The Big Trip to Big Sky

Sometimes the best trips start with a simple yes—to a new group, a new place, and an experience you don’t fully understand yet. This one began with a $25 ski club membership and ended with an incredible experience.

I started skiing at age 42, scared to death, with too many falls in one day to count—but I did not give up. I knew I had to stick with it because I knew one day I would love it. I like to think of it as going from a kiddie pool to the Pacific Ocean: one small slope at a time until suddenly you’re staring at Big Sky, Montana, thinking, Oh, hello, massive mountain…

I write these little blogs with one goal in mind: to save you a little time, a little money, and maybe nudge you into saying yes to something you’ve been on the fence about.

How It All Started

I joined the South Jersey Ski Club in June 2025 for a very practical reason. A friend from Central Jersey asked if I wanted to ski out West with her, and there was just one caveat—I had to join the South Jersey Ski Club. Being a huge fan of grassroots clubs, and with the cost of only $25, it was a total no-brainer.

That $25 gets you access to five to six ski trips a year—usually two East Coast, two West Coast, and two international. Translation: options, logistics handled, and people who already know what they’re doing.

A Necessary Disclaimer

Before we go any further: nothing about skiing is inexpensive. Not the skis. Not the boots. Not the lift tickets. Not the food on the mountain. This is not a budget sport. But it is a lifelong experience sport—and, in my opinion, it attracts some of the nicest people in the sports world. Modest, helpful, with a simple agenda: enjoy skiing and often share that experience with others.

We flew into Bozeman Airport—which has gained Netflix fame with the Yellowstone series—where an airport transfer was waiting for us the moment we landed. That may sound small, but trust me—those details matter when you’re tired, hauling ski bags, boots, luggage and wondering why you chose a sport that requires so much equipment.

I brought my own skis and bag ($40 each way), plus a carry-on. The flight and hotel was included in the trip, which came in around $2,000, give or take. That did not include lift tickets. There is an option for an IKON pass but thanks to a friends-and-family discount (thank you, Ellen Bernard), I snagged four days for about $450.

Timing, PTO, and the Snow Gods

Christmas came and went, and despite working in sales—where January PTO is generally frowned upon—I took the second week of January off. I submitted my request and quietly whispered a prayer to the snow gods.

There were about 70 people on this trip. I knew one person. Still, I hopped on the bus to Newark with zero concern, confident that by the end of the week I’d recognize everyone by face—or at least by ski mask and goggles.

Ski-In, Ski-Out (Close Enough)

We stayed at the Huntley Lodge, right at the base of the mountain. Technically ski-in/ski-out. Realistically? Just a few steps to the lifts. All I know is that it was incredibly convenient, and convenience matters when your legs are tired and your boots are unforgiving and you can valet your skis as soon as you ski down.

Big Sky is known for its sheer size and variety. Over 75% of the terrain is blues, double blues, and black diamonds. Translation: this mountain does not mess around. Going from Bunny Hills to Big Sky is like going from your backyard sandbox to Mount Everest—suddenly everything is massive, and your perspective is completely reset. The hotel was beautiful. It included an amazing breakfast, a heated pool and an even hotter hot tub- which I was in every night.

Day One: Guided and Grateful

Our first day included a complimentary mountain guide—an excellent decision formed by our group leaders Tammy and Karen (SJ Ski Club). Big Sky is massive, and having someone show us around while prioritizing safety made all the difference. We skied about 15 miles that day, mostly greens and blues, in a group of 12 intermediate skiers. The summit sits around 11,000 feet, so altitude sickness was a real concern for us sea-level dwellers. Thankfully, I felt fine. Others… not so much.

Day Two: Ski the Loop

Day two brought the “Ski the Loop” challenge—a clever marketing idea that’s actually a fantastic way to see the entire mountain, including the backside. The instructions were very specific: take this lift, then that run, then that lift, then that run. It required coordination. We missed a few turns. A few blues accidentally turned into blacks. There were several “Which way did she go?” moments. But we made it.

We triumphantly skied to the visitor center to collect our official pin, which we immediately attached to our goggles like the badges of honor they were.

I should mention: most of the 70 people on this trip were excellent skiers. Some were casually skiing triple black diamonds. Many had been skiing since childhood. Others ski several times a week, mostly out West or in Europe. What struck me most was their attitude. No bragging. No competition. No ego. Just quiet confidence and a shared love of skiing. Fascinating—and oddly comforting.

Day Three: Confidence (and Chaos)

By day three, I finally felt comfortable—with the mountain, the lifts, the signs, my skis, my boots, the weather, and even the SNOW.. It was, without question, the most perfect ski day of my life. Most people didn't think it was the best conditions but for me- skiing in New York and Vermont the wide open trails with virtually no one on it was heaven.

I did one glade run (trees!). I did one mogul run (terrible, humbling, emotionally damaging). And I unintentionally entered a black bowl.

For the record, I did not ski into the bowl. I wouldn never do that. I learned later it was “flat light,” which makes depth perception nearly impossible. One second I was on a path. The next: “OH SHIT.” Airborne into a deep bowl. To the horror of my friend Christine who watched it happen.

