I woke up early to get to Mount Baker for my first real backcountry outing. Getting into the backcountry had been something I always wanted to do, but with a few rough years of injuries behind me, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get the chance. After minimal rest and a lot of driving, this was shaping up to be a bit of a mission—both physically and mentally.

I met up with the Andrews (yes, both named Andrew) and one of the Andrews’ girlfriends, Alicia, at Joe’s Coffee before we headed out. We drove toward the bowls behind the resort—on the far side of a ridge across the way. The crew had recently completed their Avalanche Safety course, and the area was highly trafficked, which made me feel more comfortable despite my body running on fumes. A few prescribed meds didn’t hurt either.

Let’s be honest—I was the liability. My left leg was barely functional, but I pushed through, tailing them like a lost puppy crossed with a Make-A-Wish kid.

All things considered, it turned out to be a solid day. The snow wasn’t perfect, but the skies were clear, and Andrew (the photographer of the two) helped me shoot in an environment I hadn’t yet had the chance to document. For future reference, he’ll now be referred to as Birdman.

Birdman and I met at the Naval Academy. We quickly recognized each other’s quirky energy and oddball personalities. It was clear early on that this guy wasn’t your typical rugged, savage rugby player—he spent most of his spare time birdwatching. Thus: Birdman. Our paths didn’t cross often—we were in different sports, chasing different degrees—but every time they did, there was never a dull moment. We had a mutual web of friends, shared values, and that unspoken understanding that usually comes with knowing someone who just gets it.

That’s one of the things that makes the Naval Academy special—it creates bonds that stick, even if you only cross paths once in a while. Birdman’s wife, Ashley, was one of my classmates and lab partners during our chemistry days. Somehow, despite that, she never convinced him to stay far away from me. Maybe because Birdman, like most solid people, respects others who are unapologetically themselves.

After dinner with the crew, Birdman insisted I stay at his place for a bit. Ashley was out of town and his work schedule was light, so the timing worked out. We both smirked, knowing a few days unsupervised felt like being two kids whose parents left town. The only condition? I had to go to church with him the next day. I’m not overly religious, but we share similar values, and I’m always open to meeting people who hold those values—even if they arrive at them from different directions.

I looked forward to the days ahead—knowing I’d have someone to lean on, bounce thoughts off of, and help reflect on the bigger picture behind this trip. Birdman’s is that kind of friend—the kind that doesn’t need to say much to make you feel like you’re in the right place, doing the right thing, even if you’re not quite sure where it’s all going yet.