What a Rivian R1T Taught Us About The Ranch at Rock Creek

The second time Brent got shocked, the temperature had dropped and the rain started sticking. Under a soft albeit accumulating dusting of snow, we began to accept our current reality: it would take 74h 14m at 1 mi/hr plugged into 110V to get to 100% charge. Unfortunately, we had less than 48 hours at that point and a roughly 200-mile drive ahead of us.

My partner and I had road-tripped in a Forest Green Gen 2 Rivian R1T Tri-Motor, (a badge Rivian retired in August when it renamed the configuration Performance for 2027), from Bozeman through the mountain passes of western Montana to the Ranch at Rock Creek. Open year-round as a working cattle and guest ranch, it has spent more than a decade as a Forbes Travel Guide Five-Star property, which the brand bills as the first guest ranch anywhere to do so. In August it joined the Leading Hotels of the World, and it has just opened bookings for winter 2027. We didn't know it when we picked up the three-motor, 850-horsepower truck with an EPA-estimated 371 miles of range, but we'd also be testing the staff's late-night electrical re-wiring skills.

Our itinerary covered everything: four days and three nights at the ranch, with enthusiastic guides for lope rides and sporting clays, a Nordic track to Echo Lake, and four miles of private trout water, then east to Big Sky for the FAT Ice Race and the debut of the Rivian Adventure Department. Every meal was multi-coursed at Granite Lodge, and we spent our days chasing snow, fish and targets.

We were staying in the Ponderosa Cabin, complete with a clawfoot bathtub overlooking Mount Emerine, a wood-burning fireplace in the living room, and western décor that included a smattering of antlers throughout the cabin. Collected by the equestrian team at the Rod & Gun Club, the meeting place for all activities, they dotted the interiors and exteriors of the property.

After dinner and after dark, on our second night, we found ourselves in the machine shop, a place normally off limits to all guests, scouring for a 220V outlet. Despite two Tesla chargers, our NACS-to-CCS adapter refused to cooperate. The NACS-to-J1772 adapter that would have solved the problem wasn't in stock anywhere in the state. That left 220V, and the question of where a working cattle ranch supplies a 220V outlet (it’s neither an RV hookup nor its industrial laundry machines).

Unafraid of a few jolts, Brent, the decades-in lead handyman, senior electrician and all-around fix-it guy at the 6,600-acre ranch, took charge. In his words, those shocks "weren't my first or last." 

Having been a travel writer for nearly two decades, I am often asked, usually with an undertone of sass, coyness or curiosity, to define luxury and hospitality. For me, this was it. The willingness to find a solution when there doesn't appear to be a straightforward one, or, in other words, never hearing the word no. Brent figured the resolution was to re-wire a 110V into a 220V, which moves about what most Level 2 chargers do. It worked.

We awoke to a 72% charge and a winter weather advisory, which I considered an improvement on the avalanche warning we took to bed. The cold front had come through the day before with snow squalls, gusts near 40 miles an hour and a max temp of 32 degrees, which by the standards of last February was a cold snap.

By the time we made it to a full charge, a part of the ranch road remained closed. We could've gone the long way through Missoula, but that would've added time, miles and another charge, which is the sticking point of electric vehicles in a place like this. The ease and frequency of gas stations is gone. What takes its place is a silent ride, instant torque and, as I learned on this trip, full power at altitude: an electric motor makes the same power at 6,000 feet as it does at sea level, and a gas engine doesn't.

The closed road meant a night at the Silver Dollar Saloon, complete with bowling lanes, horse saddle bar stools, a pool table, ping pong, shuffleboard, karaoke; it's a veritable all-season, all-ages camp.

To make up time, we rode at dawn. We opted for Conserve mode and pointed east to Big Sky.

The R1T's Gear Tunnel, a 65-inch pass-through between the cab and the bed with a door on each side and a 110V outlet and a 12V socket inside, kept our luggage out of the weather, which in a Montana February is the entire point of a trunk. The Tri-Motor comes with what Rivian calls the Ascend interior: quilted seats, plaid floor mats, deep bronze hardware, and a cabin that stays warm. Conserve mode, which parks the rear axle and runs the truck on its front motor to stretch the range toward 405 miles, felt anything but conservative on Homestake Pass.

We pulled into Big Sky with 22% remaining. Rivian had been shuttling skiers up the mountain in R1S and R1T vehicles since mid-January and was about to spend the weekend on a frozen golf course at Moonlight Basin, where FAT International had built an ice race track. FAT is Ferdi Porsche's revival of the Austrian ice races at Zell am See, brought to America in 2024 in Aspen and this year, for the first time, to Montana: vintage racers, modern performance cars, and a new Rivian Quad-Motor R1S sliding around with all of them.

Big Sky was also where Rivian introduced the Rivian Adventure Department (RAD), the in-house crew tasked with pushing the limits of its vehicles (the 2023 Rebelle Rally win and two Pikes Peak records are theirs). But before RAD met FAT, I had a Rivian adventure of my own, which included an ad hoc troubleshooting department.