Bill was a true inspiration to me. Athletically he was a monster, an amazing skier, tireless climber and fearless biker. He always seemed to push out front to find and break trail in the deep snow.  He led us places I never would imagine I’d go. Following Bill’s tracks was usually a blast (with a few miserable, but thankfully not deadly exceptions). As a musician he was talented and totally collaborative. The nightly jams we had in huts all over Colorado above 11,000 ft. were some of the best musical experiences I’ve ever had. One year he left his guitar up at Fowler Hilliard Hut in Colorado because they didn’t have one. I thought there should be some documentation or mythology around this generous act, so I wrote a poem for the hut logbook. When Bill died in 2018 I knew I had to write a song for his memorial and remembered I had photographed the poem in the log. I don’t know where his band and musical stage name Will Cooter came from. But he wore it well.