Each month, Down East editors select our favorite response to “Where in Maine?” Here is our favorite letter from March’s photo.
In the mid-1980s, a chalkboard at the entrance to a lower T-bar line on Sugarloaf indicated an ambient temperature at the summit of 28 degrees below zero, with wind gusts of 80 miles per hour. My dad said to me, “Let’s go for it.” As the upper T-bar dragged us over the crest of the mountain, we were hit by the harshest wind I had ever felt. Down we went, like two frozen popsicles on unbendable legs, directly to the base lodge for hot chocolate — returning to our family in a mountainside condo only after the white dots of impending frostbite finally disappeared from our faces.
— Richard Darveau, Reading, Massachusetts