Nichole Bernier-Ahern checks into the Ritz-Carlton Bachelor Gulch in Beaver Creek, Colorado, for an haute ski experience with Wild West flair

The resort was nowhere to be found. "Why would they build it out here, anyway?" said my husband, Tom, clicking on the interior car light and poring over the road atlas for the stretch of I-70 in Eagle County. "Bachelor Gulch isn't even on the map."

A phone call to the Ritz-Carlton Bachelor Gulch yielded directions like something out of The Da Vinci Code: Loop around several traffic circles and bear right at the statue of stampeding bulls, kick into four-wheel-drive for a mile uphill, cruise through the checkpoint gate, head into the darkness and under an arch, and then hairpin into the courtyard, where you'll be greeted by two men.

And, twenty minutes later, we were. Two bellmen in full-length oilskin coats and ten-gallon hats appeared from the doorway and relieved us of our bags and skis. Inside, the lobby was elegant yet low-key, built in the log-and-beam style of Western national park lodges, with subtle touches of five-star taste. The registration desk faced a grand gathering space with a cathedral ceiling and a massive stone fireplace. Leather couches and chairs were clustered in circles conducive to chatting, reading, and sipping cocktails. Outside, visible through the plate-glass windows, a bonfire was roaring, a few faces illuminated in the orange glow. Behind them was blackness. We were presumably somewhere near Beaver Creek, part of a trio of base areas—with Bachelor Gulch and Arrowhead—linked in a symbiotic village-to-village ski network. Vail, the country's largest ski area, was only fifteen miles away.

Whether or not Bachelor Gulch is acknowledged by Rand McNally, the ski area is on the map for winter-sport enthusiasts. The town was settled in the early 1900s, when silver-mining bachelors and such homesteaders as Allie Townsend (the first female resident) and Zach Allen (her father) set up house; today, two mountaintop cabins bearing their names are used for gourmet dining and special events. The area's brief heyday as a lettuce-farming community ended during the Depression, and the land fell into private ranching hands, where it remained for decades until it became part of the grand plans of a burgeoning ski area. The ski mountains debuted one at a time: Beaver Creek in 1980, Arrowhead in 1988, and, lastly, Bachelor Gulch in 1996. In 2002, Bachelor Gulch was populated in earnest. Ritz-Carlton built its 237-room luxury resort, which in its first year came in fifth on this annual list of the Top 50 North American ski resorts, and this year ranks third.

The location for Ritz-Carlton's first ski resort was deftly chosen, tucked in the crease between Beaver Creek and Arrowhead mountains, making it part of things without being at the heart of things. For people who like their privacy, this is a blessing; for those who like the world at their door, perhaps less so. Unlike Beaver Creek, Bachelor Gulch has no base village per se—the hotel is the alpha and the omega of dining, shopping, and nightlife in the immediate area. But the ski perks are palpable. The resort claims the foot of the mountain like a pampered only child. Guests encounter no competition for the morning lift and can ski Bachelor Gulch—which no one save Beaver Creek connoisseurs has heard of—with plenty of elbow room, or the adjacent slopes of Arrowhead, the equally underpopulated area directly to the west. One downhill run away is Beaver Creek, with 109 trails and a citylike base area of shops and restaurants, all connected by heated walkways and featuring covered outdoor escalators—no need for staggering ski-boot stair climbs here. From Bachelor Gulch, the drive to Beaver Creek takes about fifteen minutes. Sometimes, a little distance can be a good thing.