Big Mountain plans big season finish

“I’ve never seen this much sun,” laughs Assistant Ski Patrol Director Tary King from the log cabin atop Montana’s Big Mountain.

“Spectacular” falls short of describing the views. Glacier Park, the Swan and Mission Mountains, the Cabinet Wilderness Area, even Canadian peaks march off into the distance.

“We hardly ever see the sun, but this year it’s out every day,” King continues. “Locals may be grousing, but visitors are digging it.”

If Montana wasn’t stamped all over the scenery, you’d think you were in Sun Valley. Locals who usually sport pasty faces are tanned. Visitors gawk at never-before-seen views, even though they’ve skied here prior winters.

Let’s face it: This winter brought carnage to Northwest ski areas. Big Mountain is no exception. No amount of hype can cover the fact that south-facing runs melted into muck resembling a mud wrestling arena, forcing the area to move up its seasonal closure to next weekend.

But while many Northwest ski areas were forced to fizzle into mud season, Big Mountain is gearing up for one smash-bang finale.

Starting Thursday, the annual Waitress Cup kicks off the merriment by packing out The Stube for skits, some rated “R” for downright raunchiness. This standing-room-only event features obstacle races on snow followed by roasts of mountain VIPs, crooning off-tune, and no-holds-barred acting by mountain employees.

During full moon on Friday and Saturday, skiers will dine at the Summit House and ski by the glow of moonlight. On Saturday, the first Snow Skate Jam arrives at Big Mountain with stairs, rails, fun boxes, and small hits for the cutting-edge gear not yet allowed on many Northwest ski slopes.

To celebrate Easter, not only do the kids get to hunt for eggs in the Basecamp Kid Center, but adults get their own Easter egg hunt on big runs on the mountain.

And for a 36th year, Big Mountain closes with its season finale: the Furniture Race, scheduled for next Sunday at 5 p.m.

Couches, airline seats, cribs, toilets and anything masquerading as “furniture” can enter. Just attach skis, steering and brakes. Participants must be at least 21 years old, wear brain buckets, and have chutzpah enough to ride such rigs.

Big Mountain is located on the collision course of Pacific and Arctic weather systems that usually dump 300 inches of snow per year. Skiers typically flounder in powder and get lost in fog, while lift towers and sub-alpine firs are rimed with frost.

But sunny skies brought half of normal snowfalls this winter, and arid high pressure spirited away trademark “snow ghosts” – trees coated in white – along with the traditional gray gloom.

While the Flathead Valley floor browned up and the mud zone crept higher and higher, March opened with 5 feet of snow still burying the ski area’s summit. It’s not the worst March on record; in 2001, King says, most of the month recorded only 50 inches of snowpack – 10 inches less than this year.

Even with daytime temperatures rocketing into the 40s and above, the summit snowpack hangs steadily at 58 inches. But despite good skiing snow still on the back side, which usually lasts well into July, the ski area’s front side has deteriorated to limited conditions.

“Even with limited skiing, people are having fun,” says Chester Powell, director of mountain operations. “We still have more open terrain than smaller Northwest ski areas have on their entire hills.”

To match the area’s current operational size, Big Mountain has chopped its ticket prices to $39 for adults and $29 for seniors and juniors. Kids 6 and under always ski for free.

For advanced beginners, Hope Slope and Question Mark runs have deeper, denser machine-made snows that have fared well.

“The morning sun nicely softens the hard pack early on,” says Powell, “but afternoon shades preserve the snow.”

For intermediates and above, a few top-to-bottom slopes have also survived: Toni Matt, Moementum to Lower Inspiration, and the run combination that locals refer to as Around the World (Big Ravine, Interstate, Hellroaring.)

And with the mountain’s back side still laden with snow, skiers will promptly start hiking to access skiing after the resort closes.

Morning hardpack tempers into midday corn snow, where cranking carves isn’t so much of the art as lazy sliding. Locals pick east-facing slopes first, then follow the sun around the mountain as it softens the top inch or two. The sweet spot moves uphill during the day until moguls mutate into forgiving slush bumps, then skiers pound laps on upper mountain chairs.

With good back-side snows protected from the sun, skiers and boarders in the Terrain Park pop off six gigantic jumps as well as rails, boxes and picnic tables.

And in a testament to spring frivolity, the underwear tree next to the Glacier Chaser lift sprouts daily with more colorful unmentionables.

“It’s not great for someone driven to ski a million runs from first chair to last,” says Barbara Shaiman, a visitor from Seattle who, like many Northwesterners, has skied very little this year. “But if you just relax, the sun, the views and what’s open are thoroughly enjoyable.”

When you can lounge outside the Summit House at 7,000 feet, overlooking Glacier Park, sometimes adding up vertical isn’t the point. Selling burgers, drinks and sunscreen for those sporting the beet-red look, the Summit House is the place to be.

“Lunching on the deck without a jacket was simply amazing,” Shaiman says.