Montana’s Big Mountain Lives Up to Its Name

When a ski town has moose roaming the streets, a grizzly bear colony nearby, a huge but virtually unknown ski resort that boldly calls itself The Big Mountain and a local saloon featuring mouse races as the hot Saturday night event, there is a legend in the making. So I figured I owed it to myself to get here to investigate.

Whitefish has been known to tourists for years as one of the gateways to Glacier National Park, which is home to about 250 grizzly bears. I had heard about the grizzlies, but until last year I had barely heard of Whitefish’s entry in the major ski area sweepstakes, The Big Mountain.

I approached Whitefish and The Big Mountain last winter with some curiosity and not a little skepticism. As a veteran of almost every major resort in Colorado and Utah, I know the Rockies have lots of big ski hills, but not many are in Montana. Indeed, the only “big” one I had been to was Big Sky, best known to outsiders visiting the state but also among the most disappointing.

If Whitefish’s version was really “big” in the way skiers think of Jackson Hole, Snowbird or Taos as big, it would have to be imposing. Did it really have a lot of acreage and several thousand feet of vertical, as well as plenty of truly tough runs, the kind you can brag about over dinner once you get back to the flatlands? Besides, if it was indeed a major mountain, how come it took so long for word about it to spread?

The answer to the second question turned out to be easy. Big Mountain--which opened for skiing on Thanksgiving Day--is a million miles from nowhere, practically in Canada, within the splendid wilderness of the northwestern corner of Montana near Flathead Lake. Although this is the resort’s 44th season and it claims more annual skiers than Telluride or Jackson Hole, even public relations manager Lisa Jones characterizes the mountain as something of a well-kept secret. It has a lot of repeat customers, she says, and more come from the middle of the country than from either coast. The closest airport is outside Kalispell, 20 miles from the base of the ski resort.

The answer to the first question was a bit more complicated. Yes, it has a huge amount of acreage (the official guide says 4,040 acres, which is almost twice that of Utah’s Snowbird), a very respectable 2,200-foot rise from bottom to top and some seriously expert runs.

However, much of the advanced level “slopes” are simply chunks of the area that look as if they are out of bounds but are not. The resort has 50 marked trails, but the greatest challenges lie in the huge, wide-open spaces where anyone can make tracks, if he or she dares. It helps to have an instructor along as a guide.

Thus, it is not a sanitized, groomed-to-the-max playground such as Deer Valley, next to Park City in Utah, or a well-marked, defined hill with famous tough runs like Taos. The Big Mountain is a rugged mass of gorgeous alpine snowfields that welcome adventurous nomads in search of new thrills. It ain’t fancy and it can be expensive to fly to, but once you are there, food, lodging and skiing is cheap by Colorado or Utah standards. Words such as hearty , hospitable and hulking come to mind.

In other words, The Big Mountain is sort of like Montana itself.

The best description I have heard of The Big Mountain is “an intermediate Jackson Hole.” Like the Hole, it is a vast skiing landscape at the base of which are only a few lodges and restaurants, with an atmospheric “real” Western town a few miles down the road for additional accommodations, night life and good meals. Whitefish is less touristy and just as charming as Jackson, and like that Wyoming burg it has become accustomed to outsiders because so many visitors come through en route to a national park.

It was evening by the time my plane landed in Kalispell, by way of Salt Lake City. A courtesy van from Grouse Mountain Lodge--a very comfortable modern hotel outside Whitefish that is deluxe by Montana standards--was waiting for me.

The next morning, as the van took me to the mountain, half an hour’s drive up from the Whitefish Valley floor, someone noted that there had been “an unusual number of moose on the streets” of Whitefish lately. That was when I knew I was in Montana for sure. Every Western town has deer tromping through stop signs these days. Moose have much more cachet. “Oh, lots of skiers see moose on some of the quieter trails,” Mark Williams, the ski school director, assured me.

I followed Mark, who had agreed to show me around, to the Glacier Chaser, the only high-speed quad chairlift in the entire state. It was a perfect day, with bright sun, a cornflower blue sky and tons of freshly fallen snow. As the chair approached the summit, it passed some of the oddest natural ice sculptures I have ever seen in skiing--trees covered with compacted snow that had been whipped into strange formations by the winds. The locals call them “snow ghosts.” Moose and now snow ghosts. Well, kiddo, you’re definitely not in Colorado, I thought to myself.

From the summit of the quad, skiers can head down either the front side or the back side of the mountain. They are like two mountains for the price of one. The back, or north side, consists mostly of long, groomed intermediate runs, with a couple of tight black diamond chutes in the middle. It is served by one double chair and on this, a warm day, it was the perfect cruising area.

The front side, on the other hand, has plenty of everything. The main route down to the base begins with Ptarmigan Bowl, an open bowl with a groomed trail surrounded by inviting ungroomed alternatives. Off to another side are wild cliffs, powder-laden forests and the usual assortment of novice, intermediate and advanced runs. As we took a warm-up run down a novice trail, Easy Street, Mark pointed to what looked like a dense woodland where moose would be very much at home. “That’s all skiable, all in bounds,” he explained.

