The chill of the early morning at Cannon was more than offset by the warmth of the greeting I received from the folks that work at this old New England ski mountain.  The ladies at the ticket counter were all smiles and laughs, the marketing director was casual and chatty and the special treat was Cyrus.

 

Cyrus, age 77 and sporting a full gray beard and sparkling eyes, seemed to have almost legendary status at the mountain.  His recent routine was showing up at 4 AM to help shovel the decks and walks, open the lodge and generally get things going.  As soon as his morning chores were complete (by 10:15 or so) he headed in the lodge for mid morning drink at the bar – his told me this was his lunchtime.  Cyrus told me a wonderful story about a small mountain, a hill really, that is helped start using a rope tow powered by his old farm tractor.  He recounted minute details about how he was able to keep the rope in the pulley and allow for the sudden drag put on the line by people grabbing hard.  His New England ingenuity and humor with a little dash of mischievousness  made this Mainer proud.

 

Cannon’s super fast chair rushed me to the mid station (speed was important as it was bitterly cold) where I took a short crosscut to the slower chair to the top.  This second lift was lined by furs and spruces drenched with thick, cold-white snow that the wind drove deep into every pore.  A quick three runs on this upper lift and I needed the warmth of the lodge.  This mountain’s has a strong personality – it feels determined, rugged and loyal – like many of the people that seem to ski and work here.  Come feel this energy.