Niseko & Black Diamond lodge: I’ll miss your calm and cold nights on the chairlift, and deep days in the forests, winds blowing up high.

Tokachidake: I’ll miss your Onsens, gifts from the boiling mountain! And you too, Mr. Hokkaido Fox.

As seen in forthcoming Japan: A Skier’s Journey Ep1 [Season 3] and Powder magazine feature article on Tokachidake, coming 2012/13 ski season.

and this. Daryl Treadway at Great Canadian Heli, Rogers Pass, BC.

Thanks to Powder Quest for logistical support, and SouthAmericaSki.com for moral support.

Roadside. Ruta 40, middle of the middle of nowhere, Argentina.

Casualties in the desert.

Pampas, and Chad Sayers.

Volcan Lanin. The highest in a region of many beautiful volcanos.

Maximilliano Artoni on Volcan Lanin.

Maxi and Chad. This was Max’s 25th time up Lanin. We finally got to ski his prized line – no wind, full sun. A rare window. It was perfect.

After summiting Volcan Copahue, water steaming from it’s lake/caldera , we skied several thousand feet of smooth wind buffed snow arriving at some hot springs, still high in the alpine. Afterwards I toured the inside of some abandoned buildings next to the hot springs. Just a normal ski day in Caviahue, Argentina.

Bitter sweet indeed is my re-entry into the world of connectedness. The remote nature of living in the fjords on Baffin Island was a cushion against receiving much, if any, information except via the occasional satellite check-in. Upon re-entry I learned that a friend, Kip Garre, passed away with his girlfriend, Allison Kreutzen, after having been hit by an avalanche while backcountry skiing in the Sierra Range, California. I knew Kip from our trip to Antarctica together, skiing in Kashmir, and from shooting photos together in Chamonix last February. While my time with him amounted to no more than a month over the course of the past few years, it was more than enough opportunity to discover his selflessness, his consistant and contagious passion and energy for the mountains, and his prowess moving through the mountains. He was continually “fired up” [he'd always say] about rounding the next corner in life and discovering new and exciting places to travel and ski. I think those who came in contact with him had their days brightened, even just a bit, as his energy rubbed off on them.

His abilities in the mountains, too, rubbed off. I remember last year in Chamonix watching him clambering down technical rock lines, with skis on, and off, and thinking I’d never seen anyone conduct themselves so proficiently, and eloquently in technical, high consequence terrain like that. Rather than intimidating me, Kip inspired me. His immense talent corresponded with a quiete confidence, and a profound sense of humility, which was refreshing. I realized that Kip was an unsung hero of ski mountaineering that did things not because there was a camera around or someone was watching, but because he loved the activity – plain and simple. When it was my turn to follow him through those critical steps through the rock into the couloir, his patience and concurrent calm encouragement helped me get through the crux. Below, we shared what was my first “real” run in Chamonix together, ecstatic by the time we’d reached the valley floor 7000′ below.

I will miss that I won’t be able to share any more time in the mountains with Kip, but am at least happy that I do have some great memories of our time together sharing the alpine beauty. My heart goes out to his family and those that were closest to him.

about the photos. top, Kip in an ice cave along the Vallee Blanche in Chamonix, France.

bottom, Kip in Chamonix staring up at the mountains in Chamonix. While this photo of Kip was shot during a commercial shoot and may have been a bit contrived at the time, I think it represents Kip’s outlook well: always smiling, optimistic, and energetic about life in the mountains and the next challenge ahead. It is that spirit I will remember Kip for.