Because here’s one funny thing about Nordic skiing: unlike downhill, you rarely pray for a pow day. Cross-country is at its best once the snow has settled, and been groomed at least a couple of times. According to Kevin Komer, director of agronomy at The Club at Spruce Peak, ideal conditions are when a few inches of snow have fallen overnight, and the groomers have had a chance to turn the cart paths into a smooth, fast loop.

The skis that my guide, Jacob, fits me with are waxless, with small fish scales cut into the bottom that provide grip and let you kick off of one foot while gliding on the other. It doesn’t take me long to get into the kick-glide rhythm as we cross the footbridge and head out east into the open meadow.

I pick my head up to take in the landscape. The Nordic course sparkles in the afternoon sunshine, its crisp corduroy stripes providing sharp contrast to the rugged, snowy fields and rocks. As anyone who has played golf at the Mountain Course knows, the views are spectacular from every angle, and the familiar peaks of Spruce Peak and Mansfield soared. I’d spent all morning skiing these mountains, but somehow from down here, they appear even more majestic – particularly under the cloudless blue sky that still stretches overhead. I can see tiny pinpricks moving down the slopes — skiers who, like me, are reveling in the spring sunshine. But here on the wide, rolling hillside, I’m more focused on perfecting an effortless glide than carving turns at speed.

That changes in an instant as we skirt the edges of Peregrine Lake, a 110 milliongallon man-made reservoir used for snowmaking, and make our way onto our first hill. Whooping and laughing on our skinny skis, we plunge down to the trail’s intersection with the West Branch Little River, stopping at a spot overlooking the water below. Through the woods, I can see the river curving around boulders and trailing through the snowy banks. It feels like we’re the only two skiers in the world, and, looking around us, we are the only ones on the Nordic course. Gazing at the sun-dappled landscape in peaceful solitude, it’s a pleasure to have the place all to ourselves.