Skiing Big Sky: The Last Best Place

Story and Photos by Liz Easterly

Lone Mountain looms above the Big Sky valley like the Matterhorn: a lone sentinal, a perfectly awe-inspiring peak. After 18 inches of snow in 48 hours, the mountain is absolutely pristine. The avalanche cannons boom, echoing around the valley, as we park within walking distance of the lifts.

Under the famously brilliant blue Montana sky, I join the “Masters of the Mountain” ski class at Big Sky ski resort. For me, it's a refresher course after a few years of sporadic skiing. For my other five companions, all locals, it's a weekly get-together. Roger is our teacher and guide.

The ski resort at Big Sky boasts more than 3600 acres, with 150 named runs on three mountains. The runs are endless, and you can find every kind of terrain imaginable.

The goal of the Masters of the Mountain is to get us comfortable with every type of terrain on the mountain --- presumably that would eventually include the back bowls at the summit of Lone Mountain. The back bowls and the South Face are epic – the type of extreme skiing runs that you see on a Warren Miller flick, and only accessible by the 15-person tram. To take any of these runs, you must sign out with the ski patrol. You are required to ski with a partner, and carry beacons and shovels.

Roger watches us all ski down to him, assessing our styles.

“How about a run of synchronized skiing? We all spread out and ski at the same time. When I turn, we all turn. Just watch my pole to see when.”

It's harder than it sounds, even though he is making slow, gently rounded turns. If one person gets off, it screws everyone up because you start running into each other.

The point, of course, is to keep all eyes down the hill, on Roger's poles, and not at the ground immediately in front of us. Point well taken.

We take a couple of thigh-burning groomers, then hit some wonderful untracked powder, then attacked some moguls. Then we move into some glade skiing in the powder. Not once do we encounter a lift line, not even at the bottom of the mountain.

When the lift drops us off at the bottom of the South Wall --- at most ski areas, this would be the summit --- I literally gasp at the terrain above us. The wind blows great plumes of snow off of the 11,166 foot summit of Lone Mountain. The Lone Peak Tram crawls up an impossibly steep slope. The Big Couloir ---- a 50 degree slope, 2000 feet long ---- and the Gullies have a few brave souls racing down their slopes.

We're not heading up there, but Roger nevertheless demonstrates the self-arrest: the technique a skier uses to stop a tumbling fall down these incredibly steep runs. Weekly, Roger tells us, there are serious injuries suffered on the top of the mountain; occasionally, these result in death.

When you fall on a steep run like that, he explains, you usually fall at the point of lowest velocity; but once in motion, your body propels itself down the mountain, gaining momentum and speed, for nearly a mile straight down before you'll crash to a rest. The natural impulse is to try to dig your heels in. Which works, but then the rest of your body continues its momentum and you'll start to tumble, somersaulting down the mountain. The next impulse is to protect yourself, pulling your arms and head and legs in. This only turns you into a cannonball.

No, the self-arrest technique goes completely against your natural instinct. It's all about making yourself as big as possible, spread-eagle. Try to dig your elbows in. If that doesn't work, grab your pole and use it like a pickaxe, digging into the snow.

I am sufficiently in awe of this mountain now. Our final run lasts forever --- blacks, blues, greens, endless runs down the mountain. I'm trying to use my yoga mind to keep the weight in the balls of my feet, my hands holding my poles out in front, and use my belly button as a searchlight, pointed straight down the mountain. It's not until we're on an untracked powder run that it all comes together, and even though every muscle in my legs is on fire, I don't want to stop, for I might never get it all to come together again.

I want to tell the world about this awesome mountain, but I'm torn, for this truly does seem like the last, best place. The locals joke that I'm now sworn to secrecy; we want to keep Big Sky small and secret.

IF YOU GO

Getting there: Daily flights into Bozeman, Montana. From there, you'll either rent a car or arrange a shuttle to Big Sky.

Lodging deals, transportation information, lift ticket packages and more can be found at: www.bigskyresort.com.