Old man winter is back! Christmas came early this year with the gift of more snow and powder early season than I’ve ever seen. I thought this year couldn’t get any better. This last month proved me wrong. I feel like I’ve been home for two months but it’s only been one. I mean that in a great way. Celebrations, work, endless faceshots - what more could we ask for.

Work? Yep you read that right. On November 27th, I officially ended my self-induced, financially-foolish, somewhat-selfish, “best-decsion-I’ve-ever-made”, hiatus from work. It’s been almost 8 months of chasing goals and aspirations. Time to be an adult again.

I thought transitioning back would be a struggle. I expected a minor depression from missing the unrealistic life I just lived. Here’s the catch - it hasn’t felt that way at all.

I stepped back into guiding rejuvenated, excited, and addicted. I love looking for critters. I love people. How the hell I found a job where I sit behind binoculars all day and talk to people from around the world I still don’t know. It’s glorious. Jumping back to work not only feels normal but also fun. I missed it.

Plus alongside work I’ve skied over 15 days, had powder spray into every orifice of my body, and summited a peak I’ve wanted to sit on top for years in winter. I’ve realized starting work doesn’t mean an end to my passions. Starting work doesn’t indicate a finality to this year or my goals. My dreams only continue while working. I’m f*cking blessed.

It’s December 18th and we’ve totaled almost 200 inches of snow already. As I watch it fly my mind thinks of three things - faceshots, booters, and beer/eggs! We booted many Glory laps. Denton had a hilarious celebration idea last year for each Glory lap. We get home and refuel our bodies by chugging a beer with a raw egg in it. It’s tradition now.

We also skied the resort, skied Taylor, and finally stood on the summit of Teewinot in winter. I’ve skied Teewee twice before - broken thumb couloir and lookers-left of the east face. Tanner, Copeland, Tanyel, and I pushed for the true summit this year. It was rad to say the least. I’ve been on Teewee’s hilariously small summit 9 times in summer but now finally once in winter.

Of my 15+ days, I’ve only snowboarded 3. This is my year to fully transition to skiing for many reasons. I’ll still dabble in the split board occasionally. But sorry snowboarding, I have to cheat on you/break up. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s been an incredible relationship but we need some distance. We aren’t the best for each other and I think we should see other people. I suck at skiing and the only way to learn is to force it.

The falling snow also makes me think income. Snowflakes are like little dollar signs floating from the sky. The income disparity in Jackson is large. The saying goes “you either have 3 homes or 3 jobs”. I fall into the latter. I started shoveling snow a couple years ago. I need to change my age on my business cards though. They read “random 25-year-old with too much energy and a shovel”.

Hit me up though! It’s a somewhat thankless job from nature when you spend 4 hours clearing a deck or roof, only for it to be covered again the next morning. But I love it. I hop into “zombie-mode” similar to packing meat on a hunt. My mind goes quiet and the pain is peaceful. Also, I get to learn a lot about layers and consistency of snow - knowledge that translates very well to understanding avalanches.

A gift I came home to was my 2022 bull elk fully cleaned and ready for the wall. His Boone and Crocket score went 335 1/8th inches. I couldn’t be more pumped.

My moose head is still in Alaska. It’s sitting in a bucket of beetles getting cleaned. Hopefully in the next month it’ll ship down here and I can hang it too.

Also I learned my spring bear’s age. Game and Fish extracts a molar tooth from each bear harvested. It’s sent to a lab where they slice it in half and count rings of enamel to determine age. Those ages are then posted online. My spring bear that I harvested with Emma went 13.3 years old!

The average bear harvested this year was 3-4. Emma and I knew he was an old warrior from the teeth-wear but I was shocked to hear 13.3. That’s so badass. He got to live a full life breeding sows and doing bear-things. Now a new, younger boar can enter that canyon and increase genetic diversity. Plus this old guy won’t kill any more cubs. If I could ask for a management bear to harvest, it’s this old boar.

Hearing his age also gave me a reality check. Bears are stupidly hard to judge. They are usually alone and difficult to tell size at a distance. This being my 5th bear, however, I felt confident. I watched him for three hours a couple days prior thinking it was a large sow or mid-sized boar. I passed on him.

I wanted a larger-looking bear or to at least wait until Emma was with me. Later with Emma, after an entire evening of glassing with no bears, this guy stepped out the following morning. Needless to say I was humbled when I walked up on him - much bigger and older than I thought.

It’s holiday season! I feel like a terrible family member missing all of my family’s gatherings during this time. Mom’s birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc. But Jackson is a tourist destination so work is busiest during the holidays. Luckily I have my Jackson family and shoot-dang we like a reason to celebrate.

I say I can’t leave Jackson because of the wildlife, skiing, climbing, and hunting. But truly I can’t leave because of these people. I love you guys.

It’s not Christmas without a tree! No tree farms here. We pay a small fee to the National Forest for a tree-cutting permit. We then go pick whichever one we want in the woods.

Gotta love the National Forest. Camping, hunting, fishing, and Christmas trees.

For three years our tradition has been to use guns instead of a saw. This is Wyoming. We put a beautiful stalk on this tree. Glassed it from several hundred yards, got the wind in our favor, and crept up slowly. We are talking bow-range. It was intense. Kelly and Emma put the final kill-shot (shots?) on this old warrior.

Life has it’s tough moments too.

If you know me well you know I love snakes. I love their biology, looking for them, holding them, and photographing them. Like I said on the first page of this blog, I’m f*cking weird.

Well for the past several years I’ve had a pet ball python. Or should I say we’ve had a pet ball python. I have amazing friends like Denton, Caleb, Dan, Sam, Emma, Kelly, Kenny, Tanner and others who helped care for and chill with Nudes.

WTF you named your snake Nudes??

Well it started at Danger Noodle, switched to Noods for short, then Nudes for comic relief.

Winter can be hard on reptiles. Not so much the temperature (heating pads/lamps take care of that), but humidity. Jackson is so dry but ball pythons are native to Africa. They are notoriously picky eaters yet Nudes always thrived except at the start of each winter when humidity really changed. I ferociously sprayed his cage to contain humidity. He’d refuse mice for a month or so and then pick back up by mid-winter.

Something happened this year and our little guy passed away. Truly I don’t know. It was a devastating moment and it’s sucks harder not knowing what happened.

Denton was Nudes’ best uncle. The day Nudes died, Denton joined me on a sunset booter up Glory. We buried Nudes under a snowy tree at 10,000ft - a place no other snake would go. I look at that tree every time I boot Glory now.

And for all you Jackson locals - yes, there is a snake at the top of Glory. And I’m sorry if you don’t like snakes. But the ghost of my ball python will be up there forever.

There’s one week left until Christmas. Which to me is the start and end of each year. Why not New Years? Well usually I’m somewhat hungover on January 1st and that’s a poor way to start a year.

But December 25th will be the 3rd annual 10k vertical Christmas! It’s a silly tradition I started to incentivize endless backcountry skiing and enjoy a true white Christmas. That feels like a better way to start and end each year.

I have some thoughts on life, work, etc. that I’ll share soon. That will conclude this year and blog. But for now please stop reading and go ski.

settin’ booters

the checkered flag

the nose