The World's First Professional Ski Bum

This story originally appeared in the print magazine POWDER 2026 Photo Annual. Copies are still available while supplies last. Click here to get yours.

The No-Vision Visionary

Gary Bigham is watching tennis.

After playing phone tag for the better part of spring, I finally caught the self-professed professional ski bum at his chalet in Argentière, the small community nestled at the base of the Grands Montets just up valley from Chamonix. It’s a few weeks after his 73rd birthday. Wimbledon is on, and we chat tennis for the better part of 15 minutes. I couldn’t profess to know the difference between an ace and an advantage, but the way Bigham talks about it makes me feel like a years-long fan. I’ve been trying to reach the legendary documentarian of ski bum lore to talk about his newly released photo archive for weeks, but I should have known that’s the last thing he’d want to talk about. I was there to cover the legendary documentarian of ski bum lore’s newly released photo archive. But I should have known that’s the last thing he’d want to talk about. Instead, he just wants to shoot the shit.

When I think of classic ski movies—the ones with really good skiing, and a little bit of edge—Bigham’s short films are among the first that come to mind. Back in 1975, he moved to the Alps to live the ski bum lifestyle. He fell in love—with the place, with a few women, but most of all with the way skiing kept his life exciting, and him and his wild cast of friends feeling young. 

“I came to Europe in ’73 as a hotdog skier,” Bigham reminisces, “but when people stopped taking pictures of me, I started taking pictures of my friends.” Bigham’s father was a photographer, so he knew his way around cameras from an early age, especially the now-classic Bolex 16mm video camera that he used to shoot his first films.

Bigham laughs as he thinks about returning to the states during the summer and learning how to splice and edit 16mm film in a friend’s Detroit studio. After making a few shorts starring his friends around Europe, he figured he could make better money working for a real production, so Bigham approached Warren Miller, who recognized his talent and hired him for a few films throughout the early 1980s. “I took Warren on the Grands Montets, and we skied into the Lavancher bowl, and it socks right in,” he says, thinking back fondly. “I turned around to see Warren grinning, and he tells me, ’I hope my son is having as much fun when he’s as old as me as I am having right now with you.’” 

That well-trained eye for capturing unique moments soon led Bigham to wilder and wilder places, including a ski trip to apartheid-era South Africa that turned into anything but. In 1982, Bigham called up his close friend Ace Kvale to join him in Durban for a freestyle ski demo at a military parade. The two were flown to Africa on business-class tickets, showing up with long blonde hair, matching that of Bigham’s Swedish girlfriend, who joined them under the guise of being a Swedish national freestyle champion. 

“She could barely ski at all, so she faked a leg injury the whole time!” he laughs. All the boys had to do was ski down a fake snow ramp and do a few frontflips for the cheering crowd to earn their keep and embark on the trip of a lifetime courtesy of the tourism association. “The whole time, people thought we were ABBA,” Kvale remembers. 

It was yet another perfect example of Bigham using his cunning creativity, infectiously warm personality, and unique skill set to combine work and play in a way only a ski bum would know how to.

Bigham first crossed paths with POWDER Magazine a few years later while hanging out at the newly-opened Woody Creek Tavern outside Aspen, the preferred watering hole of Hunter S. Thompson. He had just released Life’s a Beach In The Alps, and got to talking with POWDER co-founder David Moe about making a Captain Powder movie. 

The rest is history, as the two cavorted around the West and across the pond with a cast of characters that included Glen Plake, John Falkiner, and John Egan. Moe appeared in front of the camera in his all-white army suit and field glasses as Captain Powder, defender of winter, fighting the forces of summer.

Watch I Rather Be Skiing Than Happy With You, starring Captain Powder, and you’ll understand.

After another good laugh, Bigham finally gets to talking about the archive he and his daughter Guri have been putting together of his life’s work: a collection of iconic images that defined multiple eras of skiing. (You can find it at thegarybighamarchive.com).

There’s Moe dressed as Lamb Chop Dag, the world’s fastest sheep skier. There’s the image of an infant (Guri) on the baby’s shelf of Telluride’s town free rack. There are countless images of neon-clad monoskiers and then-unknown-but-now-famed French extreme skiers like Patrick Vallencent. “Guri just dug all this stuff out of the house, and said ‘you gotta do something with this!’” he says. “I’m just useless at paperwork or this office stuff, or making money, really. I cook. I clean. I go skiing.” 

Does he have a vision for it all, I ask? “I got no vision!” But better than an overall vision, each image has a long story behind it, that Bigham happily shares.

These days, Bigham’s life hasn’t changed much. Fifty-one years after moving to Chamonix, he still skis nearly every day at Les Grands Montets. He’s still in absolute awe of the mountains that have defined his career and tower above him and his Argentière chalet.

“Powder is for pussies, it’s overrated,” he jests. Instead, he’s usually out ripping the oh-so-smooth windbuff the resort is known for. “I can still ski fast in it!”

This story originally appeared in the print magazine POWDER 2026 Photo Annual. Copies are still available while supplies last. Click here to get yours.

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