Fun has no age limit. Montville, Maine, has proven it for 19 years with the guts and glory of the annual New England Runner Sled Association championship.
The friendly competition, set for Saturday, Feb. 14, on Hogback Mountain, has all the hallmarks of a weekend sporting event. Groups of competitors gather around tailgates to show off prize sleds, revealing — or guarding — the secret waxing and metal-grinding tricks that make a run fast.
A kitchen shed turns out handmade donuts, hot chocolate and coffee. The signup trailer displays trophies for the victors, while the champion’s sled leans against a tire, listing every winner back to 2007. Most racers are grown men. I’ve never seen so many bearded grins.
My husband, Jake Holmes, owns 10 vintage runner sleds stacked in the garage. He’s told stories of racing down Hogback’s frozen streams as a kid, and of testing sleds on Chick Hill every weekend. A brand-new Flexible Flyer arrived on our porch just two days before the 2024 race, the first one I attended. Still, I didn’t get it until we walked through the parking lot.
One participant has 84 sleds stored in his barn. Racers debate whether pre- or post-World War II steel makes for better sliding. One sled may date back to 1914. They’re literally sledding on history.
According to the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, Samuel Leeds Allen invented the Flexible Flyer in 1880. It was hailed as “the sled that steers” and “wins every race.” Before that, I imagine sled races were chaotic and not suited for the steep contours of Hogback’s new track.
In previous years, the race ran down Hog Back Road, a longer but gentler route. In 2024, landowner G.W. Martin debuted a purpose-built track, felling a few acres of trees to create it.
The start drops sharply, giving racers momentum for a sweeping 180-degree turn and a long straight to the finish. A protective fence topped with a watering system keeps a solid layer of ice and safe night riding conditions. (Visitors should wear microspikes.)
We arrived early so Jake could get a feel for the new track. Peering down the initial 30-yard drop made my stomach flip. Watching racers leap onto their sleds and scream through that first turn made me wonder if I had enough childlike enthusiasm to push past my doubt. I had already agreed to race, so I grabbed a loaner helmet and joined the opening ceremonies.
I was pitted against one of Jake’s oldest friends and promised to stay out of his way. Three junior racers called out, “Ready, set, go.” We took a few steps, shoved our sleds forward, and in my case, flopped gracelessly on top, hands slapping Samuel Leeds Allen’s famous steering bar.
I had raced before against my brother and cousins back in Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains. Ice storms would rip limbs from trees, coat everything in shimmering ice and keep us out of school for days.
Remembering those close calls added to my nerve. But that first turn wasn’t as hard as it looked. Once I made it, I couldn’t stop laughing and wondering why adults don’t always have this much fun. (I lost by a long shot.)
The race uses a double-elimination format, so I had to lose again before I could relax, eat a donut and photograph everyone else enjoying themselves. After adults advanced through the first rounds, junior racers took their turn, followed by junior-junior racers, some as young as three. Radio operators at the start and finish kept the chaos under control as competitors climbed back to the gate for final rounds.
The final adult race required two wins to claim the championship. Winners were crowned in the adult, junior and junior‑junior divisions, with trophies handed out, cheers echoing and no one truly losing the day.
My favorite photo captures two gray-bearded racers, shiny-eyed, one with his tongue to the side in concentration, racing to the start while three kids watch. It’s a gift to see joy carried through generations.
The Hogback Mountain sled track is open to the public. Event and trail updates can be found on the Association Facebook page.