In celebration of Big Sky Resort’s 50th Anniversary, I wanted to share a story of friendship that spans nearly 45 years, spills into three generations, and travels over four states.

I’ll paint the picture: It’s 1976 and, in Spring, Texas, Jack Countryman and his wife, Marsha, are working hard to build their empire as Christian authors and aspiring publicists. They decide to accept an offer from Jack’s friend from California, Ed Plumber, to spend Christmas with him, his wife and three kids, in Big Sky, Montana — maybe even hit the slopes if they feel up to it! Jack had learned to ski with a team at the University of Oregon in Eugene, so he figured that skiing with his wife and two sons might be pretty fun, so long as everyone could get the hang of it. Bret was 10 and Jason five, so it was sure to be a hoot of a holiday trip for the two families.

Jack found the Hill Condos, and they cozied up to the beginning of an awesome stay in Big Sky. You know the feeling: fresh, fluffy powder, refreshing mountain air, ski jackets zipped up, nothing but anticipation and butterflies in the belly. Jack and his family felt this universal powder day excitement palpably when they purchased their lift ticket for $18. Reportedly, lines were “out the ass,” according to Jason. Apparently, since there were only two gondolas at this point, lines went a little slower. As a matter of fact, everything went a little slower. The roads to Huntley Lodge were dirt, and the best place to get grub after a run was the Ore House, where you could get a fabulously cooked Alaskan king crab with stuffed artichoke. That two-week Christmas vacation set the story in motion for the Countrymans; they were surely hooked on Montana powder.

Jack and Marsha were instantly in love with Big Sky. They decided to return the next year, and stopped by the local deli before settling into the Hill Condos once more. Walking into Ernie’s Deli, one of the gals who worked there saw Jack’s family and said, “Hi, Mr. Countryman, good to see you again.” The gesture of this Montanan remembering them after only a two-week vacation the previous year so touched the Countrymans that they returned the next year, then the next, and so on, until it’s all history. To this day, they say that this gesture encompasses what Big Sky was in the 1970’s.

In 1986, Jack and Marsha had one of those moments in a marriage where words needn’t be spoken. They were in love with Big Sky and they wanted to buy a home on the mountain. Luckily for the Countrymans, there was a kind realtor in what is now Big Sky Town Center, Jerry Pape of Triple Creek Realty. Originally from Chicago, Jerry Pape was everything you’d want in a realtor: as in love with the land as you are, kind and unassuming — someone who would give you the shirt off his back, a true Montanan. He found a home on the mountain that was being sold for $180,000, and Jack scooped it up as fast as he could. Jack’s ski instructor, Jay C Knaub, brought an elk hide as a housewarming gift, and frequently brought firewood when he visited the Countrymans. The elk hide is still in their home today.

When they first purchased it, their beloved home was a creamy brown but, over time, they decided it needed a little color. They chose the color “salmon” and, after a few coats, came to find that “salmon” really meant pink! This wouldn’t do, so they picked out a snowy blue. Now, this home is anecdotally and lovingly referred to as the Little Blue House.

Jack and his realtor, Jerry, became fast friends. Residentially, Big Sky was small in numbers, so it was hard not to be friends with everyone you passed by.

Jerry happened to have three kids (Jerry Jr., Rebecca, and Frank) around the same age as Jack’s two sons (Bret and Jason). The way Marsha sees it, Jason was her “adventurous” son and Bret was her “piece of cake” son. Jason found himself in many precarious situations. One time, Jerry Sr. took everyone out on his float boat to learn to fly fish, and a fly was caught in Jason’s arm. Jerry profusely apologized, and tenderly removed it from Jason’s skin. And then there was the time Jason practically flew out of a boat going down the 14 degree Yellowstone River. Here’s a sign you come from a serious fishing family: while in the frigid waters, the only thing Jason was thinking was don’t drop the rod, don’t drop the rod, hold on tight to the rod. Once rescued and returned to an upright position in the boat, the cold didn’t bother Jason much; they all just kept fishing, soaking wet!

