Charlie Woodworth didn’t take the helm of Maine Huts & Trails to sit behind a desk. He knows these trails in western Maine like the back of his hand, as he showed Lisa and me on Day Three while riding the 11 miles over to the Flagstaff Hut. We would soon learn that he also happens to be a helluva biker, taking the roots, rocks, and turns easily and offering pedaling pointers for us along the way. Much of the land we would be traversing today is part of the Penobscot Indian Reservation, including our first leg, the Sticky Trail, a technical singletrack through a forest of hemlocks.
As we rode, Charlie gave me an update on the progress of this non-profit organization. They currently have 1450 members and their dues go straight to trail maintenance. 4 of the eco-lodges have been built and they plan to continue with construction southwest of the first hut we visited, Stratton Brook Hut, towards Rangeley. Their ultimate goal is to have 12 backcountry huts over 180 miles of trails all the way north to Baxter State Park. Judging from Charlie’s passion and perseverance, along with all the enthusiastic MH&T staffers I met along the way, I have no doubt they’ll achieve that goal.
We said goodbye to Charlie at the Flagstaff Hut, snagged one of Megan Costello’s heavenly chocolate chip cookies, and exchanged mountain bikes for an Old Town canoe. We were surprised to find that we’d be paddling with a frog that was camping out in the canoe. Canoeing along the shores of Flagstaff Lake, the 4th largest lake in Maine, the mighty ridge of the 4,000-foot Bigelow Mountains soon came into view. Adding to the allure was a bald eagle that flew overhead. The waters were even more magical that evening when we watched a perfect orb of a reddish-orange sun set in the notch between Blanchard Mountain and Pickled Chicken Hill. Living the dream.
Unlike many New England ski areas, where all amenities are found on a road leading to the mountain resulting in the look of a strip mall, Stowe grew up around a 240-year-old Vermont village. The charm of skiing Stowe is that you can leave the mountain behind and stroll down Main Street (Route 100) past the requisite white steeple atop Stowe Community Church or go inside Shaw’s General Store, open since 1895, to purchase a flannel shirt. Then there’s the Green Mountain Inn, a former stagecoach stop that’s been in operation since 1833. Thankfully, the chef at their restaurant, The Whip, is relatively new and straight outta Texas. Man, can he cook meat! I ordered the veal cheeks, braised like brisket, and so tender and moist it cut like butter. Jake ordered a gorgonzola-topped filet mignon, also tender and tasty. We topped it off with their signature dessert, sac d’ bon bon, a tower of chocolate mousse that we devoured almost instantaneously. One of the best meals I’ve had in Stowe in a long time. 
A number of Maine inns offer a warm winter welcome for those in need of a weekend getaway. Start with 
I was happy to hear this week that 
Say ta-ta to the treadmill and sprint on over to the Esplanade, the beginning of a 17-mile paved greenway that lines the Charles River. Boston loves its jogging so don’t be surprised to see runners here year-round. Better yet, get on the Charles and paddle along the Harvard crew team. 
First started in 1750, Halifax’s