On March 22nd 2021, Gary Smith tragically died in an avalanche outside of Beaver Creek Resort in Colorado. Since 2018, Gary has been a frequent and insightful contributor to WildSnow. From Christmas Eve spent at the Wildsnow Field HQ cabin, to testing gear and sharing his love for steep skiing around the world, he was a pillar of the ski touring community and will be greatly missed.
As we rolled into the town of Nevados de Chillan, snow violently piled up on the sides of the road but barely stuck to the wet, warm pavement. The bald tires of our rental Peugeot, affectionately dubbed the Lion Car, swerved across it. It had been a long day: Flight from Denver to Houston followed by a red eye into Santiago and then a six-hour drive to the mountain. But with two meters of snow forecasted for the next two days, we had little choice but to get there. We stuffed our faces with pizza and Malbec and piled into a freezing cold hostel room to bed down for the night.
Gary Smith was our guide and the driving force for a trip to South America after he’d fallen in love with the Southern Hemisphere the summer before. With myself and Brian Zigulich, the three of us made it a perfect 100% attendance from the Vail Cripple Creek Backcountry staff, finally embarking on the trip we planned for so long. We had gathered the funds from a tip jar with a hand written note “Chile Fund” that was just too endearing for customers to pass up. The three of us had become close friends, skiing early mornings before work and often crashing in the office above the shop to be first out the next day.
Finally, dawn came to Nevados de Chillan and we awoke to find all lifts and mountain operations closed because of too much snow. Unwilling to be deterred, we slapped skins to our skis and began breaking trail through a meter of wet heavy fluff while more giant flakes soaked through our clothes. After one run of little more than 1500 feet of vert that was barely steep enough to turn on, we staggered, soaking wet, back to town. In the hostel, we huddled around the lone fireplace as acrid wood smoke saturated our ski clothes, along with that of every other skier around. That one smokey fireplace was the only source of heat or drying power.
Wet weather followed us for most of our trip through Chile and Argentina, but Gary’s absolute love for skiing pushed us out day after day. In Pucon we awoke to our 4 a.m. alarm clock and rain pattering on the roof. Brian and I were completely willing to call it our third consecutive weather rest day, but Gary had us load into the Lion Car to begin the long road climb to the parking lot of Volcan Villarica. We made it a few miles, hit a patch of ice impassible for our sad tires, abandoned the Lion Car and hitched a ride in utter darkness in the back of a pickup truck. This determination gave way to one of the most special days I have ever had in the mountains. An inversion thrust us above the clouds and a perfect coating of snow had fallen straight down all the way to the active crater that was the summit. After staring into the winding gyre of sulfuric steam and catching occasional glimpses of lava bubbling up (luckily Gary had the beta of where to rent gas masks in Pucon) we started a 6000+ foot descent of warm powder to the tiny ski resort that flanked the mountain.
Although the active volcano was unique, the ubiquitous excitement of local ramshackled skiers unceremoniously cradling their skis in their arms like firewood and trudging uphill was most memorable. We wove through a crowd of Chileans just discovering slipping on snow for the first time. Many were earning their turns by boot packing up the run and forgoing the chair lift, all smiles and laughter.
I watched this incredible dichotomy unfold countless times over my privileged four years working alongside Gary in Colorado. Gary was in the running for strongest and most confident ski partners I ever had, certainly the top of the list despite having been born and raised in Texas. With a foundation of technical prowess and aggressive style, he still always had time for the first-time ski tourer that came into the shop. The quiet intensity smoldering underneath the surface was always outwardly conveyed through sincerity and warmth. He had an intuitive love for gear and was instrumental in growing ski touring in the Vail valley.
He was also instrumental with the passing of the WildSnow torch from Lou to the next generation. His observations of the industry as a whole were imperative to my own confidence in taking on new projects and his excitement for the sport was undeniably contagious as we planned new posts and trips. As he continued to push his own levels of steep skiing, I started to hang back, but his storytelling ability brought me along on adventures that I couldn’t be there with him for. His incredibly successful trip to Denali and our conversations after stand out.
