Replying to A true ski bum...

WHITEFISH - When Craig Moore began his pursuit of an endless Montana winter he never imagined that after 48 consecutive months he might still be skiing with no end in sight.

The professional outdoor photographer and avid mountaineer struck out for his eternal ski season in November 2007 with an objective to ride Montana's groomers, glaciers and snowfields at least one day every month of the calendar year, all within 70 miles of his Whitefish home.

The first six months came easy. A fall storm merged seamlessly into an exceptional ski season, and Moore went about business as usual, alternating between lift-access runs at Whitefish Mountain Resort and high-yielding backcountry powder caches in Glacier National Park, the Jewel Basin, the Whitefish Range or the Middle Fork Flathead River.

In June, his passion demanded a bit more creativity, and Moore routinely pedaled his mountain bike up closed U.S. Forest Service roads in search of snow, or ascended Going-to-the-Sun Road to Logan Pass, skis lashed to his pack.

By August, the veteran powder hound was making turns on sultry afternoons, running out sun-cupped lines to the edges of alpine lakes and, still in his ski boots, casting flies to hungry trout (he packs a four-piece fly rod).

He has endured frenetic summer storms while bivouacking in 90 mph winds on Mount Jackson, flashes of lightning illuminating dark talus boulders against pale north-facing snowfields.

And then he woke up in a whiteout, laced together a dozen slalom turns, and hiked the 14 miles back to his car.

He has negotiated the perils of glide cracks and collapsing snow bridges, bergschrunds, crevasses and rockfall.

"They haven't all been powder days, but it's always an adventure," he said.

Not even hunting trips have escaped his obsession. On a typical outing, Moore will scan the mountainsides for rock-studded snowfields as vigilantly as he glasses for deer and elk, his bewildered companions watching as he sets down his gun, unfastens his boards, and strides purposefully through the brush toward an apron of snow.

"I think the most difficult aspect of this project has been finding people to join me," Moore said. "I'll propose skiing in the mountains on a summer day when most people are thinking about water skiing."

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The project began as an experiment that combined Moore's passion for outdoor adventure and his sense of the changing landscape. Limited resources and a full-time job conspired to keep him range-bound, so he settled on a geographic proximity close to home.

"Plenty of people have skied year-round, but they've done it by traveling the world," Moore said. "I don't have the money to go to South America or Switzerland for a weekend ski trip."

But the circumscribed criteria of Moore's project have served another purpose - to highlight the effects of climate change on Montana's dissipating glaciers and snowfields. As glaciers continue to recede due to global warming, Moore believes that now may be his only opportunity to capitalize on Montana's perennial winter, and draw attention to the need for conservation.

"I'm not on an environmental crusade, but what I'm doing may not be possible in 10 or 20 years. And that's unfortunate. I want to take advantage of the glaciers while they're here," Moore said. "Since I started this project, I've been able to witness changes to the snowfields. I'm not presenting that as scientific evidence, but I don't think future generations will be able to do this."

The project has since morphed into a personal and professional obsession now entering its fifth year. He built a website to chronicle his adventures and showcase his photographs at www.glacierworld.com.

But if Moore set out solely to show the world that it's possible for a dedicated powder hound to sniff out snow year-round, surely he's proven his theory.

So why in 2011 is he still single-mindedly formulating plans for a November ski outing?

"I ask myself that question a lot, but right now I don't see an end to this," he said. "If it does end, it's going to be something beyond my control. I want to keep going because this is my personal and professional project, but also because it's fun. I love sliding downhill."

For most people, sliding down hills on skis or a snowboard is a seasonal pursuit. But Moore has shown that in Montana, given a lofty altitude and corresponding ambition, skiers can ply their trade any day of the year.

When he strikes out for Jewel Basin on Friday and descends the northeast ridge of Mount Aeneas, he'll celebrate his four-year anniversary, and he'll do so with little fanfare.

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Still, Moore hopes his achievement doesn't go entirely unrecognized.

To that end, he has entered a contest called Ultimate Ski Bum, and a prominent link at www.glacierworld.com will direct online viewers to a web page where they can vote and comment on Moore's achievement.

Surely anyone who skis roughly 150 days each year has a good shot at so auspicious a title as "Ultimate Ski Bum," and Moore hopes he wins.

He also has his eye on the mouthwatering prize - a pack of eight season passes to ski areas across the nation, helicopter trips, lodging, gas and a rental car for three months, a package totaling $30,000 value.

"This would be a great chance for me to do more ski photography and allow me to grow professionally," he said.

Even if he doesn't win, Moore said the past four years have been reward enough.

"I love the solitude of the backcountry and I also love the convenience and safety of the resort. Some days I want the adventure of route-finding and skiing huge lines in the backcountry, but other days I just want to rip groomers," Moore said. "In Montana, both are options."