Liz Cote’s cheerful demeanor masks an inner dread. Tonight, she is working a cozy volunteer shift in the lodge at the Veterans Memorial Recreation Area ski hill in Franklin, New Hampshire. Tomorrow, however, this Granite State native will point a pair of skis downhill for the first time.
Learning to ski in stiff boots bolted to long fiberglass slats can be both an exhilarating and scary experience for a beginner like Ms. Cote. It can also be prohibitively expensive.
Which is one reason the local volunteer has come to “The Vets,” as the small ski area in the foothills of the White Mountains is known. The 230-foot-high slope here is a gentler descent than those found at the state’s larger ski areas, as well as at other resorts throughout New England.
Why We Wrote This
A day on the slopes in New England can cost more than $200 per person. In contrast, community ski hills in New Hampshire operate as nonprofits, offering low- or no-cost passes, lowering barriers to the sport.
“It’s a perfect place to learn how to ski in my 30s,” says Ms. Cote, one of many locals who help keep the hill running. “I can look at the top and feel like I am not going to kill myself trying to get down,” she says with a laugh.
For the first time this year, weekend skiing at The Vets is also free. As a nonprofit, the ski facility relies on donations and business sponsorships to provide a low- or no-cost opportunity to take part in an aspect of New England’s cultural heritage that is often out of reach for many local families.
Indeed, as nations around the world tune in to watch the 2026 Winter Olympics in Milan Cortina, Italy, the U.S. team has long fielded rosters of ski and snowboard Olympians with ties to New England, including returning gold medalists Mikaela Shiffrin (Alpine skiing) and Jessie Diggins (cross country). Past Alpine legends include Bode Miller, a New Hampshire native and the most-decorated American male skier.
Under the lights of The Vets on this January evening, beyond the glow of a firepit, a group of parents is enthusiastically cheering on its budding Olympians. The tiniest skiers step on a slow-moving “bunny belt” that moves them about
100 feet up the hill. Others grab a ride on the rope tow to the top to swoosh down again.
“With kids, you never know how long they will want to ski,” says Valerie Iyer, a social worker from Brighton, Massachusetts, who made the trip up to The Vets to enroll her 5-year-old daughter, Phoenix, in a lesson.
“Most families don’t want to spend the money on expensive lift tickets if their kids only want to ski for an hour, or even 20 minutes. It’s a way to experience skiing together as a family,” she says.
At many of the larger ski resorts, renting skis and buying a lift ticket can cost more than $200 per person. Add in food and the cost of lessons, and a family of four could expect to pay more than $1,000 for a single day on the slopes.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff
In contrast, community ski hills in New Hampshire, like The Vets, are run as nonprofits, and are staffed by a corps of dedicated volunteers who do everything from fundraising to snowmaking to grooming. Others across the state include Mount Eustis in Littleton and Storrs Hill in Lebanon, which hosts area high school race teams during the week.
“I don’t know if this place wasn’t here if I’d be into skiing,” says Timmy Morrill, president of the Franklin Outing Club that operates The Vets, who learned to ski here. “The larger resorts all see the importance of small community hills like us. People come here to learn affordably and then move on to the bigger mountains.”
Has skiing become too expensive?
New Hampshire has a rich skiing history. It is largely considered the nation’s cradle of Alpine skiing with its long list of innovators and athletes. In 1998, it was declared the state sport. But rising insurance rates, food prices, and electricity and labor costs are making downhill skiing and snowboarding an increasingly unaffordable recreational activity for many people.
“There are a lot of headwinds” in the ski industry when it comes to rising costs, says Jessyca Keeler, president of Ski New Hampshire, a not-for-profit trade association that supports more than 30 Alpine and cross-country ski areas throughout the Granite State.
On a national level, recreational skiing is big business, with 492 ski areas operating across 37 states. Daily costs at the most elite Colorado resorts can soar well over $2,000 per person, and as recreation, the sport has long been considered the domain of the very wealthy.
Still, even though inflation and other economic pressures are driving costs skyward, participation is at an all-time high. The National Ski Areas Association reported 61.5 million skier visits during the 2024-25 season, its second-best season since the trade group began keeping records in the late 1970s. The industry is a huge economic engine for the U.S. economy, with downhill snow sports generating $58.87 billion annually, according to figures published by the NSAA.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff
But the people who work and volunteer at New Hampshire’s modest community-focused hills say they are motivated by the simple fact that playing outside during the darkest, coldest months of the year is both restorative and fun.
“These places tend to have those family and community vibes,” says Ms. Keeler. “They aren’t trying to make a bunch of profit. They’re just looking to serve the community. We live in a wintry state, and it’s important to have things to do without making a huge investment.”
