My Favorite Maine Runs & What They Mean to Me

Winterguide, 1999

 

We’ve always wanted to ask three-time Olympian and Auburn, Maine, native Julie Parisien to describe the 5 or 10 favorite ski runs she loves in Maine and tell us why they’re her favorites. But she’s been so busy with the U.S. Ski Team (barely noticed by local media, Julie was America’s top Olympic slalom competitor last year at Nagano, Japan, finishing 13th) it’s been hard to slow her down long enough to ask her. But once we learned ”I’m planning a move back to Portland this winter to finish my education, probably at the University of Southern Maine,” we couldn’t wait any longer and caught up with her while she was packing her bags at her Cutler, Illinois, home in preparation for returning to her stomping grounds.

Often Julie’s bursts of speech are so energetic, so vivid, it’s extraordinarily like skiing down the runs with her. At other times, her descriptions of the trails she loves are poignant, powerful – a unique way of looking at a wonderful life. As Julie puts it, “Some of my favorite Maine ski runs are memorable to me simply because they’re challenging. Others bring back feelings, people, stories. Sometimes I can actually feel the presence of people I love when I’m skiing.” And then there’s the tree Julie sees whenever she’s driving up Route 26 on the way to the summit at Sunday River. The tree she hates so much “I want to go up there and cut it down.”

Was there one childhood run that’s unforgettable for you, where you really started to realize you weren’t the average skier?
Sure. I have 5 or so great ones I can describe. But the one at Lost Valley that was sort of a milestone was Suicide. It was usually closed because of either not enough coverage or rough conditions, so it always had this aura of fear around it. Everyone I knew was always scared to run on Suicide, so the older kids, who were 14 or 15, would always say, “Oh, did you go on Suicide? Did you go down Suicide?” When I made it down Suicide at age 6, it was impressive because I was still one of the little kids and I had made it down the toughest run at Lost Valley, so I became part of that group of kids who felt a little bit extra special.

Take us down Suicide at Lost Valley. What do you see ahead?
You get off the chair and you tum to the left. Suicide runs down the outside of the mountain. It’s sort of nice and rolling at the top, just a little bit of a pitch, just nice and wide open and rolling, so you think, oh this won’t be that bad. Then you turn to the left down this corner, and it just drops off underneath you. It’s literally like you’re going to go flying off this cliff. It’s just the dropoff that instilled so much fear in every child. It was only 4 or 5 turns, but man, it was scary.

Back then, what was the best apres skiing for a 6-year-old? Did you always find a cup of cocoa? The best thing about Lost Valley is it had these stone fireplaces. You could take your boots off and hang your socks up over the mantel and kind of sit around the grate, just like an oldfashioned ski lodge. But the video games, the video games were just it. I mean this was in the late 1970s when video games were starting to come out, and we’d play Asteroids like crazy. It was Asteroids and Centipede and some other early ones like that.

What did you like to eat?
Food was just, I mean, pig out on fried dough; they used to have fried dough back at Lost Valley, french fries, and hot dogs.

Did you ever have to give aid?
My dad is the hero. Once a woman had a heart attack at Lost Valley and fell out of the lift chair at the top. My dad happened to be there because we were racing. He went up and gave CPR and got the woman in the ambulance. It’s the only memory I have of something drastic like that happening. Personally, I’ve stopped and helped so many skiers get up and get going over the years that nothing in particular stands out.

Was there any time when you found yourself skiing at night when it wasn’t a planned event? When you got caught out there?
At Sugarloaf on the days when it wasn’t cold but the lifts closed at 4 o’clock, we’d stay up at the top and hide from the Ski Patrol until it was 5:30 or so and then ski down in the dark. Lost Valley luckily stayed open until midnight. Some of my fondest memories are of late-night skiing. That was so much fun. Skiing at 11 o’clock at night just feeling like a derelict – like a total delinquent out there – with the older kids, the high school kids, and we were bombing around everywhere, little ten-year-olds.

When you were skiing in the pitch black at Sugarloaf on the unlit trails, was that like being in a sensory deprivation tank?
Oh, it was so much fun. It was such a thrill! You know, after training as a ski racer and skiing day in and day out, to do something different like that was such a thrill. It was totally exhilarating, and it’s something that I wish I could do more of now. You know, it’s always hard as an adult to find the right places to hide from the Ski Patrol. I always seem to get busted if there’s something that I want to do if it’s not following the rules. So I’m going to try it a few times this winter and see if I can get away with it.

That sneaking-in feeling is a thing you lose, growing up, isn’t it? But it’s a great feeling.
It was so much fun and we’d be screaming all the way down. It was great.

Is there another run at Lost Valley you’d like to talk about?
Maine has the best names for ski trails, and one of my favorites is Squirrel. That was one of the first ones we skied down. If you can master Squirrel, you’re able to go over the whole mountain. And Squirrel was always kind of neat because my dad always used to call me Squirrel. It was my nickname when I was little. That always was kind of neat to me, that I would ski down the trail that was my nickname. At Mt. Abram, they name their trails after a few different things. I really like Boris Badinov trail, named after the Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon character.