Jack’s youngest, Jason, and Jerry’s youngest, Frank, were destined to be buddies. Before Ousel Falls had a trail leading to the waterfall, Jason and Frank would steal their dads’ beer and put it into milk crates. They would then run those milk crates, trail-less, to the base of Ousel Falls and put heavy rocks at the bottom of the crates so they wouldn’t float down the stream. When their parents would finally clock out for the night, Jason and Frank took their fathers’ pistols and would run down to the waterfall (bear spray wasn’t really “a thing”), collect their milk crates, and drink those beers in blissful victory at the top of the waterfall. To this day, Jason and Frank remain best friends; they were in each other’s weddings, and plan to retire their families in Big Sky one day, so they can live out their fathers’ legacies.

There were many shenanigans for the Countrymans and the Papes over the years. They braved Yellowstone Park in the wintertime on snowmobiles, attended the same New Year’s celebration party every year for over 35 years, and skied regularly at 30 below. Jack Countryman proudly talks about the Papes and the friendship they have shared with Jack’s family all these years. It was a sight to watch them ski together. Jack had reckless abandon on his skis, going for speed, leaving tameness at the door. Jerry carved the mountain with agility and skill, thoughtfulness and pattern. When Jack’s mustache and sideburns froze over, it was time for the friends to go to the Little Blue House and thaw, all the while chompin’ at the bit to get back to the slopes.

The families attended the Big Sky Fellowship Church every Sunday. The preacher was also an architect, and designed the add-on to the Countryman home in 1997. At this point, lots were selling like hot cakes. According to Jason, one day a lot would sell for $35,000; the following week, it would be turned around by the same buyer for $100,000. Once, Jack Countryman blocked a sale for the lot next door with a $5,000 check. It worked that one time, but, eventually, the Spanish Peak condos were built, blocking the view to the Countryman’s Little Blue House. The Spanish Peak condos are a four letter word in the Countryman family. 

Around this time, literature on how to deal with bear sightings was being published in the local newspaper. Marsha gingerly read up on this subject. Then, one night Jack and Marsha were up late chatting and heard some shuffling around in the kitchen. Jack looked at Marsha and said; “Marsha, we have a bear in the house.” Both stood, Jack grabbing his pistol and his camera, Marsha grabbing her trusty newspaper and a golden pan, used for decoration. Marsha started banging the pan against the banister while reading out the instructions from her newspaper. “Make noises, Jack!” Jack looked between his two options and put the pistol down. This was too good an opportunity to take an epic shot. They approached their kitchen and saw a 300-pound, shiny black bear eating their marshmallows! The bear went to the guest room, reportedly leaving behind a six-foot puddle before walking out the back door.

The Papes and the Countrymans have endless stories of enjoying the Montana mountains, skiing all the day long in the winter, fishing till the sun went down in the summer, and enjoying one another’s company. As the Big Sky Ski Resort’s 50th Anniversary approaches, the families have a message of friendship: “The same road that leads to the common areas of Big Sky are the ones that lead to the Yellowstone Club.” But with a heavy heart, Jason shares the sentiment that, “Unfortunately, for the right price, everything can be sold.” And although the then-kids-now-adults of both families are very successful in their own professional pathways, their friendship cannot be sold. They remain chosen families. Their story of generational friendship reminds Montanans that, though it is frustrating to see the Last Best Place be discovered, and ground constantly be broken, there are good people moving in who just want a peaceful life for their family. We are all a product of the addiction to the West and her Manifest Destiny.

This winter season, be kind as you wait in line for the lift, consider stopping to help those having a gnarly yard sale, and extend a set of Hot Hands if someone’s sideburns are frozen over. Oh, and keep calling out, “hey, bear” if you have marshmallows in your pocket! Apparently those black bears love s’mores!