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Hey, everybody,welcome to Bull Mountain...
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a slice of heaven nestled in thecleavage of Alaska's high country.
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It all started when a young bucknamed Herbert Muntz...
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saw the promise of a new lifeand staked his claim to it...
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the old-fashioned way...he stole it from the Eskimos.
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Round these partshe became known as Papa.
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Each year, Papa would say thank youby droppin' his britches...
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and blazin' down that mountainbare-assed...
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in one of his famous"moonshine" runs.
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Papa loved to ski...
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and Papa loved to drink...
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but most of all,Papa loved to ski and drink...
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at the same time!
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Last year he diedwith his boots on...
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Bull Mountain!Don't go changin'!
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and not much else.
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Nowadays, Papa's boyruns the mountain...
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but us locals still carry onthe freewheelin' spirit of Papa's life.
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You could say that this mountain'sa lot like a woman...
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just when you think you knowevery inch of her...
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and you're about to dip your skisinto some soft, deep powder...
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bam!
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You got two broke legs,cracked ribs.
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Then you pay your 20 bucks justto let her punch your lift ticket
all over again.
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One
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Two
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Gonna get in the carwith a smile and the burn
prev.