Sunrise in Sugarloaf, Maine.
Jamie Walter
The four-hour drive north of Boston leads to deeper into the thick forests of Western Maine, far away. With a “Moose Crossing” sign and a vintage A-frame ski chalet covered in a foot or two of snow, you suddenly see a huge ski mountain around the corner. It’s sugar loaf and searching the world like a 3D trail map. The view has been so arrested that locals call this “Oh my god!” corner. It is rare to take a picture of an entire ski mountain at a glance. In this case, it just happens to be Maine’s tallest ski mountain at 4,237 feet, and is a truly awe-inspiring sight.
Sugarloafs are scattered around the base, tucked into pockets of the woods and linked by several roads wide enough to handle the logging trucks that are frequently encountered in this part of the state. It is fixed in town.
Maine Sugarloaf.
Sugar loaf
Surrounded by the wilderness and just 37 miles from the border with Quebec, Sugarloaf is quirky and sturdy, despite being owned by the Boyne Resort (think Big Sky) since 2007. He is intensely independent. Of the largest resorts in the northeast, it has a 2,820-foot vertical drop, comparable to that of a Colorado copper mine. There is also the only lift-served Trilinski located east of Rocky Mountain.
As a ski mountain, I feel that Sugarloaf is very close to ski resorts in the western part of the country. Canada’s Rockies may be shining light on development surrounded by vast wilderness.
Arial view of Sugarloaf Resort.
Nathaniel Kay
For a long time, this mountain has had comfortable accommodations such as clusters of condominiums and townhouses, scattered private homes and Sugarloaf Mountain Inn. Apart from the base, the accommodation is hidden in a wooded area. This is a small mini community that feels private and quiet, and reminds me of the early days compared to most ski mountains in the northeast. Still, Sugarloaf isn’t without a luxurious touch, not when there’s the challenging Robert Trent Jones Jr., who designed the state’s best ranked 18-hole golf course.
West Mountain Expansion
Arial view of the Backsaw Express and West Mountain Expansion in Sugarloaf, Maine.
Nathaniel Kay
But as locals call it, “The Loaf” here has a change. A luxurious home neighbourhood called DutchmanWoods is rising around West Mountain expansion. This began in February 2024 and continued to open the newly opened Bucksaw Express Lift in stages.
At the beginning of several phases, Dutchman Woods released 20 home sites in 2024, with 17 signing contracts within a year. They have a wide view and a large crowd with plenty of privacy. The multi-million dollar home is already broken.
The West Mountain expansion is exciting. Because it offers skiing on a wide trail that makes you feel like something west. It’s as if you were transported to the Rockies, with panoramic views of the Bigelow Mountains and an overall large mountain vibe with the skiing experience. Your views will become clear in nearby Canada, with miles of snowy mountains. It’s a luxurious game that has been postponed for a long time at Sugarloaf. Those with deep pockets that love mountains have already stepped up.
You can see miles on Sugarloaf.
Sugar loaf
“20 Skebums, which founded the town in 1972, laid out the vision of an outdoor recreational economy achieved through creative investments.”
But the good news for traditionalists is that Sugarloaf is not at risk of losing the unique character that loyal skiers love it. For all the new glamour and charm that may come to the mountains, Sugarloaf is a real throwback, created by people who love to ski there, an organically grown ski mountain in the town, Carabaset Valley I did. In the town built by her new book, Skebums, Virginia M. Wright, a longtime author of Down East Magazine, said, “The two dozen Skebums that established the town in 1972 were achieved through creatives in the outdoor recreation economy. We laid out our vision. Investments and townspeople have since focused on pursuing that goal.”
She spends money and you can feel it every turn. As locals and ski loyalists are known, here between the “sugar loafers”, there is friendship, friendliness and community. It’s difficult to find in most ski towns today. Resort workers have tags with names that declare “(Please date it).)”. Locals and enthusiastic guests who have skied here for years have now reached their tenure in decades, with some of the sugar loafers having an outspoken ownership and commitment.
After a chilly morning with the perfect corduroy running, I found the feeling while drinking ski drinks in Bullwinkle, the Lodge of the Mountain Day, and Widowmaker’s loft. But it was most obvious in the rack, venerable ski bars and restaurants. There were countless rooms and clusters of artifacts glued to walls and ceilings, from surfboards and skis to lonely gondola cars, with live music and lively crowds. I remembered the theme song reservoir for cheers, “where everyone knows your name.” It’s loud and loud on busy nights, and it’s a throwback to the 1970s ski vibe. It also became a rare sight in 21st century North American ski resorts as an indicator of respect between Boyne’s corporate culture and the free-thinking locals who built the resort.