Sugarloaf a week ago. Sunday River this past weekend. It's high ski season and all is good with the world. Well, in Maine anyway.

It was cooooooold up at the Loaf! The thermometer at the Widow's Walk in Stratton, where I was staying with a group of friends, recorded -35F. Ouch! Fortunately, we were all pretty warm and snug inside with the fireplace going and the electric blankets turned way up. Four out of five cars even started. Not bad.

Trail conditions on the mountain were excellent, for what was open anyway. Sugarloaf could sure use a few more good dumps of snow. On the crosscut from the top of the Spillway chairlift all the way over to Widowmaker at King Pine Bowl, that wasn't a single open trail, which really surprised me. I don't know that I've ever seen that happen in late January.

But no matter. The skiing was good and everybody was into it. And luckily, there was little or no wind, so we were pretty comfortable. And the brown ale and mountain chili was as good as ever in The Bag, topping off a fine day.

Hunkering down at the Widow's Walk was a real treat (thanks Nancy, for arranging everything). Jerry and Mary, the innkeepers, are great folks and make you feel right at home, with the dog and the cats and all. I was sad to learn, though, that they will no longer will be taking in AT thru-hikers during hiking season. AT hikers are a transient bunch for sure, and they've come to realize it's just a bit too much to keep up with.

On Sunday morning the TV weather reports blurted out ominous warnings about a snowstorm soon to be raging across southern Maine that would rival the "Storm of the Century." "Don't drive." "Stay where you are." "Keep the women and children indoors." (Well, maybe not that last thing). Geez. How bad could it be? But I bought into it. Instead of skiing I decided on a quick hike, then I would "brave" the drive home.

So I tested out my new MSR snowshoes on a short 2-mile jaunt along the AT from Route 27 to the Stratton Brook Pond Rd. The shoes have a funky harness system that works okay over the boot top, but not so well around the heel of the shoe. They stayed on for my walk, but I'll have to do some tinkering before I head out on the next big trip.

It was a beautiful day for a woods walk...bright sun, blue sky, temps in the 20s. You'd never have guessed that a crazy snowstorm was raging a few miles to the south. Turns out that the drive back to Portland that afternoon wasn't bad at all. Too much hype, dammit.

I was a true slothy season pass skier this past Sunday. Slept through my alarm. Missed a wake up call from a friend. No biggie. I cooked a nice breakfast and hit the road sometime after 9. Ahhh... There was virtually no skier traffic at that hour, so it was open road! WBLM (the 70s at 7) blared on the radio and coffee charged through my system. No complaints here. I was taking my first run at fine hour of 11AM. You got a problem with that? Not me.

I tried to catch up with my ski friends the entire afternoon, to no avail. Tempest chair, Barker triple, Barker quad. Spruce. Nobody. A quick stop into North Peak Lodge. Still nobody. Aurora, Oz, Jordan. Nada.

The skiing was fantastic. And skiing solo does have some upsides. There were no decisions to make, so I could just go wherever. I like that, although I did miss my pals. I did get to meet some cool people, too: An art therapist from Portland, a UNUM insurance rep from Chattanooga with the sweetest Tennessee accent, a wildman banker from Boston. It was fun.

I should have known. When all else fails, where will my friends be? At the Sunday River Brew Pub. Good to know there's some things you can always count on.

Skiers have odd ways of communicating, don't they?!

This coming weekend... Burke Mountain, Vermont. Oh yeah!