Well, tragically, there's this returning theme through my blog and it could be summarized by my favorite print columist, Jim Anchower.  He'd of course type, "Hola amigos.  I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but the waters are not always smooth on Lake Anchower."  Straight off the Grand Canyon, I rolled back into life and patrolling.  Now things have been going pretty good for me lately, but I've definitely been needing SCUBA gear to keep my head afloat.  The life of the Mank Crew remains chronically cranking at frentic pace.  I did say things are good and since I last rapped at ya, I picked up this lovely little lady - 

Lucky man you might say and I'd be inclined to agree with you.  However, as proof of the shit show, I present you with a picture that I've fondly entitled, "Fucking lost."
And its fellow picture, "oh, shit."
The story behind these shots goes something like this: Peter and I get invited/begged onto this trip to the Eiseman hut.  It's about 8-10 miles in the backcountry south of Vail.  A couple of us get out in front without any idea of where to go, but we're assuming a good trail.  We hike for hours in the wrong direction.  I'm in front and holding a free topo map from the internet.  We know we're going the wrong way, but assume that we could just drop of the back of the mountain to the hut.  I made it up to treeline - way higher in elevation than the hut.  The clouds had rolled in and it was late in the afternoon.  As I looked at the map, where I was sure we were standing under the map key which read, "Use at your own risk, we make no claims for the accuracy of this map," I remembered that in life, you get what you pay for.  So I took the first shot of the area where I thought the hut was (completely wrong) and skied with the group back to the car.  We spent the night with friends in Vail and made it the next day.
Straight pimpin' at Eisman Hut.
Yes, he is the bachelor.  Later in the winter, we rolled to Tahoe for Joel's Bachelor party.  It was the best of all worlds - parties, gamblin, drinkin, carousing, and skiing.  We found some hella good side-country and Reid fired feasts of legendary proportions.  What's the most important thing on a boys weekend with lots of booze?
GUNS of course!
Yes, we were threatened with eviction from the casinos about a dozen times.
Aw, my true memories of the evenings spent in Tahoe.

Through all the patrolling and trips, I still didn't really get my skiing fix this winter until March.  Even on this trip, the snow was sunny and warm, but I made the best out of it with a solo tour for an epic ski.  This had been truly one of my dreams since I'd first laid eyes on it.  The pic below is from the top of San Joaquin Peak looking back at my tracks leaving Telluride Ski Resort.  The far side of the ridge in question is the top of Palmyra Peak.
The shot below is of San Joaquin Peak taken from the top of Palmyra Peak in Telluride.  I skied down a scar named the San Joaquin Couloir that strikes in the shadows straight through the huge cliff band. 
Here's the scar as viewed from in-bounds Telluride:This shot looks straight down the couloir.  It's 45-50 degrees steep, never wider than about 30' and cuts down to about 8' at the crux.  A fall would result in a skier tomahawking 1800' feet to the bottom.
Here's a shot straight down to the valley floor from half-way down.  This is the tightest spot.
Hell yea.  Through the crux.  Of note, you can see my pole in the ground - steep.
Here's from the bottom looking up.
And a grand finale shot from the top of the peak looking down Bear Creek into Telluride.  I wanted to give a shout out to my Aunt Gina for hooking up the sweet crib. 

Well, that was most of the highlights of winter '08 (minus the Grand, of course).  Here comes spring - Costa Rica, Fowler/Hillard college reunion tour, and KAYAKING SEASON!!!!