By Hal Walter
“The following may or may not be true. And if it ain’t then it ought to be.”
That is an opening quote from one of Curtis Imrie’s films, The Lost Frontier.
Curtis collapsed and died while preparing to show one of his donkeys at the National Western Stock Show back in January. He was 70 years old and doing what he loved. To borrow from Thoreau, one of Curtis’ favorite authors, here was a man who figuratively “sucked the marrow out of life.”
By Patty LaTaille
When I was asked to write a story about Bill Forrest, I hesitated briefly. Having met Bill during an interview assigned by The Mountain Gazette, I spent a number of fascinating hours listening to his stories and poking around his workshop filled with all sorts of innovative climbing devices and snowshoe models. He introduced me to his wife Rosa, and so began a friendship of shared meals, chance meetings and a memorable snowshoe adventure at Beaver Creek, in which Bill in his ever gracious manner shoveled out my Subaru not once, but twice from neighboring snow banks.