The Maine Connection: A Snowy Hut-to-Hut Adventure

Words by Trevor Browne, photos by Trevor Browne and Louise Philipovitch

When I started bikepacking over 15 years ago, I would have never imagined where my bike would take me. Embarking across deserts, mountains, and valleys, I still get surprised by what I discover and how I connect with the land and the people I meet and learn from along the way. It’s these connections that keep me coming back for more. This year would lead me to a new encounter of a slightly different sort: encounters on a fat bike that would lead me to explore places blanketed by snow and ice. I had dabbled in winter travel on skis, but not so much on a bike, and no more than a dozen kilometers at a time.

• 
• 

It was January, and our ambassador crew of seven from Panorama Cycles had been emailing back and forth for weeks to get everything organized for a three-day fat bikepacking trip in Maine. All we wanted to do was get out of the city and enjoy riding our bikes in the snow. The plan was to plod around in the snow for 5 to 25 miles through Northern Maine’s beautiful Carrabassett Valley and take advantage of their backcountry hut system for sleeping at night. The concept of hut travel has been around in Europe, Canada, and the United States for a while, but there are few hut networks appropriate for multi-day fat bike adventures in the winter months.

Fortunately, with a little digging, the folks at Panorama Cycles managed to find one close to our home base in Montreal, Quebec. The Maine Huts and Trails system is a shared trail system that caters to backcountry skiers, snowshoers, and yes, even fat bikers. This vast network offers over 130 kilometers of free public trails, nearly 80 of which are accessible by fat bike. On top of that, there are three huts—much larger and more comfortable than the name “hut” would suggest—that cater to folks wanting to take unique adventures. The huts have fireplaces, warm showers, chefs, and all the craft beer you’d want after spending six hours (or more) riding a loaded bike with tires pumped up to 3 PSI. Because you spend your nights on cozy bunk beds in these huts, you don’t need to carry a stove or shelter on your bike. The only thing required is a sleeping bag, some extra clothes, snacks, and camera gear. Plus, the amazing part is that the Maine Huts are carbon neutral. The impressive heating and efficient composting systems run on solar or hydro power, creating low emissions.

• 
• 

I would be cycling with other fine folks from Panorama who have cycled around the world, competed in races, and gone places where bikes haven’t been before. We were about to embark on an unforgettable adventure amid the snow-covered valleys, exploring frozen waterfalls and cruising around lakes along the way. There’s something unique about riding with like-minded people for a few days, doing what we love. Everyone has their different gifts and with this group, we all contributed in our special way. But, for me, I needed a mental lift. I was looking to get inspired. Inspired to create, to be present and reconnect, to get back in touch with people and the land.

Hut to hut to hut

Think of winter hut travel by fat bike like a slow style of bike touring through a forest covered in a few feet of snow in sub-zero temps. The trails, in this case, are groomed and packed by the guardians of the hut system regularly, so they are relatively smooth. In our case, there was 15 centimeters of snow predicted to fall the day we left. This would make things interesting in the days to come.

• 
• 
• 

After all our planning, departure days finally arrived, and we were gathered around the Stratton Brook Trailhead in the rugged northwestern portion of Maine. The temperature was hovering near 0ºC, almost too warm to be setting off on a dream route of hut-to-hut fat bikepacking for three days. After an hour of preparing and packing our bikes, we headed out for three days to find that reconnection and heed the siren call of these snowy Maine mountains to see what all the fat bike excitement was about and experience the trail (and hut) magic firsthand.

• 
• 

Snow was falling in big fluffy flakes and almost instantly melting on our skin. It was calm, though, and we watched the trees sway in a slight breeze. Standing in the parking lot waiting for the others to arrive, we all exchanged stories of our other biking adventures. I tend to be a listener and not so much a talker in groups, so it was nice to get to know the others better by hearing about their exploits. It was stimulating to hear how far they have pushed themselves in their adventures and experiences. It inspired g me to dream up future adventures of my own. Eventually, the others arrived, and we all set out assembling our bikes up and strapping on our various bags. I loved looking through my camera’s viewfinder as everyone was getting ready. People were laughing and smiling, giving tips, and lending a hand to make sure we were all rolling safely.

I had set out a bit ahead of everyone to find a good surprise shot of them coming around a corner on the trail. It was impossible not to get a good shot. Everyone passed by, with massive smiles on their faces, whooping and hollering. Something about rolling through a snow-covered forest bouncing around on big fat wheels transported us back in time to when we were kids hitting the trails on our bikes. The happiness was contagious.

Flat and winding trails soon led to narrower trails climbing uphill, with the grades getting steeper and steeper as we entered the Bigelow Range. Smiles turned more into concentrated looks. Our goal was to reach Stratton Brook Hut to gain some nice views and maybe have a beer, even though it was a bit out of our way to make it to our evening destination at Poplar Stream Falls Hut. The snow was getting heavier and heavier, which made the trip more magical but also more difficult. A few hike-a-bikes and switchbacks later, we made it to our destination, greeted by a plump snowman getting bigger by the minute. The views had disappeared because of the storm’s cloud cover, and the beer wasn’t being served. We were a little disappointed, but we didn’t let it get us down. We still had about 13 kilometers to go, but all that climbing we did earlier meant we would have some nicely flowing downhill sections ahead of us.

