I have lived in Montana my entire adult life, finding my way to age 40 (gulp!) from that path that led me from the Midwest to the Flathead Valley all those years ago. In a sense, this state has raised me from a young woman who didn’t have much of a life direction other than wanting to live here and figure the rest out on the fly, like a job, housing, friends, etc. As difficult as it is at times to say I’m officially an adult, this is a landscape that has seen me through many challenging times, be it heartbreak, or the constant search for a job, or a place to rent that didn’t break the bank. I had my priorities straight: have enough money for a ski pass, and make friends with people who loved deep snow, long trails, and wild rivers. Luckily, as each year has ticked by, I’ve collected those ski passes and bonded with people who still invite me to ski, hike, and float.
The Montana that welcomed me in 2004 is in many ways very different than the Montana in 2022. In many ways, I’m a different person than I was at 22 compared to reaching 40. I still love to ski, hike, and float but these days I do with it with two kids in tow, and try to keep up with my husband who has formed a deep love with running long distances in the mountains and can still telemark ski without complaining of knee pain like I do. I don’t run long distances and now I alpine ski, but the part of me who fell in love with a valley that boasts incomparable beauty hasn’t changed. I won’t bore you with the tired anecdotes about “when I lived here it was a two-lane highway connecting Whitefish and Kalispell” or “you could actually live on a server’s wages in Whitefish” because throughout the generations, most of us have heard similar remarks. When I arrived, I already felt like I missed out on the best of the Flathead Valley, as if all the ski runs on deep powder days had already been claimed or the fun of a ski town had already morphed into something more corporate or discovered by the masses.
In my younger years I was less concerned about community matters than I am now, more focused on how I could land a job that would let me ski during the day and earn money at night. Yet, to belong to a place in its fullest sense is to care about the land, the people, and how we all connect. If you fail to do that, I believe you fail to truly belong to a place. The problems that our valley faces are likely no different than what our entire nation is facing but likely more compressed as the economics and demographics are changing at a fast clip. As the writer Heather Hansman says in her timely book, “Powder Days: Ski Bums, Ski Towns, and the Future of Chasing Snow,” we’re the adults now. We’re the ones who need to rally for the love our communities, be it creating affordable housing or supporting school boards, public libraries, and public health. We’re the adults now, and it’s our time to ensure that our kids will later grow up and brag to their friends: I lived in the Flathead Valley before it became cool.
Maggie Doherty is the owner of Kalispell Brewing Company on Main Street.