emergency department every day after his return to the States.  I'm still not completely sure what was wrong with him, but he has returned to health and is back doing his doctor thing in Mancos.  Congratulations Brad and Megan on the upcoming little one!

Alright, some more long promised pics for your flavorholes.  Here is without a doubt my favorite picture I've ever seen of me.  Take that Gary Edgeworth.

And the Mank crew routes on through the end of the gorge.