Somehow, I landed on my skis… and then immediately face-planted but hey I can now say I skiied a black bowl at Big Sky. Taking my boots off that afternoon felt like a full-body exhale. The pear martini at après ski sealed the deal. Followed quickly for a group shotski (look it up)

A Break from Skiing (Sort Of)

I genuinely do not understand how people ski five days in a row. By then, I had logged about 60 miles, and my thighs were screaming.

So, on a whim, I joined another woman for dog sledding. I did no research. None.

I arrived to find 56 Alaskan huskies barking, jumping, flipping, and losing their minds with excitement. As it was explained to me, they knew they were going sledding and they were happy.

Our first task? Helping hook each dog to the sled. Some teams had four dogs, some six, some eight. Then came the question: “Who’s wants to be the musher"?

Excuse me?

Who wants to drive?

Ummm (insert questionable side eyes here)

I started in the sleigh seat. The dogs took off running- very fast! We had been told—repeatedly—not to let go of the sled. Ever. Never-ever.

My partner, who was actually doing great, hit a downhill turn and went flying. As the sled it on its side. I glanced back and saw her hands and feet in the snow—none of them on the sled. I was sideways in sled, thinking, Well, Colleen, this might be it. Death by dog sled.

Help arrived before the dogs made a full escape, and halfway through she gently suggested that I take over driving. t was far harder than it looked. Strong dogs. Stronger than me. Five miles later, mostly downhill, and we were done. Incredible experience. Also: one and done. Till next time. Haha.

Montana Magic

Montana is stunning. Truly. We flew into Bozeman—home of the Yellowstone Netflix fame—and Western hospitality was everywhere. Our lodge was filled with cowboys and massive fireplaces. Menus featured bison, elk, trout, and craft beer. There was an outdoor heated pool and a fabulous hot tub we used every night.

I prefer pizza, sushi, and salad—but I’m willing to try anything once. Between the lean meat and nonstop skiing, I lost four pounds. I’ll take it. Montana Magic.

The Final Ski Day

Our last ski day was a true bluebird day, the kind that makes you forget how sore you are. The mountain is so massive, yet somehow we managed to see most of it. We took about 90 minutes out of the day to ride the tram to the very top, where there’s a glass-bottom platform that lets you walk out and look straight down at the mountain below. Completely breathtaking—and equally terrifying once you realize people actually ski down from there. Triple black diamonds. Absolutely not.

I was nervous just walking near the edge, which drops straight down. It was in one word- insane We also signed up to watch an avalanche rescue dog demonstration, which was fascinating and impressive. These dogs train for two years to locate people buried in avalanches. No beacon, probe, or shovel- pray for an avalanche dog. It was also a gentle reminder for me to continue sticking to blue and green slopes.

That said, Big Sky does have double blues, and I skied a few of them—and was very proud of myself. We skied right up until 3:30 p.m., feeling incredibly grateful: no injuries, amazing weather, and plenty of snow—something not all Western resorts were lucky enough to have this season.

Yellowstone: The Grand Finale

Our final day was planned around exploring Yellowstone National Park. Fun fact: Yellowstone was the first national park, established on March 1, 1872.

The park is known for its abundant wildlife, and it did not disappoint. We saw plenty of bison, coyotes, and bald eagles. Bears hibernate in the winter, and elk sightings were limited—due to ongoing wolf activity. Wolves roam in packs and will attack when needed; we even saw the remains of a bison they had taken down along the side of the road. A sobering but powerful reminder that this is truly wild land. Be careful and follow the rules that are posted everywhere.

Yellowstone spans over 3,500 square miles, which means we only experienced a small fraction of it. Still, what we saw was incredible: erupting geysers (there are more than 500), bubbling mud pots, steaming hydrothermal features, lakes, mountains, and countless lessons in volcanism along the way.

Most of Yellowstone (about 96%) is in Wyoming. We crossed paths with roughly 50 snowmobilers who had ridden in from Jackson Hole—also on my bucket list. Winter turned out to be a perfect time to visit. Seeing geysers erupt against a bluebird sky and bison roaming with snow-covered faces felt almost surreal.

Summer, we were told, offers a different kind of beauty—but it’s busy. The recommendation is to arrive by 7:00 a.m. to avoid traffic and crowds and to research which park entrances are least utilized. Yellowstone has several hotels within the park itself, but they sell out far in advance.

We saw Old Faithful, which isn’t the biggest or most dramatic geyser in the park, but it is the most consistent—erupting roughly every 90 minutes, hence the name. We didn’t have time to explore the nearby town, but it looked absolutely charming—full of saloons, small casinos, shops, and restaurants.

A Final Thought

Trips like this are a reminder of how important it is to get outside, move your body, and let nature do what it does best—put everything into perspective. I took a chance by joining a ski club where I barely knew anyone, said yes before I overthought it, and trusted the experience. I’m incredibly grateful I got to simply be a participant and not the organizer (a luxury I don’t take lightly—ha).

By the time I boarded the plane from Bozeman to Newark, I was completely spent in the best possible way. I fell asleep almost immediately and stayed that way for four straight hours—an absolute rarity for me. Exhausted, content, and full of gratitude.

Big Sky was big in every way that mattered. Bozeman, with its Netflix fame, is even better in person. And the South Jersey Ski Club? Absolutely worth joining. Thank you to Tammy, Karen, Christine, Ginny... and my slope buddy Christine B. A great trip!