He has a shock of white hair and it's pushed straight back from his brow. His limbs are long and sinewy, and his eyes are as wary and watchful as a wolf's. When I meet him, he's sitting, appropriately, at the bar. It's apres ski at Silver Star, and he's holding his first pint. His shirt is undone well below his chest.
Legend has it the dishwasher at a nearby deli is a real ladies' man.
Dag tells me he's just been asked to climb Mt. Everest. Believable, I think. Dag's probably as fit as he was at 15. He's all mountain and rock and tundra. And he's wild.