We’re standing at the top of Mt. Abram. Can you take us down?
It’s really quite flat on the top, then it has a few steep, surprising pitches. The views are terrific. It’s a very, very nice trail. We had a Pro Race there a few years ago.

Where are we now?
We’re halfway down. It’s just a great cruising trail, really good for giant slalom turns. It’s really the highlight of the whole mountain.

Is there a place where you go skiing to look for the real Julie Parisien? A place you enjoy skiing privately?
When I was very young it was at Sunday River at the Agony and Ecstasy. It was kind of a showoff trail underneath the chair lifts. It had bumps and it was just gnarly and messy and people were cracking up everywhere. I’d go and I’d ski on that and I’d feel – yeah! People would cheer from the chairlift and it was a total showoff trail. There I began to realize I had an extra special ability to overcome injuries or adversity. This helped me at the 1992 Olympics, in Albertville, France. I was really skiing well and was expected to do really well when two weeks before I knocked out some teeth and then broke my wrist. I had to fly home to get a cast put on and then fly back. I’m proud that I was able to come back and actually do as well as I did – I was fourth or fifth. It was a really big turning point for me because to be that injured and to be that down two weeks before and then to come back and have two of the best races, and then, the very next (World Cup) race after the Olympics, I won, so that whole two-week span taught me so much as an athlete.

In Maine, was there ever a time when you were not recognized and possibly underestimated by a fellow skier? I’m sure guys hang around lodges and think they’re the best thing around…
AII the time. It happens all the time. I mean there are so many stories I could tell you. Riding up the chairlift with some totally tricked out masters racer who has all the best equipment money can buy, all the best clothing, you know, just totally tricked out and talking, talking, and talking the whole way up the lift. I’m in my subdued clothes, no U.S. Ski Team stuff, just, you know, being a casual skier, and then finally, at the top of the lift, he’ll say, “So, did you ever race?” I’ll go through my whole humble pie spiel and just totally floor the guy. And I love that, because by the time he gets off the chair, buckles his boots, and starts down the run, he’s so intimidated he can’t even ski anymore. I think that’s priceless.

So we really do set ourselves up.
Oh, big time. Big time. I love all skiers because they’re so excited about skiing. They’re enthusiastic about the sport, and, you know, we need people like that in skiing.

Have you ever known a young aspiring skier whom you recognized as talented early on and who later went on to some celebrity in skiing and checked in with you later?
Well, yeah. Bode Miller from New Hampshire is a good example. He’s the best skier on the U.S. Men’s team right now. I ran into him about 4 years ago at a pro race at Cannon Mountain, and he was forerunning. I watched him ski, and I thought, you know, this kid’s got something. You know, he’s definitely got something good here. I talked with him for a little while and I actually stayed at his mom’s resort. They own a tennis and ski lodge at Cannon Mountain. I got to know him a little bit, raced with him, and beat him, and he made the US team the next year! It’s been fun to watch him progress.

Any stories about Shawnee Peak?
I remember Shawnee Peak as Pleasant Mountain. The main trail on the mountain is a beautiful trail with a beautiful view. I hate the name Shawnee Peak. It’s just an awful name.

Maine’s having some trouble with some of its ‘Indian’ names, so maybe it’ll be changed anyway. And since Shawnees come from the Ohio River basin, it never was appropriate by anybody’s standard.
We’ll see what happens, I hope. Pleasant Mountain was such a nice name, and the trail is so much fun. It’s a perfect fall line trail. You can just, you know cruise down it. It’s not emphasized enough in their advertising.

Can you actually see the Atlantic Ocean from the Camden Snow Bowl?
Camden? On a good day, I think you can. But on a good day you can from Sugarloaf, too, I think. Years ago I skied at Camden. I don’t remember it, though. I do remember Saddleback between Sugarloaf and Stratton. It’s a really fun mountain, it’s just that it’s really cold. My family and I would race there a lot when we were younger. I remember one race where we had to wear duct tape on our faces because it was so cold. We put tons of vaseline on our faces and strapped duct tape over the vaseline so we wouldn’t get frostbite.

Have you seen a lot of animals?
Tons. I mean moose are like a dime a dozen in the Maine mountains. You see them everywhere. I’ve seen a lot of foxes. I’ve seen a lot of varmints, little moles and little things like that, scurrying around – I don’t know exactly what they are! Lots of squirrels. And out in British Columbia, lots of bears.

When have you been angry skiing?
Sugarloaf has some awesome trails. It’s just a great mountain with old-fashioned traditional runs which are pretty narrow – more so than most other areas in Maine. Narrow Gauge, their premiere trail, in particular, is fun. A lot of races are held there. But there’s a place on it called the Head Wall, and of course, everyone wants to challenge themselves there and try to go over it without stopping and everything. When you’re on your cruising run, you get to the Head Wall and there are probably 50 people standing at the top of it, and so you have to stop because everybody else is stopped. You have no room to go around them. They always stop at the best part, where it’s challenging, and I always get very irritated by that.

