Its hard to say exactly how it happened. You were the experienced (and crusty) ski bum and I was the east coast “sockhead” who hunted for cat track side hits. You worked in the produce department, and I worked in the dairy. On the face of it, it seemed unlikely that we would become friends, but for some reason, you looked past my knuckle dragging and showed me the way of the mountains. I would even eventually ditch my one plank for two. Never would have seen that coming...

You knew all the best pow stashes and single-track, and you shared it all with me. Giving notes on what to expect ahead or where to regroup. And of course, some “constructive” criticism… But who wouldn’t take notes from a guy with such a smooth and effortless ski style?!?

At the top of the climbs, when I showed up last and exhausted, I could always count on being greeted with some witty taunts, followed by the trademark cackle. Always dished out in good fun and always hilarious.

Your influence wasn’t confined to just skis and bikes. I lost track of all the jobs I got on your recommendation. Some more legit and others... It seemed like every time you got a new job, you brought me with you!

For the better part of a decade, we spent an almost obscene amount of time together. In that time, you proved yourself to be much more than just a ski and bike partner. You’ve also been a mentor, a confidant, a sounding board, and a giver of sage advice. You, more or less, put up with my endless questions. You made hours spent in cars or days spent in shacks just fly by with your sense of humour and your legendary stories. And you even let me ski first from time to time!

In the years that we’ve lived far apart, I knew that no matter what, the next phone call or hang-out would be just like old times. Great humour, thoughtful insights, a little ribbing, and a lot of fun. Shooting the shit like we were still riding the lifts together everyday.

And at the end of most of those days, you’d declare it “BEST DAY EVER!” Well, you were right, every time…

We may have started as unlikely friends, but we became family. You are my big brother Al, and I love you. Peace homeboy.