At 81, Gary Way is still skiing more than 100 days a year, skinning uphill, skiing glades, and embracing the challenge of the White Mountains of New Hampshire. He joins Third Quarter Badass to talk about longevity, backcountry skiing, risk, fitness, and why continuing to choose hard things can make life more meaningful.
Gary Way has been skiing Cannon Mountain for more than 65 years, and at 81 he is still going strong. During the 2025–26 season, he logged 111 days on snow, continuing to ski glades, skin uphill, and pursue the kind of terrain and experiences that have defined much of his life.
In this episode, Gary takes us back to his first days on skis as a teenager in New Hampshire, when he learned on wooden skis with metal edges and leather bindings before being taken to the top of Cannon Mountain after only a couple of weeks of practice. That first trip sparked a lifelong passion for skiing.
Gary also explains how he discovered telemark and backcountry skiing in his 40s, why the effort of climbing a mountain can make a single run more satisfying than an entire day of lift-served skiing, and how avalanche training and decades of experience changed the way he evaluates risk. For Gary, getting older has not meant abandoning difficult terrain—it has meant becoming more selective, more knowledgeable, and more deliberate about the risks worth taking.
He shares the habits that have helped him remain active into his 80s, including year-round hiking, regular yoga, daily strength work, staying lean, and maintaining a consistent commitment to movement. He also reflects on the wake-up call he experienced around age 40, when struggling to get up while water skiing made him realize he could no longer take physical capability for granted.
The conversation also explores the role of community and trust in backcountry skiing, the special bonds formed through shared challenge, and the satisfaction Gary gets from passing his love of skiing on to his children and grandchildren.
Gary’s story is ultimately about longevity, adaptation, judgment, and continuing to pursue meaningful challenges long after most people would have expected those chapters to close.
Gary Way is 81 years old, has been skiing Cannon Mountain for more than 65 years, and is still putting in more than 100 days on snow each season. In 2025–26, he skied 111 days—and he’s already aiming higher for next year.
Gary first learned to ski as a teenager in New Hampshire on solid-wood skis with metal edges and leather tie-down bindings. After just a couple of weeks practicing in a neighbor’s backyard, he found himself at the top of Cannon Mountain. The experience hooked him for life.
In his mid-40s, Gary took the next step, embracing telemark and backcountry skiing. Over the decades since, he has skinned and skied many of the White Mountains’ classic backcountry lines, completed advanced avalanche training, and developed a deep respect for the judgment, preparation, and teamwork required in consequential terrain. He still skis glades and challenging terrain today, while adapting his approach as experience—and age—have sharpened his understanding of risk.
His longevity isn’t accidental. Gary hikes in the summer, practices yoga almost every day, lifts weights daily, eats well, and believes strongly in staying active year-round. A wake-up call around age 40 convinced him not to take physical capability for granted, and he has approached fitness with intention ever since.
For Gary, skiing is also about something bigger than performance. It is about earning the run, spending time in the mountains, trusting the people beside you, and passing that love of the sport to the next generation. His children and grandchildren ski, one granddaughter competes in alpine racing, and one of his young grandsons has even taken up telemark skiing.
Gary’s story is a reminder that longevity isn’t simply about hanging on to what you once could do. It’s about continuing to move, adapting intelligently, choosing meaningful challenges, and staying connected to the people and pursuits that make you feel alive.