By Tim Peck
Being a New England skier means embracing “bad” weather and making the most out of conditions that keep most sane people inside. Diehard East Coasters associate bitter cold, bone-chilling winds, and gray skies with short lift lines. Icy trails just make you ski faster. Nowhere on the East Coast embodies this ethos more than New Hampshire’s Cannon Mountain.
At Cannon, perceived negatives of freezing weather, challenging terrain, and brown-bag lunch sentiment conspire to form a quintessential East Coast ski experience. Cannon averages 160 inches of snowfall per year, a total that would be a good month at some western resorts. The line between an epic season and a disappointing one runs thin. What’s more, the mountain’s formidable reputation goes beyond snow totals. Notoriously frigid, Cannon faces northeast and receives minimal sun. Bitter winds scream through Franconia Notch and buffet the slopes. Cannon’s summit hits 4,080 feet, making it the highest ski area summit in the state—but it’s miniaturized by 6,289-foot Mount Washington, 30 miles east and home to the “worst weather in the world.”
Considering the weather and terrain, you might think Cannon would try to soften its edges with fancy on-mountain lodges, fine dining, and high-tech snow making. Nope. The mountain is owned by the State of New Hampshire, and upgrades are infrequent when compared to its more luxurious neighbors, Loon Mountain and Bretton Woods. Even more unique in the age of the mega-resort? Cannon has no on-site lodging.
All of this begs the question: Why would anyone ski here?
Old School ‘n Rugged
When you glance at a trail map of Cannon, you notice no double-black runs. But don’t be fooled—the trails here are understated. DJ’s Tramline, rated black diamond, drops below the tram straight, narrow, and rocky. Sloping to around 40 degrees, it’s considered one of the hardest runs in the East. Overall, Cannon boasts New Hampshire’s longest vertical at 2,180 feet. Its 285 skiable acres are only 5,004 fewer than Vail’s!
Other tantalizing options? Cannon skiers stay warm ripping scratchy runs on the Front Five—five steep, and often bumpy, runs located on the frontside of the mountain facing the highway. They’re fast, and the reputation is well-deserved. Before Olympic gold medalist and two-time World Champion Bode Miller became a household name, he barrelled down these runs as a child. His five Olympic medals are displayed next-door to the tram at the New England Ski Museum.
And the history doesn’t stop there. Taft Slalom is the oldest ski racing trail in the East.
Fittingly, Cannon skiers can be a little bit old school. Avoid judging someone for wearing a twenty-year old Karbon jacket and skiing sticks almost as old as you; chances are they crush. Imagine how good they would be with new skis and outerwear that actually kept them warm and dry. At Cannon, these are the skiers you want to meet—if you can keep up, that is. They know every twist, turn, and stash. Just be ready for them to cackle at your neon Gore-Tex.
The person who chooses to ski Cannon is someone who cares more about skiing than they do about convenience or gourmet mid-mountain brisket. They’re the folks left behind when the mountain’s fierce reputation chases fair-weather skiers away. If you feel like an abnormally high percentage of Cannon skiers zipperline hard moguls, lay down technical turns on granular groomers, or parallel through tight trees, you’re getting the picture.
Waiting a Few Minutes
You’ll find those same skiers toasting winter, and hoping for more, with beers at the Cannonball Pub. But when a storm rolls through and the snow starts stacking up, they won’t linger. Some of them may have been there when Mark Twain famously said, “If you don’t like the weather in New England now, just wait a few minutes.” And they know that when powder blankets their edgy playground, the heart of New England skiing starts to beat.
This rings particularly true this year. Most of the 2017-18 ski season has disappointed. December snowstorms dropped more than 50 inches on Cannon, but they came with sub-zero temps that almost froze the optimism out of even the hardiest locals. Temperatures normalized in January and February, but the snowfall all but disappeared. Only race-tuned edges bred confidence.
Then a few minutes passed, and five feet of snow transformed Cannon in the first two weeks of March. Those stoic New England faces, hardened by ice, soften into powder-caked grins. Powder clouds burst on DJ’s Tramline. Hoots and hollers rise from the birches. Cannonball Pub vibrates. Snow transforms Cannon’s treacherous runs into powdery highways and fills its numerous named and unnamed glades. The party is on until the snow goes away again.
Then it’s back to waiting. And out here waiting means skiing.
Looking for some adventure skiing out West? Read our trip report from Colorado’s abandoned Rock Creek Ski Area.
Correction: the original version of this story said that Cannon’s 2,180 feet of vertical is the longest in New England. It is the longest in New Hampshire and seventh longest in New England.