If there were one tree you could chop down in all of the ski runs in Maine that you’ve seen, which would it be?
None of them. I love them. The more trees the better, in my opinion. I love tree skiing. I love the feel of skiing down the traditional narrow trails where you have to dodge branches and you’re dodging rocks and all kinds of stuff. So I would leave every single tree up there.

Is there a favorite tree?
Oh, yeah. The top of Lost Valley when you get off the chair has a grove of trees, and they’re perfectly spaced apart. There’s probably a tree every three feet or so, and there are jumps in between them, where the kids have gone through the trees. It’s just a beautiful landscape up there.

What’s the worst tumble you’ve ever taken, the worst crash.
The worst crash that I’ve ever taken was at Spillway at Sugarloaf

Can you take us from the top right down to the crash?
Sure. I was about 12. Spillway is a run that goes right under the big chairlift at Sugarloaf, and it’s the chairlift where all the best skiers ride on this chair. This was not a very crowded day. Nobody was out and the coach had taken a group up. We were about 15 people and I got off the chair. I was feeling very cocky because I knew I was the best skier in the group and I had gotten the best results, etc., etc. So I kind of took off in front of everybody and the coach wanted us to meet up at the top and talk about techniques and what we were going to work on for that run. And I just said, “See you later, I’m going down,” and of course I got yelled at. But I went anyway. I was doing huge, sweeping turns across the entire trail. This is a trail that doesn’t give you any breaks. It just continues straight down – down, down, down. There’s no little resting points. There’s no flat areas. There’s no break in the terrain. It’s just totally consistent all the way down. Those are the trails that are just really hard to stop on. There I was, doing big sweeping turns. All of a sudden I just catch an edge and go tumbling. I mean completely cartwheeling, losing every piece of my equipment, everything, hat gloves, everything… My shirt pulled up. I scraped my back on the snow. I stopped exactly under the chairlift with two of my other coaches and a few other people on the chair above me just, you know, not really laughing -wondering if I’m okay, but pointing at me like I’m…

Exhibit A?
Yeah.

Many years from now, when another generation has passed, will there be ski runs where visions of your parents will come back to you while skiing?
Everywhere at Sunday River, I think. Probably the Sunday Punch, because we used to race at Sunday River when we were very little. There’s a race there called the Meredith Langley Memorial Race, and my family would go and do that race every year, and we were gate-keeping and we were buying the food. So the feeling of our family is very powerful there, but more so because my brother Jean Paul was killed by the road while driving toward the mountain in 1992. He was just 24. He’d just come home for Christmas vacation from the University of Colorado at Boulder, where he was preparing for med school, and he was hit by another car behind him, twice, then forced off into the forest. Every time I drive up the mountain I have to see the tree that killed him. You asked about a tree I’d like to cut down and I said there wasn’t one, but I’d like to change my answer to that. I hate that tree. I’ve almost cut it down myself. My brother went to Albertville to watch me ski. He’s just really a big part of my life. It’s a really hard drive for me. I’ve stopped and walked up to the tree. Someone keeps putting flowers there, and we really appreciate it, but if there’s a tree we could cut, that would be it.

What is a singular moment of beauty you’ve experienced while skiing?
I’d have to say most of those moments have come when I’ve been Nordic skiing. There’s something about being in the untouched woods in the late afternoon in the sparkling snow. There’s nowhere like the Maine woods. I’m always swept off my feet. But it’s funny – though I’m an Alpine skier, and that’s such a rush – the moments of individual beauty that stand out are from Nordic skiing.

Are any of the mountains romantically significant for you?
Oh, my God. Because I grew up skiing, I’ve had crushes on mountains, so many. I remember the time when I first skied with my boyfriend at Lost Valley. It meant a lot to me. (Laughs) There’s a downside to romance at the ski slopes, though.

A downside?
Sometimes you can get trapped in a gondola with someone who you’re not so sure you like who all of a sudden wants to be romantic with you.

I hadn’t thought of that. You’re way up in the air in a metal cage and you can’t get out! What do you do?
There was one time … (Laughs.) It was a long ride.

Is there anyone you keep bumping into at ski resorts against all odds?
That’s easy. Joan Benoit Samuelson. I run into Joanie a lot at Maine ski areas. It’s like I’ll turn around and she’s there, at any number of places. She’s an excellent, competitive skier, but she’s so small and she always looks so cold! It makes you want to go over to her and give her a big hug.

That’s funny because when she was growing up, she wanted to be …you, actually. An Olympic ski racer.
She and I have laughed about that. It’s funny, the way things turn out. She’s just such an incredible athlete.

You’re a Maine skier. Do other world-class skiers realize that about you, or is there nothing distinctive about being a racer from Maine?
They do realize that about me and other skiers from Maine, and there is something distinctive about all of us. Growing up as a skier in Maine made me able to adapt to bad weather conditions and cold, which over the years has been an invaluable characteristic to have in Olympic and World Cup competitions. Mainers are flexible, uncomplaining skiers, and I know [fellow Olympian] Kirsten Clark [of Raymond, Maine] on the Ski Team agrees. There’s something about Maine that makes you tough but adaptable, easygoing but willing to face adversities as opportunities. We’ll take anything on.