“], “filter”: { “nextExceptions”: “img, blockquote, div”, “nextContainsExceptions”: “img, blockquote, a.btn, a.o-button”} }”>
Heading out the door? Read this article on the new Outside+ app available now on iOS devices for members!
>”,”name”:”in-content-cta”,”type”:”link”}}”>Download the app.
When you stare at a massive feature like the Big Couloir at Montana’s Big Sky, you are going to be hit with some feelings. Fear, excitement, and self-doubt are all likely candidates. I certainly felt a hefty dose of all three the first time I peered up at it, wondering if I had the guts to ski it, or if I’d survive a fall.
Watch: See Skiing Legend Dan Egan at Work at His Summit Pursuits Clinic
Little did I know, just three days later, I’d be hooting and giggling like a kid as I danced my way down this iconic line with a grin from ear to ear. I have Dan Egan to thank for that.
For those who don’t know, Dan Egan has been featured in more Warren Miller movies than just about anybody else. He’s been a pro skier since 1988, and was inducted into the Ski and Snowboard Hall of Fame in 2016. He has a long list of gnarly first descents to his name, and he even pioneered a sort of “ski diplomacy,” traveling to politically volatile countries (including an iconic jump off the Berlin Wall) to promote unity among humans.
He also still absolutely rips. A spry 61, I just watched him ski down Big Couloir, live-streaming with a phone in one hand, both poles in the other, gracefully weaving his way down like he was skipping through a field of daisies, not a legendary triple-black run with 1,300 feet of vert at a 50-degree angle.
Related: Big Couloir Isn’t the Only Bucket List Terrain at Big Sky
Egan’s Summit Pursuits Clinic is what you might think of as a “steeps camp,” aimed at advanced-intermediate and advanced skiers and snowboarders. It’s a three-day course, offered exclusively at Big Sky, and includes a welcome breakfast/introduction, three full days of guided skiing with instruction, a catered dinner, access to Lone Peak Tram, and even early-ups for one of the days, which meant we got to put down first track on Big Couloir after it had snowed overnight. In addition to Egan’s, our camp was guided by 20-plus year local Bruce Bristol, a Big Sky luminary in his own right. Experiences like that are exceedingly rare.
What surprised me the most about the clinic, however, was that while there were plenty of drills and talk about technique, the great majority of emphasis is placed on the mental and emotional aspect of skiing. For example, your first few runs of the day you might be cramping up, and you think it’s because you aren’t warmed up yet or you’re out of shape, but more likely than not it’s because you aren’t breathing properly. Learning to relax more and do less, letting go of that “Hungarian death grip on your poles,” as Egan calls it, will open you up to skiing looser, lighter, and freer.
But going deeper than that, Egan’s overarching focus is on “Freeing yourself from the critical mind,” and turning away from judgement—and toward observation. In other words when we beat ourselves up about what we’re doing wrong, we’re not necessarily moving toward the things we’re doing right, and we damn sure aren’t having any fun. It’s like how you’re not supposed to look at an obstacle you’re trying to avoid, or you’ll ski right into it; you want to look at where you want to go.
“Your need to get better is what’s holding you back,” Egan told our group. “Once you let go of that, that’s when you start improving.”
“Man, it’s like skiing with Yoda,” commented one skier from Texas, and it really was. Egan is a master of these arts, and he would drop these koan-like nuggets of wisdom faster than we could write them down. He encouraged us to let go of our gripes about the way we ski (“What you think about your skiing is none of your business”), and he emphasized following the joy rather than some arbitrary quantitative measure (“Don’t let performance get in the way of a good day of skiing”).
In the context of what we were doing, none of these sayings came off as trite. Mixing the mental approach with the physical and knowing that we were working toward skiing some very imposing lines really brought everything into focus, and I could see it changing people in real-time. Our little group of seven started out pretty rigid, intent on gritting our teeth and powering through our early runs, but gradually, as the philosophy started to sink in, I watched these guys open up, skiing lighter and freer, and they were having more fun, too.
Also Read: A Ski Icon Recreates One of Warren Miller’s Most Legendary Scenes—30 Years Later
Of course, there was plenty of technical wisdom dispensed, too. On day one we started with some drills that I thought were surprisingly basic. It all started with cruising down some blue groomers while making big, arcing turns. The emphasis was on standing tall and keeping your weight forward, trusting the sidecut of your skis and letting them do the work for you. After a couple of those, he took us to a mogul field, where the focus turned into keeping those big, arcing turns with all those bumps in the way. Here, Egan showed us how to find the veins, not just the ruts between the moguls, but to see these longer diagonal lines that extend and allow you to open up. Want to make a turn? He pointed out how the uphill side of the mogul is almost always flat (more parallel to the horizon), which is a great place to wipe speed and change direction.
There were more detailed lessons, too, drilling into retracting your skis rather than compressing and the proper timing for sitting into turns but recovering with your weight forward. He also had specific tips for each of us based on what he was seeing. These lessons all built on each other rapidly over the course of the morning, and meant to be applied to the next challenge on the itinerary. For example, how do we apply what we just learned to skiing trees? Well, you can’t fully skid over the top of the bump, because now there’s a tree in the middle of it, but there’s fresh snow in front of it and behind it, so you slow down in front of it, and then turn around it. Now how do you apply this to steeps? Now steeper steeps with rocks and bigger bumps? You get the idea.