A section called Movie Land, which is not on the official trail map, is only one of the enormous, often untracked powder areas where you make your way through tight trees worthy of Colorado’s Steamboat and other legendary tree-skiing paradises. Then there’s Good Medicine, another sprawling patch of real estate west of the quad chair, where you can zigzag through trees or explore steeps, all without very much human company.

The Big Mountain, I decided that first morning, was not merely big, it was so uncrowded one might nickname it “Empty Mountain.” Yet conditions were classically Western--light fluffy snow, sparkling light. There was also a distinct aspect to the ski wear on the mountain’s hard-core regulars. Called “bun-warmers,” they are somewhat silly looking flaps worn over one’s ski suit like aprons turned the wrong way. They are designed (and manufactured by a local company) to keep your rear warm and dry while riding the chairs.

After Mark went back to his duties, I explored the easier regions and the beginning teaching slopes by myself. Relatively far west of the main mountain served by the Glacier Chaser are two incredibly spacious separate sections that are perfect for learners, timid skiers or just those who want an easy, enjoyable few hours. A chair appropriately called Tenderfoot serves the easiest section, while another called Hellroaring is the main transportation for the wide intermediate boulevards such as Hibernation. This part of the mountain is also lighted for night skiing.

The next morning, I joined several other out-of-staters for breakfast at a Whitefish institution, the Buffalo Cafe. It lived up to its billing as a true-West place, where everyone--ranchers and bankers, ski bums and Eastern rubes alike--stops by, either for a cup of remarkably aromatic coffee (it comes from a well-known coffee bean shop in Whitefish) or a major league breakfast at rookie league prices. The Buffalo Pie, for example, is a stack of ham, hash brown potatoes and cheese topped by a pair of poached eggs, all for $3.75.

Fortified by such a meal, I was ready for a big day on Big Mountain. I had one, but it would be hard to describe because the whole place was fogged in.

Still, we had a good time, although the long, cold chair ride on the backside of the mountain made me yearn for a nice enclosed gondola. The day before, I found that the cafeteria at the mountain’s summit had good, inexpensive sandwiches for lunch. This time, I enjoyed a good burger amid an appropriately rustic interior at the Bierstube, a barnlike eatery at the base village that serves as a dance hall at night. The base village itself is not much more than a handful of lodges, condos, rental shops and restaurants. The most promising place to stay is the Kandahar, a lodge with an inviting large fireplace and comfy couches in the lobby.

The big letdown of my weekend-long trip was the mouse races. There are several semi-rowdy bars in which to pass a few hours in Whitefish on Saturday night. Unfortunately, the Palace, where the mouse races take place, had air so smoky and music so loud that we old fogies left before the mouse races got underway at 11 p.m.

Before leaving the region, a friend and I did visit grizzly country. The West Glacier entrance to the national park is less than an hour’s drive from Whitefish and worth every minute.

When we arrived, cross-country skiers had parked half a dozen cars at the head of what looked like a quiet, stunning cross-country skiing loop called Sacred Dancing Cascade. It begins a short drive from the edge of Lake McDonald, where a vista of mountain peaks forms a spectacular backdrop. According to the ranger on duty, the grizzlies are not likely to come out of hibernation until spring. On the other hand, black bears are occasionally seen by cross-country skiers early in the winter season.

Whitefish, I decided, was not quite the equal of Jackson in the category of legendary Western towns, but it certainly has great potential. I vowed to return some day, and to bring my skis for a day in Glacier Park. I did not vow to return to the mouse races. After all, that’s one species of wildlife I can find all too easily back home.

GUIDEBOOK: The Big Mountain, Montana

Getting there: Delta and Horizon Air fly into Kalispell’s Glacier Park International Airport from Salt Lake City and Spokane, Wash. Car rentals are available at the airport. Amtrak also provides rail service to Whitefish through Portland, Seattle and Spokane.

Where to stay: Grouse Mountain Lodge is a full-service hotel in the Flathead Valley with free shuttles to The Big Mountain, 20 minutes away. Telephone (800) 321-8822. Three-day/three-night packages start at $185-$215 per person, double occupancy, including lodging, two days’ lifts, three breakfasts, a dinner at the lodge and a sleigh ride. Five-day/five-night packages start at $370 per person, double occupancy.

The Kandahar Lodge is one of six hotel and condo properties at Big Mountain itself. Various package plans are available through Central Reservations, (800) 858-5439. Delta offers air fare/lodging/lift ticket package deals for as low as $764 per person, double occupancy, for four nights at Kandahar.

For additional lodging information, call the Flathead Valley Convention & Visitors Assn. at (800) 543-3105.

Skiing: The Big Mountain daily adult lift ticket price is $29. Adult three-day lift tickets: $84. Junior/senior (ages 3-18 and 62-plus) three-day tickets: $66. Children’s three-day lift ticket: $45. Ski school group and private lessons are avaiable. There is no entrance fee for cross-country skiing in Glacier National Park. For West Glacier information, call (406) 888-5441 or 888-5551.