Bucket List Tourism Project: Visit Big Sky and the Journal of Lost Time
Two years ago in the spring, I packed my bags, loaded up my camera kit, and headed out to Big Sky Country with @thejournaloflosttime — ready to chase stories, ethereal light, and the wild beauty of Montana.
Helicopter Flight over Yellowstone National Park (it is ILLEGAL to fly drones in National Parks)
It was my first time stepping foot in Yellowstone National Park. My first time wading waist-deep into a cold mountain river, camera in hand, shooting fly fishing scenes from angles I’d only dreamed of. We woke before sunrise, hiked through frostbitten mornings in Custer Gallatin National Forest, and watched herds of bison graze in golden light like ancient silhouettes on the horizon.
There was one moment I’ll never forget: floating in a helicopter above Grand Prismatic Spring. Palms sweating, heart pounding, feet dangling out the door—just me, the camera, and the surreal spectrum of color unfolding beneath us. It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime perspectives that makes your pulse race and your mind go quiet.
My goal on this trip? Make Big Sky feel BIG.
From capturing high-speed mountain biking on steep singletrack to standing under the stars at a local live music show in the heart of town, I wanted every frame to reflect just how alive this place is. Big Sky isn’t just a destination—it’s where adrenaline meets stillness, where you can push your limits in the morning and soak up the quiet by evening. We hiked and cycled through pine forests still dusted with snow. We cast lines into crisp alpine rivers. We rode gravity-fed trails that curved through towering evergreens. And in between all the motion, we made time for the stillness—like morning coffee at Caliber Coffee or stargazing in the soft hum of Town Center’s music scene.
Working alongside @nateinthewild—someone I’ve admired for a long time—only deepened the impact of the experience. I learned so much just by watching how he moved, how he composed shots, how he brought vision to life. We climbed into Beehive Basin under a navy-blue pre-dawn sky, headlamps lighting the way, silence broken only by the crunch of snow beneath our boots. And just when we thought the adventure couldn’t go any deeper, we crossed into Yellowstone. The air felt older there. Slower. Bison moved like slow thunder across the plains. Geysers whispered steam into the sky. And the Grand Prismatic Spring? A reminder that this planet still has magic we can barely comprehend.
Montana moved at its own pace—unhurried, vast, and grounded. There’s something about this place that lingers long after you’ve left. The sky really is bigger here. And for those fleeting days, I felt like I’d stepped into the pages of something ancient and new all at once.
If you’ve never been to Big Sky, let this be your sign. Go for the scenery, stay for the feeling.
Bring your camera—but more importantly, bring your full attention. This place deserves it.
Until next time, -Frankie S. @fr33water
Check out the main article we published for The Journal of Lost Time — The Sky’s Embrace
