Pumped to be Stoked: Skiing the Ridge

By Jason Bacaj

Skiing Bozeman, Mont.'s Ridge at Bridger Bowl for the first time.

The Ridge looms above Bridger Bowl, tempting and terrifying.

Cliffs and narrow chutes line the eastern-facing exposure and keep most folks away from the powder stashes that await those in love with technical descents and the low-density snow known locally as the Cold Smoke. Ski legends such as the original freeskier, Scot Schmidt; the late great Doug Coombs, who won two of the first three World Extreme Skiing championships; local legend Tom Jungst; and current Alaskan heli guide Jim Conway all cut their teeth on the Ridge in the late '70s and the early '80s.

As a kid who grew up in West Virginia trying to emulate guys like that by hucking "cliffs" on the North Face lift line at Seven Springs outside Pittsburgh, my first winter in Montana was a long wait for enough snow to fall to hit the Ridge for the first time. It finally happened Jan. 16. 

I was skiing alone, but packed my avalanche gear and brought my Pieps along in hopes of tagging along with someone up there. After sharing the lift and a chute off the High Traverse with a grizzled local named Pete, he was gracious enough to step up with me and show me the ropes.

The hike takes a skier or rider in moderate shape about 10 to 15 minutes, according to Stepping Up, a guide to the Ridge. Usually I like to think I'm in above-average shape, but this winter has been abnormally snowless in Bozeman. All the running, biking and hiking I'd done in the fall was gone because I was too lazy to run much during those 40 and 50 degree days in late December and early January. As a result, the hike was a quad-clenching, cough inducing slog for me. Pete was nice enough to slow down for me and attribute my pace to the fact that I'd been skiing for all day. It probably took me about 30 minutes. My feet cramped as I wrote that last sentence.

After I finally made it up and rested enough to put my skis on, Pete led the way across the cat trail along the aptly named Ridge, which in some places spreads just a few feet across before dropping off.

We made our way to Sun Rock and Pete started counting "doors," or entrances to narrow chutes that split the cliff band above Bridger Gully. We stopped at the sixth of approximately seven doors (everything, including the names of runs, on the Ridge is learned through each person's meandering experience). A couple Ridge Rats blew by and said there was a monstrous rock about 100 yards down. Pete and I decided to try the seventh door.

It took about six or so jump-turns to get through the roughly six-foot wide chute to the top of the gully. Pete dropped first into the marginally chewed-up powder field below, stringing some smooth turns together before stopping at a gigantic Douglas fir and giving me the go-ahead.

I skied a bit left, picked a clean line between tracks left by others and dropped. It was awesome. The snow gave me a weightless feeling right after shifting my weight between turns, picking me up and gently pulling me into the next. I like to think that's what skiing clouds would feel like. Pete and I clicked poles to celebrate the powder turns and I immediately fell over as my quads seized up.

A little later, we contoured through the trees and tracked down some of Pete's secret powder stashes. He even gave me firsties on one 30-or-so-yard stretch on the last bit of Ridge terrain. The rest of the run was top secret, and you'll have to jam bamboo shards under my toenails before I consider spilling my guts. It was awesome and you would not even think about looking for powder where we found it.

Pete and I shook hands and said we'd share some laps next time. He went for another run down the mountain and I went to the bar to double-fist waters before driving home. Hell of an introduction to the Ridge.

Jason Bacaj is Began in '96's Out West correspondent. 

Banner image via 72PPI
Inside image by Pete, courtesy of Jason Bacaj.