There are dozens of other contributions he has made to the site and I am glad that we did three very special podcasts together. His tragic passing in his own backyard of Beaver Creek came far too soon and is truly devastating to the WildSnow and Cripple Creek family. All we can do now is share his stories and continue to honor his memory.
Looking back through the years, I remember the final day of our South American trip, pushing stubbornly ahead together through the pain and weariness of a long journey. We climbed to one last volcanic summit of Llaima, before high fiving and simul skiing epic steep corn through thousands of vertical feet of brisk Andes air. This one we had barely pulled off, rolling into town late the night before, out of cash and out of gas. Gary haggled with our last fistful of pesos to get us a room and just enough bread and cheese for the long tour. In 19 days we had toured three days in Chillan, skied four major volcanoes, spent seven days hut skiing in Argentina sharing countless laughs, beers and games of rummy. We had driven almost 2000 miles, had the back window of the Lion Car smashed out and were limping the final miles to Santiago. Too tired to talk with sad news awaiting us back home, at least we knew we had rung out every drop of energy we had to give to one ski vacation.
But, if I could do it all over again, I would have toughened up for just one more of those soggy mornings to put boots on with Gary and head uphill. Because I know he had the stoke and the energy to always ski another day.
26 comments
RIP Gary
-Kristian
Truly will miss Gary, his contributions to this site, furthering backcountry ski stoke, and the Cripple Creek shops. Wish we could have shared a few more turns together. RIP
Pretty heavy stuff. I listened to the Chilgentina podcast episodes. Seemed like a really great guy and friend. RIP
Great piece Doug.
Gary will definitely be missed.
RIP Gary and my condolences to all who knew him. I didn’t know him but a few years ago he sold me my La Sportiva boots that are by far the best skiing AT boots I’ve ever owned.
Although I never met Gary, it felt like I knew him through his writing here on Wild Snow. Once I read that when a great hitter comes to the plate, the other players take particular note. For me, that’s how it was with Gary’s writing. The authenticity, credibility, and stoke came through with each review. What I especially liked was the way he would respond to reader comments, always showing humility and putting folks at ease. He must have been a pure joy to tour with. I cannot imagine the grief those of you who actually knew Gary must feel. My thoughts and prayers go out to you and his family.
Thank you for this piece Doug. Nate and I took a lap for Gary yesterday. RIP.
Nice job on this Doug, rest in peace Gary. After he stayed at the cabin — which I gathered was a time of introspection — as a thanks he gave me a copy of bush pilot Don Sheldon’s biography. He left a lengthy inscription on the opening page, soulful words that showed his appreciation of the ski alpinism culture he was part of. I pulled the book off the shelf yesterday. As I read his words, all I could think was that he died too young, but that he indeed was a shining light. Lou
Here’s to Gary Allen Smith: a hell of a skier, a stand up human being and someone who will be remembered by many.
I’m not even sure what to say. I enjoyed Gary’s writing and appreciated how he always followed up on comments quickly and genuinely. In the days ahead hold onto the memories tightly, lean into each other for strength, and don’t be afraid to let the pain of your loss change you. God bless.
The passion he showed for skiing was always present in his friendships back home as well. He has been great friends with me and all of us in our group since elementary. I had the privilege of going to college and with live with him for a bit after high school and witnessed firsthand when his passion for skiing started to develop. We would take spring semesters off to go to the great CO and return with stories of glory. Even after moving to CO full time he would always come home to visit us and there was never a time when Gary was unwilling to help in tough times. He was the first one in this group to come visit my newborn (in Dallas) on his way back up to CO. That was the type of guy he was. He was in almost all of our weddings in some compacity and held a high position in all our hearts.
He was truly an amazing person and based on your descriptions of him it sounds like you knew him well. I cannot tell you how much this tribute means to us back home and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for spending time to post this. You are always welcome in Austin (I’m in Dallas) for a beer, and I would love to be regaled by more stories of our good friend Gary.
