Strike out on any snow-packed path in the dead of winter and soon enough you’ll hear the wail of snowmobiles zipping between the trees. Maybe they’re heading your way, and you’ll sink into the sideline to clear the trail, or maybe they’re far off in the distance- on their way north or to the nearest convenience store for a gallon of milk. 

Most likely they’re riding along the 4,000-mile Interconnected Trail System- a volunteer-run, professionally groomed network of snowmobile highway. The system, along with about 10,000 miles of smaller trails linking in, allows riders to go all the way from Lebanon to Madawaska, covering almost every region of the state. The seamless, extensive trailway sets Maine apart from any other snowmobile destination in the country. 

The state has become known for its pristine trails and motor-cutting scenery- much of which wouldn’t be accessible if it weren’t for the founding of the ITS and the nearly 300 clubs who maintain it. Last year, the ITS, dedicated clubs and nearly shoulder-high snowfall increased snowmobile registrations by 24%. Out of state registrants were up 37%, at about 24,000 registrations for the season. The sport reports a $350 million economic impact on the state- on par with the ski industry- and that study is currently being updated. 

“The Maine Snowmobile Association  just celebrated 50 years. When it first started, people would go out for a ride wherever they could with a pocketful of spark plugs and some tools. 10 miles was a good ride,” MESA Executive Director Bob Meyers said. 

An assortment of tools was necessary considering that snowmobiles- the real, finished version of them, not the dooryard scrap, Frankenstein variety- had only hit the scene in Maine 10 or so years earlier. The sixties were a rough era for the snowmobile and the people working to fine tune them. The machines were cumbersome, reeked of oil and weighed as much as a double wide. Experimental trips through the wild Maine terrain was the only way to troubleshoot, thus the pockets of spark plugs and tools. 

“They used to take a trip from Millinocket up to Chamberlain Lake- 25 miles. It took em’ two days to get there. Today it would take about a half hour,” Joe Firlotte said. “My first snowmobile would do 18 miles per hour, with a good tailwind.”

Today’s machines can go about as fast as you’re willing to drive them, Firlotte said, reaching speeds of 130 mph. They can do flips in the air, get you from Sweden to Stockholm and skim the surface of a melting pond if you know what you’re doing and you’re crazy enough to do it. Engine sizes have doubled since the early versions, and snowmobiles have become a way of life for many Mainers. 

Firlotte is a walking documentary on the sport, and the father of the Interconnected Trail System, though he would never solely claim that fame. 

“When you do a project like this you kind of take the credit for all of it, and actually there’s an awful lot of people doing an awful lot of work to put it together,” he said.

Firlotte found snowmobiling right around the time that everyone else did- the mid 1960s. He was living in Winthrop at the time and traveling to Rangeley as often as possible for skiing. 

“Snowmobiling I could do from my front door,” he said. “So I gave up skiing and went to snowmobiles.”

Firlotte could never have predicted the impact the sport would have on his life. What started as a fascination of adventure into the wild, unseen parts of Maine morphed into a lifestyle of advocating and bettering the system. Snowmobiling was catching like wildfire across the state, and while the northern regions  had endless logging roads and potato fields to venture out on, the southern region had little to offer in the way of trails. 

“Snowmobilers rode all the places they shouldn’t been- through people’s backyards and fields and running over hedges and gardens and everything, so there was quite an effort to do away with snowmobiling,” Firlotte said.

A group of eight men set out to get organized, forming what would eventually become MESA.  The men brought matters to legislation to fine tune the guidelines of the new sport, including things like establishing a law that prevented landowners from being responsible for injuries on their property. Private landowners make up about 95% of the ITS according to Meyers, and maintaining good relationships with them plays a vital role in keeping the ITS alive and well. 

Firlotte helped in Augusta, organizing people to make lasting change, but his real interest and influence came from being in the woods. In 1978 Firlotte gathered a small group of people and divided the state into quadrants to begin the process of putting pen to paper and trail to topo. 

The group spent months riding out on unknown trails, trying to make connections and mark them down on maps before coming up with a first draft of the ITS- showing 12,000 miles of trails that stretched across the entire state. 

“I was never lost, I just didn’t always know where I was,” Firlotte joked. “I could always just stop and build a fire and spend the night if I needed to.” 

Now the ITS is used by every snowmobiler who sets out for a ride and includes a numbered system to help with navigation, much like that of the interstate. The entire system is maintained by club members, but finds itself at a tipping point due to lack of involvement. 

The Rangeley Lakes Snowmobile Club- one of the biggest in the state with 800 members- is among those questioning what the future of the ITS will look like.

“Snowmobile sales haven’t shown any decline, but without expanding the system we’re just putting more and more people on the trails,” club member and Oquossoc Marine employee Johnny Wakefield said. “More importantly, more and more people are not getting involved with clubs.”

Wakefield said the Rangeley club is successful mostly because of their seasonal residents. Only a small group of locals are registered club members. With strong sponsorship from local businesses and a thriving fundraising scene the club does alright, but when it comes to manpower they are just scraping by. 

“For us it’s actually feet on the ground help. I don’t know of a single club that has enough,” he said. 

Some club members are putting in 30 hours a week of volunteer time grooming and maintaining the trails, Wakefield said. They have up to four groomers out on the trails five to seven days a week, keeping things in the pristine condition that Maine has become known for, but membership doesn’t have to mean that kind of commitment. Even a $25 membership fee goes a long way, particularly in towns where there isn’t such an influx of tourists. Rangeley’s population goes from 1,200 to 7,500 as soon as snow flies, Wakefield said. 

Wakefield said anyone who rides a snowmobile should join their local club, or the club where they most often ride. The ITS is established, thanks to the motivation of Firlotte and others, but it will be up to Mainers to keep it intact. 

“I guess people just feel like they don’t need to help because someone else will do the work, but clubs are suffering.”