Sticky snow, a helping hand and
a Vermont yak farm
…a friendly tale of
north-country connectedness

It all started a week ago in New Hampshire with two accumulating, thick and heavy clumps of wet snow beneath the middle third of my cross-country skis as I became increasingly bogged down heading uphill on an otherwise lovely New England ski trail.

I had accompanied my wife to the Balsams Wilderness Resort where she was participating in a certified alpine ski instructor update weekend in that beautiful and historic Dixville Notch setting.

Noting that the weekend activities at the resort was to also include a 30K classic cross-country ski race, and a 10K cross-country ski “tour” on part of the race course, I threw my nordic skis, boots and poles into the Subaru along with my downhill gear. The Saturday 10-kilometer event appealed to me, especially with its promise of rest-stops stocked with gourmet creations by the resort’s renowned chef and his staff.

I was among the skiers who were unprepared for the warm-weather snow conditions. Quite honestly, I had given up the fine art of waxing years ago when my old wooden skis gave way to a new pair of “waxless” skis. I was again reminded that I had been the victim of marketing slogans that leads one to ignore the fine print about possible waxing opportunities.

So, as I chugged up that first kilometer of trail, a very nice young mother and skier, Kate Williams, obviously a serious nordic skier, who had one of her and husband Rob’s two children skiing along just ahead of her, asked if I would like to use some of their “glide wax.” She felt my pain… or more exactly, saw my lack of proper ski preparation.

Knowing that there was no way I was going to make it to the first gourmet rest stop, much less to the finish of the remaining 9 kilometers of the tour… I gratefully accepted her empathetic offer.

The glide wax application enabled me to continue on… to fulfill my goal of making it to all four of the calorie-laden rest stops… as well as the finish line. The slowed parental pace in the interest of their kids’ skiing success enabled me to keep up with this young, and interesting couple.

The periodic on-trail conversations with Kate and Rob led me to learn that they were active in the Northern Forest Canoe Trail development, were avid nordic ski racers, and were going to be racing at the upcoming weekend’s (March 6) Rangeley Lakes Loppet 50K ski marathon… and to top it all off, I learned that they owned a yak farm in Vermont!

All three topics were of keen interest to me. I love canoes, and having paddled many days and miles in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness in Minnesota years ago, I have always been fascinated by the work done to re-establish the historic Native American canoe trail in New England that covers some challenging stretches from the Adirondacks to the northern tip of Maine. The fact that it runs through the Rangeley Lakes chain of waterways adds to my interest.

Secondly, I was committed to once again be a volunteer for the Rangeley Lakes Loppet this past weekend. We agreed that we would try to touch base at this fine local Rangeley area ski race. And thirdly, was the very interesting topic of yak farming in New England.

Having an abiding interest and experience in hiking, backpacking, and a bit of mountaineering… I have always devoured stories of Himalayan mountain conquests or attempted conquests… all of which involve reaching base camp thanks to a few good Sherpas, and a lot of good Himalayan yaks as pack animals. Little did I know that yaks were now being raised in North America primarily for their delicious, high quality (and relatively healthy) red meat… mostly in the West, and now in New England… more specifically, Kate and Rob’s “Steadfast Farm” and their Vermont Yak Company near Waitsfield, Vt.

I have since learned much more about yaks, and yak farming, thanks to their Web site www.vermontyak.com. I am also beginning my lobbying effort to get my lovely wife to agree to our ordering a few yak steaks from Kate and Rob’s farm… I have had buffalo-burgers in Colorado, caribou jerky in Alaska, and reindeer meat in Norway, so why not yak steaks from Vermont?

Fast forward to this past Saturday, and my duties at the race start “stadium” at the Rangeley Lakes Trails Center: While furiously writing down the bib numbers of the first wave of racers as they entered the start “corral” just before the firing of the starter’s gun, I heard one of the racers ask me if I had any “glide wax” she could borrow.

For a millisecond I thought to myself, “doesn’t this racer know that I am hopelessly busy writing down a hundred bib numbers in the last minute or two before the start, and besides, is this the time to ask for ski wax from a harried volunteer with a clipboard?” As I looked up, I saw the friendly, smiling face of Kate… and her way of pausing to say “Hi” to her hopelessly unprepared “tour” colleague from a week ago in Dixville Notch. Her friendly, smiling face was an exceedingly welcome diversion from my clipboard and its hastily scribbled numbers.

Later in the day, at the awards ceremony, I was equally pleased to hear Kate’s name being called to accept her second-place, age-category medal for the 50K race (that’s about 30-35 miles, my friends…).

I have burned into my mind’s-eye, the beautiful wave starts on this crystal clear day at the Trails Center… colorful racing suits, with crimson bib numbers on their backs, and Saddleback’s ridge-line and alpine trails in the distance. This mind’s-eye image is the best I have to offer, since I unforgivably forgot to bring my camera! Take my word for it… it was a beautiful day, and an impressive set of athletic racing-start images.

However, I do offer the image of a sun-expanded line of fox or coyote tracks in the otherwise undisturbed snow on Gull Pond as they intersect the wonderful groomed-tracks around the pond provided by fellow pond “year-rounder” Bill Britain and his aging snowmobile. The 3.5 mile exercise lap around the pond is something I have treasured this winter, and Bill’s excellent homemade groomer attachment has added much to the experience.

All of the above speaks of the many fine folks who have chosen to make northern New England their home, thus creating a rich sense of community that really doesn’t need to be explained to the upcountry readers of The Original Irregular. Am I not correct?

“We need to write, otherwise nobody will know who we are.” Garrison Keillor

Per usual, your thoughts and comments are welcome. Jot them down on a sturdy piece of parchment, and wrap it around a tube of SWIX Glide Wax and drop them off inside the log door of our mudroom on the west shore of Gull Pond, or simply launch an email towards allenwicken@ yahoo.com.