Much of what Egan teaches is sort of counter to what you’d likely get in a more traditional clinic. “I think we’ve overtaught carving in this country for 20, 25 years,” Egan had told us on day one. Carving has its place, but for big-mountain skiing, skidding has some amazing advantages, namely stability and keeping your feet beneath you. When your feet are underneath your center of mass, you’re ready for anything that might come at you—not so when you’re in a deep lean. Get comfortable with skidding, Egan and Bristol told us, because there isn’t space enough to make big carving turns in a narrow couloir, and in one as steep and bumpy as the Big, speed management is critical.
On day two, we took all the things we’d learned and applied it to steeper, more critical terrain, which Big Sky has in spades. Much of this day was spent in the zone known as Dictator Chutes, where Egan talked about how steeps exacerbate your mistakes. You can get away with being a little bit in the back seat on a mellow slope, but when the slope is steep, it creates a much sharper angle between the base of your ski and the snow, so suddenly you’re much farther back than you think, and that’s when things can get away from you. The key was not merely to remember the physical techniques when in a high-pressure situation, but finding the same mental space we had when we were gliding down untracked corduroy. At the same time, he was trying to strip away our need to feel like we’re in total control all the time, which he called an illusion. He wanted us to be more comfortable with being uncomfortable. “It should feel wild,” he grinned. “That’s skiing.”
On the second night the group met in a conference room at the Summit Hotel at the (where I was lucky enough to be staying) for a catered dinner and a slideshow. Egan regaled us with stories, photos, and videos from his insane career (Warren Miller’s most-watched clip ever is of a massive cornice breaking away under Egan and his brother, John), steeped us deeper in his philosophy to get us in the right headspace, and finally prepped us for what to expect from Big Couloir in the morning.
Again, he discouraged us from trying to carve it up as if we were in a video part (none of us would have considered that anyway). He said to take a few power slides to get our feet set under us and get a feel for the conditions, then you can start to ski it. You don’t have to do it all at once. Take three or four turns at a time and then reset. It doesn’t have to feel good. In fact, it probably won’t feel good the first time you ski it, and that’s alright.
Big Couloir features a nasty rock right in the center of the chute known as “The Cheese Grater,” right in the first third of the run. “Whenever you’re in a couloir, if there’s an obstacle like a rock or a tree, you want to ski at the obstacle, not in the gully around it,” Dan told us. “You want to drop into that gully at the last possible second. Because if you stay up on that ridge heading toward the obstacle, you’re going to give yourself all of the options available. But if you go in early, 40 or even 15 feet above it, you’re going to end up getting stuck and doing all this nonsense. But if you come in on the ridge, at the obstacle, then it’s just one turn around it, like skiing around a tree. So don’t drop into the choke too early, or you’ll end up sideways and stuck.”
After a somewhat restless night, we set out at first light for early ups. An inch or two of light, cold snow had fallen overnight, and we headed out for a few warm-up laps before they let us take the first tram up to the top of Lone Peak. A couple of the guys decided to opt out, and there was no shame in that. You look into Big Couloir on your way up, and as steep as it looks from the ground, it looks a whole lot scarier up close.
Yet, surprisingly, I found myself excited, eager, even giddy to get in there. I didn’t realize it until that moment, but Dan’s philosophy had made its way into my whole body. I was calm. I was full of joy and wonder.
When my turn to drop came, I thanked Dan, slid in, and just let gravity do its thing while I played in the snow. Was it the prettiest, smoothest run of my life? Hell no. Even in a good year and after a fresh dump of snow, the Big is variable. One turn is powder, and the next is a craggy, broken stick of chalk. Sharks peek out at you on both sides, and so I took my time, and paused to catch my breath, but I had an absolute blast the whole way.
The rest of the day was filled with hitting other lines you’d really want a guide for, including the North Summit Snowfield, Mini Couloir, and others, but I just kept reminiscing about Big Couloir. Glowing about it, really. I’d made it down in one piece and tackled something that, just days before, I wasn’t sure I could do. What’s more, rather than skiing scared, I truly enjoyed the experience. Can’t ask for much more than that.
If You Go…
It’s tough to imagine a better steeps camp than Summit Pursuits. It’s set at a stunning and uncrowded resort with unreal terrain, and it’s taught by one of the living legends of the sport. It’s also wonderfully unconventional. While I hope technical tips and tricks stay with me, I have a strong suspicion that it’s the philosophy that’s going to last much longer. (As Egan told us, “You’re not going to remember what I said, but you’re going to remember how I made you feel.”)
The 2024-’25 season was the clinic’s inaugural year, and Egan hosted two sessions; he’s planning another two for 2025-’26: The tentative dates are Jan. 15-17 and Feb. 10-12. Check here for the most updated information and to sign up. The cost is $1,600 for three days of guiding and instruction, including a welcome breakfast, a farewell dinner, tram access, and one morning of early-ups. Lift tickets and lodging are not included.
