The Big Trip to Big Sky

Sometimes the best trips start with a small, 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 somehow turned into an incredible experience.

I started skiing at 42, absolutely terrified. There were more falls in a single day than I could count, and plenty of moments where quitting felt like the smarter option. But I kept going, one wobbly step at a time, because I trusted that if I stuck with it, love would eventually catch up.

Learning to ski felt like taking baby steps through chaos—more missteps than progress at first. It was the kiddie pool before the deep end, the shallow slope before the wide-open mountain. One cautious run led to another, until suddenly I was standing at Big Sky, Montana, staring up and thinking, Oh. Hello, massive mountain.

I write these little blogs for one simple reason: to save you a bit of time, a bit of money, and maybe give you the nudge you need to say yes to something you’ve been hesitating on. Sometimes all it takes is one small step—missteps and all—to end up somewhere amazing.

How It All Started

I joined the South Jersey Ski Club in June 2025 for a very practical reason. A sweet friend (Christine B) 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. As someone who loves grassroots clubs and the people who keep them running, I said yes… with equal parts excitement and intrigue.

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

Before we go any further, let’s be honest: 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 kindest people in the sports world. Modest, helpful, and united by one simple goal: enjoy skiing and share it whenever possible.

We flew into Bozeman Airport—now Netflix-famous thanks to Yellowstone—and the moment we landed, an airport transfer was waiting for us. That might sound like a small detail, but when you’re tired, hauling skis, boots, luggage, and questioning why you chose a hobby with so much equipment, those details matter. A lot.

I brought my own skis and bag ($40 each way), plus a carry-on. The flight and hotel were included in the trip, which came in around $2,000, give or take. That didn’t include lift tickets. There is an IKON pass option, but thanks to a friends-and-family discount (thank you, Ellen Bernard), I scored four days for about $450—and felt like I’d just won a small but meaningful victory. I had an aisle seat- bonus!

I woke up from my nap and pulled open the shade and this is what I saw... it was beautiful. I forgot to mention that I woke up at 3:30 am to meet at 4:15 am to take a bus to a plane (Newark) for a 8:00 am flight.

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 two people. 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.

Location, location, location....

We stayed at the Huntley Lodge, and the location was unbeatable. Right at the base of the mountain, it felt like we were living inside a ski postcard. Everything you needed was just steps away—which matters when your legs are tired, your boots are unforgiving, and your body is quietly negotiating a ceasefire with gravity.

Big Sky itself is massive and unapologetic. More than 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 feels like going from a backyard sandbox straight to Mount Everest—suddenly everything is bigger, steeper, and slightly humbling in the best possible way.

And then there was the vibe. Actual cowboys casually roaming around like this is completely normal. Roaring fireplaces everywhere you turned, doing the important work of warming frozen toes and soothing ski-bruised souls. Add in a beautiful hotel, an amazing breakfast, a heated pool, and an even hotter hot tub—and you’ve got the kind of place where recovery feels just as intentional as the skiing. I was in that hot tub every single night, no exceptions.

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 base of BIg Ski sits around 7,000 feet with the summit ~ 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 that white powder falling from the blue sky… yes, snow. It was, without question, the most perfect ski day of my life.

For me—a girl who spends most of her ski life dodging icy patches and apologizing to her knees—the wide-open trails with virtually no one on them felt like absolute heaven. I didn’t care that I wasn’t floating through fresh powder every day. I cared that I had entire runs to myself, no traffic, no chaos, just space.

West Coast skiers chase powder. East Coast skiers chase survival. So while one might be mildly disappointed that we did not have daily fresh powder, I was out there having a full spiritual experience. It was quiet. It was glorious. It was bliss.

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 would 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- I got the sambucca!

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. Did I research it first? Nope. Not at all.I arrived to find 56 Alaskan huskies barking, jumping, flipping, and generally losing their minds with excitement. As I was told, they knew they were going sledding—and they were ecstatic.

Our first task: hook each dog to the sled. Some teams had four dogs, some six, some eight. Then came the question that made me question my life choices: “Who wants to be the musher?”

Excuse me? Drive the sled? Ummm… (insert very suspicious side-eye here).

I started in the sleigh seat. The dogs took off—fast. Very fast.

We had been told, repeatedly, never let go of the sled. Ever.

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

Have you ever experienced pure panic? Do I jump out (they’d said no, because the sled’s weight keeps the dogs in check), or do I stay, risking being dragged across Montana by Alaskan huskies? I should have read the waiver. Definitely should have read the waiver.

Somehow, I survived. Halfway through, my partner—covered in snow but otherwise fine—gently suggested I take over driving. It was harder than it looked. The dogs were strong. Stronger than me.

Five miles later, mostly downhill, and we were done. Incredible experience. Also: one and done. Until next time, maybe.

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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. The South Jersey Ski Club? Absolutely worth joining. Thank you to Tammy, Karen, Christine, Ginny and so many others that I only know by face... and of course to my slippery slope buddy----> Christine B. Thank you for the invite.

🏔️ Big Sky, Montana Adventure Cheat Sheet

Day 0 – Arrival & Awe

✈️ Fly into Bozeman (BZN) Shuttle to Huntley Lodge (steps from lifts!)🛁 Hot tub + heated pool recovery, Stare at mountain + fireplaces, maybe see roaming cowboys

Day 1 – First Runs & Minor Panic

☕ Breakfast fuel🎿 Acclimation: easy blues, practice lifts & signs,Legs start complaining, Apres-ski drinks + fireplace reflection👀 Cowboy sightings! Eagles lost- no superbowl this year. Pizza party and meet and greet. Nice touch!

Day 2 – “I Think I’ve Got This”

🎿 More slopes, maybe a black diamond🌨️ Flat light? East Coaster panic, West Coaster chill. Peanut butter and jelly for lunch (every day). 🛁 Hot tub, pool, fireplace therapy

Day 3 – Peak Ski Day

🎿 Comfortable with lifts, terrain, and snow. Wide-open trails = bliss for an East Coaster.No crowds, no icy chaos, pure mountain zen🔥 Evening recovery: fire, hot tub. Went into town for dinner. $7.95 friend chicken special.

Day 4 – Dog Sledding Madness

🐶 56 Alaskan huskies = chaos + joy, Hook dogs, take the sleigh seat, Partner flies off sled, you question life choices. Take over driving halfway through. Five miles later: exhausted, exhilarated, alive🛁 Recovery in hot tub/fireplace, laughing at yourself

Day 5 – Last Day of Skiing & Tram Adventure

🚡 Took the tram to the top of Big Sky for epic views. Watched a simulated avalanche dog rescue (thrilling + reassuring) Dinner: amazing bowl of tomato soup + grilled cheese

Optional afternoon runs for one last taste of wide-open trails. Soak in hot tub with a cold beer.

Day 6 – Yellowstone Adventure

🚌 Join guided tour to Yellowstone National Park. Spot bison, eagles and a coyote. Visit Old Faithful & geothermal features.Take photos of steaming geysers, bubbling mud pots, and epic Montana scenery. .Return to Bozeman for final night💭 Reflect on the entire trip and start plotting your next Montana adventure. Leftover party organized by South Jersey Ski Club. Wanted to stay and party but so tired. So happy.