A little over a week ago a good friend from way back came to visit. (And you know he is still a good friend, when he shows up at the door with 3 cases of good beer. Yeehaw!)

Yes me and Scott Dubois (aka, Buckmeister Fullerine, Snotty da Boy, Bucky the Balls), go way back. Credit to him for keeping my marriage intact by saving my wife from drowning not once, but multiple times.

Early on in my marriage to Christy, we were rabid kayakers (I say "we" and that is perhaps in the royal sense of "we", because in wiffies eyes, kayaking was not necessarily one of her "passions." In fact, I think she rather hated it.)

Many a time, I would come off a killer surf wave or great session in a play hole and find that Scotty was dragging my wife to shore on the back of his kayak. Apparently, there she had been, wondering where her absentee husband was, while she was sitting in her kayak and staring down the maw of some insane rapid. A monster of a lateral wave or carnivous hole would then consume her emotional essence as she tried to make her way down. Then, there she was, a swimming. And then, before you knew it, Buckster was there to save her.

Man alive I tell you, Scotty is da Boss, a real Super Dude Bro.
The kind of guy one can always count on to be there. Week long trips on Middle Fork Salmon. Many an extended weekend up at Alpine or Payettes. And the Selway, how can I forget the Selway at super flood stage. This was a weeklong self support at 9 feet. It was BIG, that is a capital "B", "I", and a "G."

It was on that wild trip that BuckNuts spotted the cougar.

Were talking the most massive farmcat kitty you have ever seen. Height and coat color of a large golden retriever, but torso twice as long. There was an eternal moment as it stared into our eyes, contemplating whether we were its next meal. Water dripping from its jowls, it saw us more threat than supper, so it turned to move up slope. But no hurry here, just smooth long strokes of its powerful limbs as it pawed it way up slope. In a brief few seconds it was 30 ft up a scree slope where it stopped and disappeared.

A bewildering moment of optical illusion was dispelled when suddenly it moved again, flicking its massive black-ring tail dismissively. Stopping now again more than 50 feet up slope it vanished again, its perfect camouflaged coat blending seamlessly into the mountain side. A creepy thought then hit me, a wonderment of how many times had I been this close to a mountain lion, and never even knew it was there.

Scotty's visit was a wonderful blast from past. It had been many years since I had seen him last. Many a tentative plan had been foiled by "oh too busy with work," "too busy with kids," or "I just dont have the vacation time." You see, Scott has not been idle over the ages, he has been busy breeding. He has two delightful kids, Harlan and Tobin. Scott and his wife Sara were here for the wedding of a mutual friend, and we were lucky enough to have him stay with us for an extended weekend.

First things first, we took Scotty for a icy terror up Memorial Colour on Mt Olympus. Starting out up Neffs canyon was a jovial reunion of old freinds
Weens, J and BuckNuts (and my arm) enjoying good company, in lew of good snow.

From the movie "Weens in the Mist" staring the pow princess herself, soon to be shrucking down into cloud shrouded oblivion.

This was less than ideal powder conditions and not warm enough to soften for "spring skiing" snow. But occasionally the turns linked less than terrifyingly.

The next day was a kids day and, for us, a little more mellow outing up Millcreek canyon was explored. This was to be Harlan and Tobin's first "Backcountry tour" day. Which involved Scotty schlepping the kids up in his chariot over one mile to the Elbow fork trail head.
Once up at the top it was a fine day to rest and eat snacks before the decent. (Note the Lewie doing his usual, looking for fortuitous droppings from on high.)

The slope is that of a resort "green" run and quite fun for his two troopers (my boy never woke up, slept the whole time).
Woohoo! Look Ma, no poles!

A two and 4 year old ripping it up.

(like the pug? He is a photoshop add in, can you tell?)

Buckers visit was great. Memorial weekend will be our turn to visit him in his new home town of Reno NV.