Dan Egan: Living in every extreme (skiing) moment
Mar. 19—PLYMOUTH
Extreme skiing. With those two words, others whoosh into focus: No limits. Adrenaline. Adventure. Conquest.
The joy of living each moment, senses engaged, making each turn, bump, drop and jump count. Breathing in wind and whiteness, perhaps as far as the eyes can see. But definitely inside your soul.
That's Dan Egan's life on the edge.
"I love the feeling of gliding on and through snow. It's the adventure side of skiing, going out to a big mountain and associating with nature in a way that's different from resort skiing," said Egan, 60, who lives in Thornton when he's not in a distant, mostly vertical world.
"I like the weather patterns, the wind patterns, the texture of snow. I love finding on any given day the best place to ski. I rarely look at daily weather reports. I like trusting the conditions that the universe provides."
During winter and early spring, between wilderness excursions, you'll find him at Tenney Mountain, where he is general manager and guru-in-residence for how to love snow in all its phases and forms.
For Egan, winter has no hockey stop. No billboard says skiing is over.
"At Tenney, you see skiing unfiltered. All conditions. All weather," said Egan, after a run from the summit on natural cover surprisingly thick after recent rain. "I get joy in operating a place where people can discover that."
On Saturday, he watched "skinners" snake uphill on skis outfitted with traction "skins" underneath, so they can ski down from the top — a practice that endures after most lifts close. From here, Egan will head to Utah to emcee the 2024 induction into the U.S. Ski and Snowboard Hall of Fame.
Egan, named to the ski Hall of Fame in 2016, has a resume of precipices, peaks and treks that have propelled him to places that take two to four days just to fly to — then find with a compass or guide.
"I tell people, if you're going to get lost in the snow, I'm a good person to be with," he said. "The issue is you have to call before the storm hits."
On the frontier
Extreme skiing has grown as a winter sport over the past 70 years after spreading from the Alps. Sometimes it involves jumping off a cliff with skis on. More often it means searching out a novel route down a gnarly steep, or through a breathtaking expanse of mountaintops. Crags and chutes are steps in the journey.
For extreme skiers, there's always a next frontier. It's about seizing opportunity and sampling the challenge.
"When I describe skiing, I describe it with emotion. I'm feeling the external now, and in the internal flow, the state of being aware and in the moment," Egan said.
In 1989, Egan jumped off the Berlin Wall on skis, to the surprise of the East German police standing at the base. At the time, "I didn't understand I was at the crossroads of extreme skiing and world events," he said.
In search of new heights, he climbed 18,500-foot Mount Elbrus in Russia in 1990, a dormant volcano west of the Black Sea — and Europe's highest peak. At that altitude, "You're very aware of your body and the cold," he said. As many as 30 people die each year trying to climb it, he said. Egan was pinned down during a snowstorm there and dug a snow cave in order to survive.
"In the '80s and '90s, when I was jumping off cliffs and skiing the most remote places in the world. I was on a worldwide adventure, and I didn't know when it would stop," said Egan, whose treasure hunt took him to Yugoslavia before that country's civil war, to the Cedar Mountains of Lebanon, and to the border of Iraq and Turkey, where he skied with the Kurds.
Turkey in 1991. Yugoslavia in 1992. Lebanon in 1993.
"Mountain cultures are friendly places around the world. It brought a lot of empathy to me to see the commonality of what skiing provides. The joy, release and escape for so many people, including myself. It had an impact on my life and how I see the world," he said.
He recently skied across the Canadian Arctic for 20 days, camping and living with the Inuit and Native guides.
Outside the rigamarole
"In the world of white, there's not a lot of color. It's all ice and snow," he said. "Being so remote, with the next plane coming in a week to 10 days. The simplicity of living there. Because of the weather conditions, you have to be completely self-sufficient."
Fast and flexible helps. Egan's career exploded when he and his older brother John starred in extreme-skiing movies made by the legendary Warren Miller, which have become cult classics for skiers worldwide. The Egan brothers skied in roughly 17 of them.
"I've been very lucky to make a living in the ski industry since the mid-'80s," said Egan. "These days I'm a coach, a guide and a teacher. I'm a lot of people's ski adviser, where to go, what to use."
When he was 5, Egan and his siblings learned to ski at Blue Hill outside Boston. Now he guides heli-skiers, hosts ski camps and leads adventure tours. But New England and Tenney are home, he said.
"Skiing returns me to a place of my youth," he said. "The older we get, the more we're involved with life and the rigamarole of job, chores and responsibilities. We don't often get to touch that joyful moment that is so releasing.
"When I go to small areas, I find joy. I don't see a lot of conflict. I see kindred spirits. I see people's eyes wider-open. What I teach is how to free yourself from the critical mind. Stop judging yourself and move into observing. Don't let your performance ruin a good day in the mountains."
This summer Egan will venture to the Drakensberg Mountains in South Africa, where the ski season lasts for three weeks. But opportunity still beckons.
"Every place holds adventure," he said. "It's not all about a perfect carved turn. It's about where and when you go and having a strategy. You're unlocking the possibilities. With the nature of skiing and winter sports, there's an endless amount of places you can go around the world. My mission statement is to help others do what I've already done."
