Skiing in Big Sky, Montana

It's not everyday that your son gets stuck on a snowcat ladder while asleep but it happened to us last week in Montana.  This incident was several years in the making.

Teaching young kids to ski is not for the faint hearted - much schlepping is involved. On with the long johns, the layers, the snow bibs, hat, mittens, goggles, helmet and the dreaded ski boots, you finally step outside and, " I have to pee". So back inside, do it all in reverse then start over again. Do a run or two on the bunny slope then back inside for cocoa. A parents' best friend with a toddler on the slope is a packet of Skittles or jelly beans; we've found a sugar high is critical in this learning stage.  But the payoff for all this effort is huge, and one day, they are schlepping their own gear, putting on their own boots and you are following them down the mountain. This winter we are at that stage with both our kids so we decided they were ready to ski out West. Skittles in hand, we headed to Big Sky Montana.

We had flown out for the extra long MLK break and arrived to gorgeous blue skies.  Bighorn sheep perched on rocky slopes as we drove up the canyon from Bozeman. Our destination was the Summit Hotel at Big Sky. A wonderful, friendly place to spend the next 5 days, about 20 paces from the chairlifts. Big Sky recently bought adjacent Moonlight Basin, and is now the biggest ski resort in the United States, having stolen the title long held by Vail, Colorado.  The vibe is 180 degrees from Vail however, and that's  a good thing.  No fur coats and face lifts here, just really friendly people that love to ski and love their state. 

We met so many transplants here too, people that had moved to Montana decades ago and just never left.  It's an outdoor lovers paradise.  In fact, that's one of the things that brought my grandparents to Butte, Montana back in the 60's, my Grandpa Tom was an avid hunter and fisherman.  On this trip, I had come full circle - bringing my kids back to the place where I first learned to ski when I was 12.  I still feel bad for my very patient Aunt Rita, and my understandably antsy Uncle 'Eddie' who took me skiing for the first time.  I spent half the day trying to make my way down a slope slightly higher then a 3 story building.  I was too old for Skittles and cried the whole way down; I cringe thinking of it.  This is the real reason we started our kids skiing at 3 and 5; 12 year olds have too much attitude!

Fortunately things went much better with our brood.  The slopes were plentiful, the runs were varied for all levels, both groomed and ungroomed. There were several trick parks where Emily practiced jumps and Michael practiced peeing in the trees.   We took the tram up to the top of Lone Peak and had such clear skies we could even see the Grand Tetons of Wyoming over 200 miles away.  You can actually ski down from the tram.  However, once the guide told me not to attempt this without knowledge of self arrest techniques, I was quickly back on the tram for my trip down the mountain, doing the walk of shame past the queue of expert skiers as I disembarked at the bottom.

Big Sky is definitely my top U.S. ski destination so far. The slopes, the access to base camp, the restaurants, and the vibe all make this a perfect family destination. But the best thing? No lift lines! It was amazing and something you would never encounter skiing on the East Coast on MLK weekend. 

After 5 beautiful 'bluebird' days we decided to celebrate our last night with something special, a Montana Dinner Yurt - which brings us back to that cold winter night with Michael asleep hanging from the Snowcat. 

We climbed in the Snowcat our last evening, winding upwards through the woods to a yurt near the top of the mountain.  After 20 minutes of picturesque and occasionally nerve wracking climbing, we arrived. We had hot soup then went outside to the torch lit sledding hill. Due to the lack of fresh powder, it was much closer to skeleton or luge rather than any sledding I've done before.  You slid down the icy road left by the Snowcat and slammed into a snow berm at the first hairpin turn. Slammed into it I should say if you were lucky, one couple actually launched over the berm into about a 15 foot drop through some pine trees. Amazingly they all walked out.  After a fun filled hour watching various people get injured as they smashed into the berm and playing in the snow, we headed back inside the yurt for delicious grilled steak and chocolate fondue. 

On the way home, we climbed up a steep 10 foot ladder to the roof of the Snowcat, where we got comfy with pillows and blankets. For me, this was the best part of a very fun night, like a hay ride with snow. As we rode our way back down the mountain, under the vividly starlit sky, a coyote in a nearby clearing stopped and watched us, then meandered on its' way.

The ride was a little bumpy and it was very late so Michael had, true to form, totally passed out on the drive down the mountain. We couldn't wake him up to climb back down the ladder so I stood on the Snowcat treads while Jeff hung Michael over the roof. I was finally able to grab him around the waist and pulled, but to no avail.  I tugged, then tugged some more, assuming he had woken up and was grabbing the ladder with his hands, " Let go Michael, you've got to let go." I said as I kept tugging, my view obscured by his butt in my face.  Two other Dads then jumped in, " His coat is stuck on the ladder, I'll get it loose". They got him loose and helped me hand a jostled but still sleeping Michael back down to the ground and the end of our Big Sky adventure.