I met Shane through my brother. Shane was delivering pizzas in Boulder and he happened to deliver to my brother’s house and saw a bunch of skis against the wall and asked, “Hey, are you guys a bunch of skiers? Well, we’ve got a movie premiere coming up if you guys want to swing by.” It was funny, this pizza delivery guy saying he was in this movie. We went to the premiere for Ski Theater and were blown away with his skiing. The hippie Domino’s guy ripped.

We hung out a lot the first couple years. I moved in with him in 1997 and lived with him for the next four years. He hated when he had to up the rent on me. One of his worst moments was when he had to kick me out of his house because he wanted his future wife to move in. It was one of the most uncomfortable positions I’ve ever seen him in. Just stumbling over it, telling me his girlfriend was moving in and they wanted the house.

One of the fi rst things I wondered when he moved back to Squaw was how he was going to affect the place. When he came here, his presence was felt immediately. Shane changed the game. When he skied, people watched. He wasn’t a guy who commanded attention, but he liked doing stuff that entertained. He had two different switches. He could be a super-chill guy and very unimposing. But he could flip the switch and turn into a superhero in a moment. If there was a dull moment, he’d turn it right around.

Shane bridged the gap between the extreme skiing era and when the New Canadian Air Force arrived. That was a whole era when snowboarding was gaining more interest than skiing, and Shane was largely responsible for keeping skiing alive during that period. He was the number one presence. He made it look fun and exciting when so many kids were turning to snowboarding. In 1996 he got on fat skis and that started changing the entire game.

Working with Shane was an incredible experience. He was the mix of pure focus and pure fun. He was never the guy that got pissed, either. Never chucking his goggles or breaking his poles. He’d just go back up and re-do it. What people saw of Shane in movies was not an act. Shane was a funny guy a hell of a lot of the time, and really passionate about what he did. The Saucer Boy character was the antithesis of Shane. Saucer Boy was a loud, smack talking guy. The kind of guy you hate, the guy you can’t stand, taken to anew level.

“SHANE BRIDGED THE GAP BETWEEN THE EXTREME SKIING ERA ANDWHEN THE NEW CANADIAN AIR FORCE ARRIVED. THAT WAS A WHOLE ERAWHEN SNOWBOARDING WAS GAINING MORE INTEREST THAN SKIING, ANDSHANE WAS LARGELY RESPONSIBLE FOR KEEPING SKIING ALIVE DURINGTHAT PERIOD. HE MADE IT LOOK FUN AND EXCITING WHEN SO MANY KIDSWERE TURNING TO SNOWBOARDING.”

I always knew what he was doing was incredibly dangerous and always pictured that call coming. But he just seemed so on top of it, it seemed like it would never happen. To have an absolute superstar of a sport die… it’d belike hearing Kelly Slater died. These people seem invincible, but they are not.

I was standing back to back with legendary climber and Patagonia-founder, Yvon Chouinard, at the Banff Film Festival. He’s a pretty old guy. Then this 60-year-old lady came up and said to him, “If you’re going to see one movie here, you have to see There’s Something AboutMcConkey.” I thought that was pretty funny. Here was this ridiculous movie we made and this elderly lady telling Yvon Chouinard that he has to go see it. And that was just Shane’s infectious spirit — in that movie and everything he did — that made people smile.

When you’re so close to someone, you tend to lose sight of that person’s place in the bigger picture. I knew some perceived Shane as Superman, but I simply saw him as super person. But shortly after he died, it occurred to me that not only had I lost my best friend, but, like so many other people out there, I had also lost my hero. I don’t think there was anyone more loved in the whole ski world than he was.

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