Listen, I wasn’t expecting a cryptid sighting when I strapped into my snowboard last Saturday. I was expecting the usual—some powder turns, a regrettable après-ski hot dog, and maybe a few faceplants for character. But what I got instead? Oh, just a full-blown Sasquatch sighting… and the dude rips.
It all started on the Lone Tree lift. I caught something big and hairy darting through the trees off Challenger—at first, I thought it was just your average ski bum who’s been living in his van since October and hasn’t seen a shower since the first snowfall. But then I saw it… the size 28 boot prints (barefoot, mind you) and a cloud of unmistakably skunky smoke wafting out of the trees.
Curiosity took hold. I followed the scent like a high-altitude Scooby-Doo and stumbled upon the legendary smoke shack. You know the one—half-hidden in the woods, where locals gather to warm up and puff down. And who was inside? Big. Hairy. Legendary.
Yep, it was Sasquatch himself. And he was chilling hard, passing around a premium pre-roll of LPC’s finest like he was the unofficial brand ambassador of chill. He looked up, gave me a knowing nod, and said (I swear on my season pass):
“You mind? This is the Seshquatch zone.”
I blacked out from joy for a second.
Over the next hour, I learned some things about our fuzzy forest friend:
- He snowboards. Aggressively. Like, sends-it-off-the-Headwaters kind of aggressively.
- He only smokes LPC. “No mids in the Montana wild,” he growled.
- He’s got opinions. Especially on goggle tans, overpriced lift tickets, and that one guy who skis in jeans (you know who you are, Greg).
We rode a few runs together. He carves like a beast (pun intended), leaves yeti-sized rooster tails of powder, and still finds time to dip into every smoke shack from Moonlight to Shedhorn. People kept asking where I got the killer LPC preroll. I just pointed at the seven-foot fuzzball flying switch down Liberty Bowl.
So next time you’re out at Big Sky, keep your eyes peeled and your LPC stash stocked. Because if you’re lucky—and I mean really lucky—you just might catch a glimpse of the mythical Seshquatch, lighting up the slopes and the smoke shacks, one puff at a time.
And if he offers you a hit?
Don’t say no.
Just remember: legends never die… they just duck into the trees for a toke.
