Carl and I go back quite a ways; as I recall, our first experience might have been a somewhat pathetic ski trip near Baker the week before Thanksgiving, 1976. I think it was Carl, Lowell and I who made the mistake of camping in a north facing bowl on a cold winter weekend. It was so chilly because of the campsite choice, we only got out of our tents for about 6 hours mid-day. That trip went a long ways towards curing me of mid-winter snow camps. Over the years, Carl increasingly became a close friend - although sharing meals with him on an outing was risky business - he had a voracious appetite. That misgiving was offset by his genuine enthusiasm for the out of doors, his balanced perspective when things got tough, and his ready laugh and smile. <br><br>Carl shared with me his enthusiasm for photography and taught me virtually all I know about the technical aspects of that endeavor, spending time explaining various techniques in the field and answering patiently what must have seemed like a never ending string of questions over the phone about photos and computers. His enthusiasm led me to my first desert trip in 1991. Carl was the one friend I felt I could comfortably share a backcountry photography trip with; he was the one person I could often call on short notice for many different types of outings involving cross-country hiking and skiing. He was often a cut-up, enjoyed laughing, and we had many great laughs and great times in the mountains.<br><br>Now, his spirit will always be in the peaks for me, and I feel I have lost one of my most enthusiastic partners. But, it isn't me I feel for; I wish I could bring him back. But I can't. His brothers and their mates, sisters, mother, and nephews have lost a very fun family member; his brothers Gordy and Lowell more than that. He was a great companion. Carl, we won't forget you.
