top of page

#52. Cross-country skiing in Maine: 30 Jan – 1 Feb 2025

bertrand006

Updated: 3 days ago

 

It would be the 13th annual cross-country skiing trip in Maine for Martha Ellis (my best friend from kindergarten in Ellsworth, Maine), her older sister Peg Stout, her college classmate Marty Grant, and me. To preempt the endless hours of discussions of “how many years have we been doing this?” Marty had sent the schedule of our history in advance.

2012 - Jan. 1-3; Poplar Stream Lodge and the icy walk. 

2013 – Jan. 3-5

2014 - Jan 2-4

2015  - Jan. 10-12

2016 - Jan. 3-5

2017 – Jan. 3-4

2018 - Jan. 2-4

2019 - Jan. 2-4

2020 - Jan. 2-4 (Maine H & T was closed, so we went to Carter's in Bethel, ME; Peg was not able to come)

2021 - No trip (Covid)

2022 - Jan. 6-8

2023 - Jan. 6-7; year of Martha’s dislocated elbow and delayed departure because of weather

2024 - Feb. 8-10; Jane unable to come (after the original trip in January got cancelled for lack of snow).

 

 

It’s always dicey to schedule a cross-country ski trip three months in advance, given how unpredictable snow has become, even in Maine. As our dates approached, we combed the Maine Huts and Trails website for information about their trail conditions. It was not encouraging. With little snow, the trails had not been groomed, and we would probably be reduced to snowshoeing. Ironically, New Orleans had just received 10” of snow, a historic record not equaled in 130 years.


Home Sweet Home: 570 Walnut St on January 23, 2025
Home Sweet Home: 570 Walnut St on January 23, 2025

But rescheduling the trip to accommodate four people was next to impossible, so we maintained our dates, packed both skis and snowshoes, and headed north to Maine Huts and Trails. Destination: Flagstaff Lodge, our base of operations since 2013.

 

The trip between Martha's house to the trailhead was some 70 miles, with the town of Farmington a midpoint destination. Of recent, the Orange Cat Café had become our go-to location for caffeine and sugar to fortify ourselves before the big adventure. It provided one final opportunity to check texts and emails since once at the Lodge, there would be no phone or internet service for 48 hours.


 

We were bolstered by the news that the area had gotten 3 to 4 inches of snow the previous day, which boded well for actually skiing. We didn’t have to worry about melting snow: the temperature ranged from 1 to 10° on our arrival day. In addition to excellent conditions, we were treated to a bluebird sky.


 

Less excellent was our physical condition, at least for two of the four. Martha had had a second knee replacement a mere four months earlier but did amazingly well to keep up with everyone else. I was still feeling protective (over-protective?) of my arthritic knee with a partially torn meniscus, for which I’d been in PT for the better part of 2024. It needed to continue functioning if I were to complete the remaining 27 excursions in my quest for 80 by age 80. Marty and Peg – our seniors by at least a year – were ailment-free.


The trailhead leading into Flagstaff Lodge
The trailhead leading into Flagstaff Lodge

 

Although Maine Huts and Trails offers the possibility of skiing between three huts (with luggage transported via ski-mobile by their staff), we had long since settled on skiing into Flagstaff, the middle lodge, and spending two nights there. We opted to ski in on the easier access road (service road) as we acclimatized to being on skis again; it took us 25 minutes from the trailhead parking lot to the lodge.


From left to right: Marty, Peg, Martha, and Jane
From left to right: Marty, Peg, Martha, and Jane

 

Flagstaff Lodge was exactly as we’d left it, with a large communal dining room, kitchen, library, drying room for garments and gear, showers, and composting toilets. Separate from the main building were several sets of dormitory-style rooms. We dumped our bags in the room, consumed our packed lunches, and warmed up with their bottomless service of coffee and tea. We then headed out for the afternoon ski, retracing our steps on the access road.


