FUP much?


FUP, FUPping, FUPpers.

F.U.P. stands for “Front Urban Poaching” and it’s all about having fun in your own backyard. In this case, that backyard is Portland, Maine, and generally pertains to skiing local terrain that affords a mini-backcountry experience without the two-plus-hour drive. Call me cheap or call me lazy but about five years ago I got totally turned off to paying for a lift ticket just to wait in a lift line only to have some wanker from Massachusetts stepping on my skis. Portland is a fairly hilly town but most of it’s developed so we’re always scoping out potential locations like this back entrance to a local supermarket.


At about thirty degrees this slope was steep enough to get us through the five inches of pow. However, the challenge here wasn’t skiing, it was skiing lightly. Underneath those five powdery inches was a half-inch layer of crust, which, when broken through, grabbed our skis and dug into our ankles. Not easily deterred, we trashed this little slope and then headed on to whiter pastures. Literally.

When we arrived on Munjoy Hill , there was only one other party vying for the slope – some young dad and his two-year-old. No competition there. This location overlooks the city and Back Cove. Not a bad place to take in the sunset and an even better place to FUP. The afternoon sun had forced the recent powder to meld with the underlying crust and now it was all sugary goodness. And some clumps of weeds. Isn’t that what metal edges are for?

Flasks are for FUPs. Chris: “It’s just water.” Paul: “Really?”

And flasks. Let’s not forget about flasks, people. This was a Sunday, after all. As I write this the temp outside just hit fifty and our next possible chance of snow is five days away. Maybe. Time to reach for the running shoes and break out a snow dance. Soundtrack suggestions anyone? In the meantime, I’m off to¬†Homegrown Herb & Tea for MFMO.



And so, we leave you with this little montage of the days events. Thanks for stopping by.