New Hampshire also boasts an extensive network of volunteer-run programs for schoolchildren that provides lessons and equipment at steep discounts. And many smaller ski areas often provide a wide range of discounted or free days, and vouchers to help offset expenses.
“It’s where it starts,” says Cory Grant, president of the Lebanon Outing Club that operates Storrs Hill. The facility is the nation’s second-oldest continuing ski hill, first opening in 1923. It also has a junior national-qualifying ski jump. “A lot of talent comes out of here, including a handful of Olympians,” he says.
Ms. Shiffrin, who as an 8-year-old raced at Storrs, turned heads when she beat older boys by four seconds.
Nordic skiing, often called cross-country skiing, and ski jumping were the first to appear in New England in the mid-1800s. The practices were brought by Scandinavian immigrants who took up logging in New Hampshire, says E. John B. Allen, a historian for the New England Ski Museum in Franconia, New Hampshire.
Nordic skiing and its ethos of striding out into the fresh air to commune with nature were enthusiastically adopted by students at Dartmouth College and the University of New Hampshire.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff
By the late 1920s, cross-country skiing gave way to downhill skiing, which was introduced by Austrian immigrants fleeing Nazi control during World War II.
“It wasn’t that Norwegian skiing and Nordic skiing disappeared, but it was that Alpine skiing became, as it were, more of a thrill and something to be enjoyed,” says Mr. Allen.
Rope-tow hills soon proliferated across New England’s cow pastures. In 1939, the arrival of Austrian ski-meister Hannes Schneider, renowned for his turning method, the Arlberg technique, enabled skiers to get down the hill quickly and safely.
After fleeing the Nazis, settling in North Conway, and opening a ski school in Jackson, New Hampshire, Schneider fueled the ski industry’s growth in New England.
So beloved is Schneider’s legacy that, each fall, fourth graders ride the Conway Scenic Railroad, sponsored by the New England Ski Museum, to celebrate his 1939 arrival at Cranmore Mountain. A statue of the Austrian ski pioneer stands at the mountain resort.
Postwar prosperity, better equipment, and highways linking urban areas to remote ski hills helped spur the popularity of downhill skiing. Advances in snowmaking and the advent of chairlifts replacing rope tows also encouraged more people to learn to ski. In 1955, there were about 66 ski areas in the United States. Ten years later, that number climbed to 543.
Then American skiers began winning Olympic medals – many from New England. Andrea Mead Lawrence, the first American Alpine skier to win multiple gold medals at the 1952 Games, learned to ski at the modest Pico Mountain in Vermont.
The growth of Western ski resorts, particularly in Colorado and California, kept Americans at home instead of traveling to Europe for ski vacations, says the historian Mr. Allen.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff
“It’s important to me to make skiing accessible.”
But the ski boom was cut short by the 1970s energy crisis, and many small ski areas, including more than 600 in New England, were forced to close, according to the New England Lost Ski Areas Project.
Mount Eustis in Littleton, which first opened in 1939, closed and then reopened several times, saved by local fundraising efforts. It’s now maintained by an 11-person board and a modest annual operating fund of $15,000 to $20,000.
“We are just trying to be sustainable and not necessarily make a profit,” says Adam Harbilas, the volunteer coordinator at a recent training session for new recruits. He has a list of over 100 people, with about 30 active volunteers.
One of the new recruits, listening carefully on how to stop the rope tow, is Gina Damiano, who grew up skiing at nearby Cannon Mountain. Bode Miller learned to ski at Cannon, known for its steep, icy slopes.
“It’s important to me to make skiing accessible,” says Ms. Damiano, whose great-grandfather installed the first aerial tramway at Cannon Mountain in 1938.
“This is such a great opportunity, [but] there are so many barriers to skiing,” she says. “It’s important to show kids the joy of skiing or snowboarding.”
In some ways, community ski hills combine the ease and accessibility of Nordic skiing with the thrill of skiing at a high speed, albeit for a short distance. For many beginning skiers, that’s just the right combination.
Michaela Hoover, a librarian in Andover, New Hampshire, has been coming to The Vets for the past five years with her son, Santigie Hoover, every day the slope is open. She adopted Santigie, who is deaf, from Sierra Leone.
“This is the only place he can do this totally on his own,” says Ms. Hoover. The lift operators and workers in the lodge all know Santigie, who will ride the lift dozens of times in an afternoon. “Here, he is free to be like any other middle school kid. I know that he’s safe, and that’s very nice.”
And then she grins. “Who knows, maybe one day he could ski for Sierra Leone in the Olympics!”