“That stone’s like a greased bowling ball,” my fishing guide, Jack Flemming, told me. I was standing waist-high in the Gallatin River, plodding against the rapid current. There was not a lick of action as far as rainbow trout were concerned, but that was beside the point.
Rangy lodgepole pines, which constitute 80 percent of the 2.2 million-acre Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, smelled mountain fresh, and sunbeams shimmered on the water. My mind was both blank and hyper-focused: cast the fly rod, mend, repeat. Truth is, I couldn’t have cared less about catching a fish. I was content to lean into the wilds of Montana, perhaps the most consequential wilderness in the continental United States.
Historically, Montana has provided powerful symbols of American identity—its highs, lows, and mythical tableaux. Yellowstone became the country’s first national park in 1872. Four years later, at the Battle of the Little Bighorn during the Great Sioux War, General George Custer and his federal troops were decimated in less than an hour by the Sioux and Cheyenne. A River Runs Through It and Other Stories, Norman Maclean’s semi-autobiographical novella about his coming-of-age in Montana, was published in 1976. And, in June, a new symbol emerged from these lands: a rare white bison was born in Yellowstone, the first to be documented in more than a century.
Meanwhile, as Democrat Jon Tester fights to keep his Senate seat in a highly contested race, the state has quietly become a crucible for America’s partisan divide. The unstoppable cultural phenomenon of Yellowstone, in which Kevin Costner portrays a wealthy rancher who becomes the governor of Montana, has broadcast the state’s complexities, and remarkable vistas, all over the world. Coupled with a pandemic that glamorized wide-open spaces, thousands have relocated here. Bozeman, where Montana’s first Whole Foods just opened, is the fastest-growing city in the United States.
In 2013, tech entrepreneur Jason Liebman and real-estate developer Paul Makarechian heard about a ranch that was in bankruptcy proceedings in Big Sky, Montana. Settled under the Homestead Act in 1915, the property was full of stories. It had been a school, a lumber operation, and, finally, a hunting-and-fishing guest ranch. The log cabins and 53 miles of trails, for horseback riding and cross-country skiing, were set among the dramatic landscape near the Big Sky ski resort. The pair bought it and kept its name, Lone Mountain Ranch.
Since then, they’ve spared no expense to bring it back to life, incorporating regional history into its rebirth. In the process, they may have created the quintessential Western-flavored destination: high on cowboy, low on kitsch, and subtly, ineffably stylish.
Here, one might see billionaires from the nearby Yellowstone Club and notables from Hollywood and the tech universe drop in at the Horn & Cantle restaurant for lunch, cooling their heels in T-shirts. Kids in bandannas tumble on the lawn.
Luxury is in the details. Cabin walls are hung with warmly patinaed objects: snowshoes, an old six-string guitar, worn hats, and leather chaps. A metal thermos of coffee, accompanied by a bottle of half-and-half, was delivered to my porch each morning. I drank it before breakfast as the North Fork Creek crashed at the foot of my cabin. Montana-made chocolates and energy bars filled a basket in my room. My handsome bed of hewn logs as well as the interior millwork were sourced from local artisans and tradespeople.
The staff made it comfortable to slip into an adventurous, outdoorsy groove. Offering experiences that allow guests to connect deeply with the location and its past is intrinsic to the philosophy of their company, Auric Road. It also operates three properties in California, and a fourth is in development in southern Arizona.
After fishing, I borrowed cowboy boots, which were lined up in cubbies like bowling shoes, for a trail ride atop Jeffrey, one of 120 horses on-site. Later, up the hill at the ranch’s own full-fledged rodeo, now in its third season, I cheered wrangler Kaydee Brinis as she competed in the barrel-racing event. Clean air, denim-blue sky, and the rolling blanket of evergreens on the horizon lent grandeur to this uplifting slice of Americana.
Laid-back opulence—jeans and boots allowed—permeates the moody interior of the just-opened Auric Room, a supper club fashioned like a speakeasy, with a secret entrance code. Designed by Eric Cheong, of North 45 Projects, it is a modern take on an Old West saloon, and a stylishly rendered time capsule containing shadow boxes of rare artifacts from 1915. My summer-corn tortellini were served by men and women in uniforms created by Janie Bryant, costume designer of the Yellowstone prequels as well as Mad Men. Hermès salt and pepper shakers, Saint-Louis barware, and hand-painted wallpaper round out the richly textured atmosphere.
One afternoon, I hiked to Ousel Falls, stopping to admire bright glacier lilies, amethyst wolfsbane, and ancient Douglas firs. According to Randy Hall, the ranch’s naturalist, they are the oldest trees in the vast Yellowstone eco-system.
Yellowstone National Park, 18 miles away, was a full-day excursion in a sleek van. Its jewel-colored thermal pools, volcanic gorges, and serene vistas were reminders that the national park is one American institution that remains unbroken. Despite 2022’s catastrophic floods and the unyielding threat of wildfires (the last calamitous one was in 1988), there are positive developments in its eco-system. Bison, once near extinction, are 6,000 strong. Grizzlies, though endangered, now number near 1,000. I locked eyes with a fluffy, round-eared cub that sidled up to our van.
Hoisting binoculars, I scanned the herds for the newborn white calf, but my search was futile. In Lakota culture, these sacred young are believed to bring prosperity, while cautioning us to tend to the natural world. I blew a wish across the plains to this miraculous being, wherever it was, for a long and healthy life.
Room rates at Lone Mountain Ranch begin at $1,100 per night, inclusive of accommodations, transportation, and meals. The writer was a guest of the hotel
Marcia DeSanctis is a contributing writer at Travel + Leisure and writes essays and stories for Vogue, Town & Country, Departures, and BBC Travel. Her new book, a collection of travel essays called A Hard Place to Leave: Stories from a Restless Life, is out now