• 
• 
• 

This is where I made my first big mistake. I’m a pretty good mountain biker, so I wasn’t too worried about the downhill, and I knew to trust my bike. But there was one big thing I didn’t think about. Because the trails were groomed, they were nicely packed, but once you went off the trail, there was about two feet of unpacked snow. It didn’t occur to me that a person would quickly sink into that snow if they went off the trail. I could see some backcountry skiers coming up the trail, so I thought it would be best if I gave them space, and they did the same. Their skis kept them on top of the snow, but my tires did not. As soon as I slightly veered off the trail, I did an endo deep into the snow, flying over my bars like Superman. I hit the snow hard, knocking the air out of my lungs. I got up quickly and made sure the skiers were alright, but I think they were more concerned about me. Luckily, nothing was damaged except for my pride. I laughed it off and kept cruising down and never again did I veer off the trail at high speeds.

The afternoon faded into the evening as we rolled down the Carrabassett River Valley. Sunlight was replaced by headlamps, and we had one final stretch of uphill to get to our destination for the night. We all rolled at our own pace, trickling into the Poplar Stream Falls Hut just before dinner time. The thing I soon realized is that fat bikes require a huge amount of physical energy to propel through all the powdery snow. We were constantly spinning more than we would on normal bikes, and our legs were feeling the effort even though we had only gone about 25 kilometers.

Our day was challenging, but here’s where the hut system shined. Instead of having to set up camp and start up the stove on a cold winter’s night, there was a welcoming hut waiting for us, complete with warm showers, cold beer, and a roaring fire. By “hut,” I don’t mean a tiny refuge warmed by a wood stove. Think of it more as an off-grid eco-lodge complete with food and drink and linked to warm cabins with bunk beds. As the hut crew grooved to Bruce Springsteen and crafted our meals in the kitchen, we melted into our seats with a local brew.

• 
• 

• 
• 
• 

Our cheeks were aglow from the day’s efforts, and we connected around the family-style table, recounting tales from the day’s adventures. Poke bowls were on the menu, and we were thankful to have a great spread served to us by such warm and generous people. Afterward, we took a tour of the basement, where all the eco magic happens—solar power banks, hydropower harnessed from a nearby stream, wood heat, a composter named Clivus, and a recycling program made this system one of the most impressive off-grid cabins we had ever seen. Sleep soon followed us as our heads hit the pillow and we drifted off in our sleeping bag cocoons.

What goes up must come down

We awoke to a magical white wonderland the next morning as the snow had slowly accumulated all night. This would make the trails challenging for the next day’s ride but in a good way. With our next destination of Flagstaff Lake Hut only about 16 kilometers away, we had plenty of time to explore what the area had to offer. After the staff served us a nice warm breakfast and made us paper bag lunches complete with a sandwich, fruit, and a classic homemade whoopee pie, we packed our bags on our bikes. We managed to stop every few kilometers to take in beautifully frozen waterfalls, meadows blanketed in fresh powder, and tall pines quietly creaking and swaying in the breeze. So far, the trails weren’t bad, if a little on the soft side, but a long uphill ahead proved to be the biggest challenge of the ride.

• 
• 
• 

There was a yurt halfway to our destination, a perfect stop to eat our lunch. Normally, it should have only taken half an hour to get there, but a groomer hadn’t passed through this area for a couple of days, and the conditions were getting softer and softer. We ended up letting a bunch of air out of our chunky tires; somewhere around 2-3 PSI seemed to be the sweet spot. We tried to ride as much as we could, but walking seemed to be faster. Balancing at those slow speeds seemed to be tricky, and as we tumbled over, we ended up getting swallowed by the deep powder. Lending each other a hand, we pulled one another out of the deep snowbanks. By the time we reached the top of the summit, we were all drenched in sweat. Our efforts were soon rewarded at the peak by reaching a tiny yurt that already had a fire burning in the stove lit by the previous visitors. Guzzling down our water and wolfing down our prepared lunches, we assembled around the stove trying to dry off. Laughing and chatting and connecting soon ensued, and we were ready to tackle the remaining trail that plunged us down to Flagstaff Lake.

• 
• 

The word “flow” came to mind when rolling down the hill: just letting go and hitting that sweet spot of effort, skill, and speed. My first instinct while heading down the steep, powdery track was to brake. But by watching the other skilled riders in front, I soon learned the less you try to be in control, the more you can flow down. Just trust the bike. We were connecting to something deeper. It was like carving down a slope on skis. The clouds briefly cleared as we cruised down, revealing the lake in the valley below. The beautiful descent blew my mind. Another snowstorm soon swooped into the valley bottom, though, and we were enveloped in white again.

We arrived at Flagstaff Hut early in the day with daylight to spare. After checking in, we decided to explore the manmade lake, the fourth largest in Maine. Surrounded by the Bigelow Range, we watched the approaching storm encroach the windswept lake. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing around in the snow, sipping on frosty Quebec gin from our flasks. Again, it was about creating new connections with each other and with the world around us that made this moment so memorable. It wasn’t about being “epic” or extreme. It was about connecting to our basic needs to be creative, play, laugh, converse, and soak in the world around us.

• 
• 

The rest of the trip seemed to echo that sentiment. The more time we spent exploring the Maine wilderness by fat bike, the more we shared a part of ourselves with the rest of the crew. Sharing a meal, sitting around a fire, or doing puzzles together by the light of headlamps, we all came away from that trip connecting more with each other and our environment. That’s what makes biking special. That’s what all the hype is about.

• 
• 

Bikepacking Huts & Trails Video

In addition to my written account of our time on the trail, filmmaker Yanouk Paquette from the Perdons les Pédales YouTube channel shot and edited a 13-minute video from our trip that offers a different perspective on the experience. You can watch it below (in French with English subtitles) if you’d like a deeper look at our winter adventure. Thank you, Yanouk!

Further Reading

Make sure to dig into these related articles for more info...