When I left Portland last Friday afternoon bound for some Vermont skiing, not a flake was to be seen. Despite the steel gray skies and damp chill in the air, the predicted storm lingered offshore somewhere.

Up Route 26 to Bethel. Still nothing. Across Route 2 to Gorham NH. Nada.

Hmmm.

The day's last light cast a glow over the lower flanks of the Prezzies, their peaks shrouded in clouds, as the Honda--loaded to the gills with skis, snowshoes, clothes, food and beer--chugged up the big hill to Jefferson.

Down the other side, past Santa's Village and Six Gun City, and on into Lancaster and...

SNOW!

A flake here, another there. Woo-hoo! The storm had followed me!

By the time I cruised the length of the main drag and made the familiar turn onto Railroad St. and into the yard of my pals' house, the snow was falling steadily.

Over the next hour, as my friends from afar trickled into the yard, the gentle snow wafted down.

And continue it did, throughout our night of revelry--our Nth "Big Chill" reunion of UMaine college friends--until six glorious inches lay atop the cars in the morning light.

Six inches of powder snow on the car--finally!
All photos by Carey Kish

Pots of coffee disappeared, stacks of sandwiches got made, warm clothes were donned and ski racks geared up. Off into the morning sun and cold we went, across the state line to Vermont and New England's best kept skiing secret--Burke Mountain.

Burke Mountain has a surprising 2,000 feet of vertical.

The upper mountain was a winter wonderland after the storm.

My Burke ski pals: Petey, Ralfy, Dave and Patty.

Fresh, fluffy powder blanketed the ungroomed slopes as we licked our lips and clicked into our skis. The new Sherburne Express quad chair whisked us up the lower beginner slopes, and after a short ski to the mid-Burke base we were again headed to the summit on the old familiar quad.

The mountain was a winter wonderland, the trees coated with white. Skiers hushed down beneath us, no scraping on any ice to be heard.

And from the top, again and again and again, we skied the narrow, wooded and winding trails that characterize Burke: Powderhorn and Wilderness, Big Dipper and Deer Run, Willoughby and Bears Den.

No trip to Burke would be complete without a swoop down the steeps and bumps of Doug's Drop, so we did (well, Ralfy and I did anyway--the others pooped out!). Fabulous.

And the crowds on this Saturday? Well, there weren't any. Never are. I don't know why and I don't care. I only know the place continues to draw enough people to operate every year and that's what matters.

The new owners have sunk some bucks into lodge renovations and the new quad, and have cut some fine new glades. Things look good. Bravo and thanks.

Ralfy showing off in the terrain park.

Looking out over fields and forests toward the impressive notch of Lake Willoughby.

One of the best kept secrets in New England skiing (shhh!!!)

A fine, full day's skiing under our belts, we retired to The Pub in the Sherburne Lodge for a couple pints while lounging on leather couches and chairs.

A big family-style dinner of lasagna, salad and garlic bread awaited us at Big Chill Central back in Lancaster, so we hit the road to rejoin our non-skiing friends.

Yet another fun evening followed, with a Maine-UNH hockey game on the tube, a wide variety of cocktails poured and consumed, and multiple trips to and from the hot tub made.

Sleep came easy. And after a big breakfast Sunday morning and more lazing about with these--some of my very best friends in the world--we were road-bound, already with plans for next summer ("Big Deck" and something about a wedding) and next winter's get-together.

Plenty o' lasagna for the hungry Big Chill crowd.

Dinnah with the Big Chill gang.

Big Chill R&Ring in the hot tub. Ahhh!

I hope that your weekend was just as much fun. How was the skiing over this way? Good snow?

Have you ever checked out Burke Mountain and its fun downhill and x-c skiing? If not, give it a try. It's a nice change from our home mountains and the scenery is awesome.