Western mountains can sometimes intimidate, but not my beloved. It's huge, to be sure, with plentiful challenges built in - so many cliffs and chutes and glades, often all intermixed, that an extreme skier wouldn't even need to venture out of bounds to get the adrenaline pumping. However, the big draw, for those of us permanently arrested in the intermediate stage of prowess, is a seemingly endless array of blue runs - and not the vanilla boulevards typical of big resorts, but tilted, meandering trails screwy as a funhouse mirror.

You'd be hard pressed to find a trail here limited to a single fall line, or one so predictable, it had to be designed by committee. Instead, the trails follow the logic of the sprawling peaks, and if that means a trail that wanders off to the back of the beyond, like 3-mile-long Hell Fire, so be it. Ptarmigan Bowl, a perfect funnel shape, is positioned for optimal grandstanding in front of the chairlift. Your best bets on a bright spring day (when welcome sun can unfortunately render the snow the consistency of Elmer's Glue) are the north side runs, ranging from true double-blacks (super-steep, tree-strewn moguls) to the kind of single black - precipitous but brief - that can provide an instant boost to an intermediate's ego. Kodiak, for example, is one of those convex slopes that appear to have no bottom, until you're sailing over the crest. There's even a natural half-pipe, George's Gorge, running alongside the lift: should you freak out, it's easy enough to flip out.

Big Mountain, my winter paramour, will be celebrating its 60th birthday next December, and in celebration some lifts will get shifted, so as to consolidate the base area, which currently is a hodgepodge of all those decades' worth of facilities and lodgings. The traditionalist's choice is the slopeside , which - with its massive river-rock fireplace and knotty-pine-paneled rooms -- resembles a classic Alpine chalet: rooms here run $169-699, with some appealing packages - viewable online - cutting the cost. New Orleans-trained Andy Blanton heads a talented young team in the kitchen, so expect supper at the to be on the sophisticated side. Game (e.g., juniper-dusted elk tenderloin, grilled buffalo with gooseberry and fig balsamic glace) is a good bet, and the chef's table menu ($105-185, running 5-7 courses, without or without wine) is a great way to explore the offerings.

Another enticing lodging option, a ten-minute drive to the foot of the mountain road, is the brand-new . The lakeside pool and hot tub afford an inspiring view of the slopes you just mastered, and, like Kandahar, the Lodge boasts an in-house day spa. Rooms are spacious and cushy, and ski packages start as low as $259 per double per night, including transportation (from the airport and up to the slopes, at will), lift tickets, and breakfast buffet; a "Romantic" version substitutes dinner for skiing. The Boat Club restaurant melds western and eastern influences - all with that unbeatable lake view.

A popular destination in "downtown" Whitefish is the Cajun-inflected , where the dishes are unabashedly rich.

Alterna-Mountains

Should you tire of Big Mountain (I can't imagine why), , Montana's youngest ski resort, awaits some 25 miles south of Whitefish. It's a 1,000-acre, mostly intermediate playground with an unusual layout: the "base lodge" is at the summit, so you'll never have to schlep uphill. If tree-skiing remains on your to-do list, the gentle slopes here offer a easy entree.

In Missoula, which is located about 75 miles farther south (a negligible distance by western standards), the is primarily a local's hangout. A scruffy '60s holdover reminiscent of Vermont's Mad River Glen, this 950-acre, tri-mountain hideaway is home to some truly scary tree-strewn steeps (locals appear to relish the roughage). Chary intermediates may find the terrain inhospitable (grooming tends to be crude), but impecunious 20-something hotdoggers should appreciate the beat-up on-mountain accommodations, which run $48.50 to $78 per person - skiing included.

We spoiled adults found ourselves quite smitten with Missoula's , which puts out a skier-sustaining breakfast spread worthy of a Fairmont, featuring custom omelets and fresh pastries, such as a tarte Tatin-like banana bread. Next-door to the hotel is an unprepossessing-looking big-box restaurant, -- a satellite of the original, located in Cleveland, of all places. The CIA-trained chefs not only concoct extraordinarily creative daily fare (pretzel-crusted trout, lobster mac and cheese, veal truffle meatloaf with wild mushroom bread pudding) but are willing to whip up tasting menus accompanied by superbly matched wines. You start out thinking you're in Bennigan's territory - but are soon transported.