Thanks to everyone who reads the Pilot and an extra thank you to those who’ve asked me when I’m going to write another Chairlift column.  

I've been riding the chairs alone, mostly, although my first Chair 2 ride this season was with a man who claimed he’d been skiing Big Mountain for 71 years. He was 75 years old. 

With the way things are currently in the world, in the country and on our ski hill, I figured I'd write about a friendship that keeps me afloat. It lifts my spirits, much like a chairlift. It’s where I can find comfort, a smile, a deep breath.  

I was on the back stoop of the ceramics room on the first day of graduate school in Missoula. Another student walked up and asked if I’d like to go for a bike ride. That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. 

After getting to know Caitlin, I realized how uncharacteristic it was for her to approach a stranger and actually have the guts to suggest a bike ride. We’re both glad she mustered the nerve to talk to me, a person born with a “get away from me” scowl.  

We rode our bikes up Pattee Canyon many times and back down at the speed of sound, with faces forward and backs straight to be as aerodynamic as possible.  

Cait worked as an exercise rider for racehorses at the fairgrounds while pursuing her undergraduate degree. She would’ve much rather been hiking, biking or riding racehorses than sitting still in a lecture hall.  

She is high energy. 

We lived in a house on Kensington Avenue for about a year with four other people, including her boyfriend who left his shoes and his dirty dishes in the living room. We each paid $52 a month for rent. 

A couple of roommates talked about an epic Blue Mountain bike ride. Days later, Caitlin and I left the house in the morning, rode about 9 miles to Blue Mountain and up the trails there. It was dark when we got home.  

The next morning, we discovered our friends had driven to the trailhead before taking their ride. That was not the sort of thing that would have occurred to us. Our ride was super-epic. 

She is thoughtful. 

We text one another almost every day. Most times, it is simply, “You OK?” 

To which, the other usually replies, “Yes. You OK?” 

It is a simple, quick way to check in and feel connected. Of course, if one of us is not OK, we will follow up with a longer text or a phone call. 

She is an excellent listener.  

She is the kind of friend you can call at 3 a.m., not necessarily because there is an emergency, but because you are staying at a friend’s of a friend in an outbuilding which is also used as a wood finishing shop and the smell of varnish is keeping you awake and you are worried you are being slowly poisoned by the fumes but it’s maybe 6 degrees outside and you are not sure what to do. 

She is a friend. 

Knowing Cait makes me feel like a better person, not only because of her genuine, caring nature, but because I’ve been able to nurture this relationship with her for many years. I’ve been able to lend an ear and provide space to rant, when needed.  

Knowing she is my friend makes me feel supported and it lightens loads that sometimes feel almost unbearable.  

I hope you know someone like Cait -- a powerful, perceptive and generous friend.