Sad to see this. I always enjoyed Gary’s contributions to WildSnow. I didn’t know him personally but always considered him a kindred spirit. RIP
RIP Gary. We had a brief interaction when I bought his Volkl BMT bc setup back in the day, in the Cripple Creek shop. He was really nice, chill, and humble. Adjusted the bindings for me. I’ll never walking out of the shop and he casually goes, “Have fun man. Those skis have been all over the world.”
Gary inspired so many simply by the way he lived his life. Always willing to put in the hard work for the reward. He was a role model & someone I considered family. He will live on through the stories and the lessons he taught all of us.
The South America Trip was all Gary’s idea. Down days at the Vail shop that first season were spent researching volcanoes in Chile and potential huts to stay at in Argentina. Gary had done a similar trip down south the year prior on a solo mission. His reason for wanting to go back was “I know the places to go, I just need a crew.” I am forever grateful Doug & I said yes to going. It was Gary’s dream South American ski trip, one I will never forget.
Thanks for taking us along for the ride Gary. I’ll see you in the mountains.
vibes to the author and all those close to gary. rip.
Lou,
Where did Gary ski patrol? Do you know?
Thanks so much for this beautiful piece, Doug!
Gary was easily one of the best people I’ve ever met, Im happy to have had him in a short list exceptionally amazing friends. Losing him has shaken many people in this town and beyond.
Hold those you love close.
Rest easy, my friend.
Hacksaw: Vail ski patrol 2010-13.
So sad. Sorry to all of those that were close to him.
RIP Gary.
So much love and pain here. A testimony to a great person. All I can say is, when somebody passes away, they remain alive, in our memories, in our minds. The close friends I have who passed away, they live in my thoughts. I speak to one of my friends, Sasha, weekly, sometimes daily, conversations, ideas, remembering things, smiling to myself, wondering how they would feel about something, what they would say…knowing what they would feel and say! We continue to share moments in life. I didn’t know Gary, but I think he will live, in the minds and thoughts of many people, for many years. That’s what we have and share.
Doug and Wildsnow Crew, that’s a beautiful story. So sorry for your loss.
Thank you so much for this beautiful piece. I got to know Gary pretty well while living in Vail. We were both from Austin and had that similar connection… Texan by birth, but high mountain streams flowed in our blood and pulled us like magnets to Colorado. We were both part of a large group of friends that would take an annual, 10 day trip to Lake Powell. Some of my fondest, and funniest, memories are of Gary. I’ll never forget the time he set up a tent, but hadn’t secured it to the ground yet when a strong wind came. The gust carried the fully set up tent up a slope, to the ridge line, where it then took flight and and floated 20 feet in the air, not wanting to come back to earth. All the while, Gary was trying to chase it down, running and zig-zagging as fast as he could. I still regularly replay that memory in my head. Somehow the Benny Hill theme music plays along with it and always makes me smile. He was a bright and shining light and his loss is heartbreaking. I am now living back in Austin and would welcome the opportunity to have a beer/bike/meet-up/etc. with any of his friends in the area. RIP Gary, you will be missed.
Didn’t know this fellow, but enjoyed a few of his posts. I am sorry to see this loss. This winter-spring overlap period can be a dangerous time in the mountains.
Also, this is a nice tribute piece. Apologies if my first comment was insensitive!
“two meters” zowee metric
Doug, what an excellent and accurate tribute to Gary. Thank you.
A couple weeks ago Gary and I ended up in the Arrowhead parking lot at the same time ready for some exercise. Joe and Caroline were there with him and raring to head uphill. It was warm and we all caught up on the ski season, as crazy as it has been. I suggested that we forgo the groomers and head into the woods picking up the Village to Village and Arrowhead Mtn. trails. In Gary’s usual selfless style he started breaking trail, cutting out all the switchbacks, talking thoughtfully about gear and the world in general. Keep in mind he could take off and leave us at any time. Instead, he plotted along at a pace that worked for everyone, creating his own trail and an adventure for the rest of us. What could have been a 45 minute uphill race became a 2 hour memory. One I will never forget. Not because it was such an extraordinary adventure, but because of the great company and conversation.
I will miss you. RIP GAS
I love you Gary, I miss you so much.
Thanks Doug