 

Night #1 was a Thursday, and we had the lodge to ourselves. We sat around a roaring fire in the dining room, trying to convince ourselves that Pinot Noir from a can was delicious. Three staff in their early 20s were responsible for running the operation, including making the meals. We devoured their homemade pizza, salad, and brownie dessert. We luxuriated in the tranquility of the setting, especially after learning that a group of 31 would be arriving the next day.




 

Once again, we had reserved room #8, which had four bunk beds. We each took our “usual station,” with a lower bunk for sleeping and an upper bunk for storing our belongings. In previous years the rooms could get quite cold, but the staff had the thermostat up to a balmy 55 degrees. Thanks to the wine, exercise, and total darkness (no exterior lights on the premises), we woke up – amazed that we’d all slept over 8 hours.

 

The program for Day 2 was once again to take mini excursions from the lodge before and after lunch. Martha and I stuck with skiing the access road in the morning, while Marty and Peg explored the more adventuresome trail through the woods. The grey clouds suggested that more snow was on its way, but the ski conditions remained excellent.


 

By noon, the group of 31 began to arrive. We learned that they had all used the same trainer since their kids were in strollers, and over the years these individuals had evolved into a community of like-minded 30-to-40-year-olds who enjoyed the outdoors. The group had done Maine Huts and Trails the previous year, though to Poplar Lodge. Most had left their kids with their husbands or grandparents and were feeling the liberation of a weekend on their own.


 

In the afternoon, we opted for walking over skiing, on a trail that took us along Lake Flagstaff and eventually into the woods. From previous years, we knew that the views would be spectacular: the unblemished snow blanketing the lake, birch trees silhouetted against the sky, and the Bigelow mountain range providing a blue-grey backdrop. We weren’t lucky enough to get the late afternoon glow of the sun, but the scenery was postcard quality.



 

By late afternoon, the lodge was swarming with people. They were friendly and curious about our “story” of returning year after year for this same trip. Their sense of freedom intensified with the libations purchased at the Lodge, and by dinner, the decibel level was deafening. The four of us discretely exchanged glances that said, “Never again.” We wondered out loud how the kitchen staff of three was going to serve this group of 35, plus four other guys who had wandered in after dark. My only regret of the trip: failing to snap a photo of this scene at the height of the boisterous chaos.  

 

We need not have feared. The dinner was delicious and plentiful: curried lentils over rice, cucumber salad, and lemon blueberry cake. As the women split into groups to chat, do a puzzle, or massage their muscles, we retreated to Room 8 for some peace and quiet.


 

On Day 3, we enjoyed a final breakfast, marveling again at the ability of the staff to produce hot, tasty food for such a large crowd. I introduced the idea of an alternative site for next year’s trip, assuming others might want to avoid a repeat of the mob scene we’d experienced the night before. Marty – whom I assumed was the most critical of the noise – was the first to reply: “Didn’t we decide we wanted to support this place?” Apparently, a good night’s sleep had done wonders to improve everyone’s attitude on this score.



 


Once the driver left for the parking lot with our knapsacks on his snowmobile, we followed him out on skis. It had snowed an additional 2-3 inches during the night, and the pine boughs along the access road were heavy with light, fluffy snow. The ground glistened as we glided along the path, wondering aloud if the snow conditions had ever been better. We were almost disappointed to reach the parking lot, which meant the end of this year’s trip. We found the cars buried in snow, but it was easy to brush off.


 

As we parted ways in our two separate cars, we congratulated ourselves on yet another superbly successful trip. Our gamble that we’d find reasonable snow had paid off beyond our wildest dreams. We’d managed to remain on our feet and injury-free, saving ourselves a trip to the Franklin Hospital Emergency Room in Farmington to repair any damage. The food had been excellent and the sleeping quarters warmer than in previous years. And after 13 years, we hadn’t begun to exhaust the list of topics we enjoyed discussing.


 

 ************

 

 

0 comments

Comments


bottom of page