Spruce Mountain, Jay ME

This is it. This is the real deal. If you want to experience what it was really like in the early days of downhill skiing you must go to Spruce Mountain. The only way to the top of the hill is to take 3 rope tows (4 if you start from the parking lot).

At the first rope tow I asked the attendant if she knew of any tricks to riding the rope tow gracefully. Her reply, "don't know, never tried."

I lined up, reached down and picked up the rope and was immediately yanked away but not for long. I soon dropped the rope and attempted to skate away from the burly beast to the next "lift."

Lined up again, reached down and picked up the row and was whisked away in a most startling manner. The track was rough and pitted with lines that were starting to harden. I was grateful when it was time to drop the rope again. To get to the next lift I had to slide down an icy gully and skate up to the final rope tow.

It was rather weird. The rope was slithering away but not a soul in sight. Guess it was self serve. So I lined myself up for a third time, reached down and attempted to lift the heavy rope. And was it heavy! My arms ached as I was pulled up the hill. It took all the strength I could muster to not let go and end the torture. Finally the end was in sight.

Although the slopes were probably groomed in the morning, the late afternoon chill was hardening what was left of the corduroy into a teeth rattling experience. Back to the third rope for another lift to the top. This time I discovered the secret of rope tows: position yourself immediately behind a tall person and you will have a delightful ride up the mountain as he or she does all the heavy lifting of the rope.

As I made my way down the slope, I admired the view of a big mill on the river. Then, with aching arms and scuffed mittens, I called it a day.

p.s. I believe I was the only adult skier on the slope.