I ran the wonderful single track of the Leavitt Plantation for four hours this morning. It was a beautiful sunny warm day and I felt like I had the entire forest to myself. Much of the enjoyment for me is exploring the area and trying to figure out how all the trails and roads fit together. I am also always on the look out for trails I haven't found yet. I could easily spend an entire day out there and never get bored. I feel so fortunate to have so much of the woods and trails in this part of Maine open for public use, yet not advertised or formalized. I never saw a soul, except for a bunch of turkeys and a few deer.




But... there was someone out there with me. This track was not there on my first pass through. Barefoot mountain man perhaps?



This is typical of the footing out there. But it is a lot hillier than this photo shows!

PIZZAAAAAAAAAAA!

Cross country ski conditions in East Burke are terrible right now. They had sled dog races on the trails last week and a big organized mountain bike ride on the trails yesterday. Imagine all this on a light base to begin with. So what was a cross country skier to do while in East Burke this weekend? How about downhill skiing for the first time in 25 years? Somehow, the idea seemed like a good one while sitting in the Tamarack after several beers last night. This morning I wasn't feeling quite as bold.

Kevin told me, "it's simple. When you want to go faster, think french fries, skis parraellel and straight ahead. When you want to go slow, think pizza, ski tips together making a wedge like a slice of pizza." I spent all day on the mountain thinking pizzaaaaaaa!!!!!.

With temperatures in the fifties, very few people on the slopes, and a beautiful veiw of Willoughby Gap, I fell in love with Alpine Skiing in a matter of minutes. I had sworn it off because of crowds, lift lines, clear cut swatches down mountains, condos, and designer clothes. Well, I never skied Burke Mountain before! There were mostly locals on the mountain. Nobody seemed to have an attitude and the slopes weren't crowded at all. It doesn't hurt that when we walked into the Tamarack at the end of our skiing, Tamara knew what we wanted to drink before our butts hit the bar stools, and the French Onion Soup was the best I've ever had. What a fun day! I can't wait for next time. I hope to be able to think, French Friiiiiiiiies!!!! instead of pizza next time out.