The Joy of Small

Last night I skied a tiny, old-school hill in Maine.

Rope tow. Night skiing. Natural snow - fresh powder, somehow better than most of the west right now. (Looking at you, Utah.)

This cute little hill was super fun and it cost FIVE BUCKS. (Vail is $307 right now, and it sucks.)

There was a snack shack. A fire pit. Classic rock playing through crappy speakers. Kids laughing, falling, getting back up. Little ones gripping the rope tow while their parents stood behind them and held tight. Headlamps flickering through the glades.

It was simple. It was joyful!

And honestly? I had just as much thrill - maybe more - than I’ve had with a $300 lift ticket.

Somewhere along the way, skiing became a luxury product. High-speed lifts. Premium lodges. Escalating prices. Consolidation. Season passes that rival mortgage payments. For many families, the sport is just not accessible.

We optimized for scale, margin, and experience upgrades.

But in the process, we lost something.

That small rope tow hill wasn’t built to impress. It was built to include.

It was affordable (A little girl in front of me in line paid with quarters). Local. Community-driven. Generational. It brought people outside together on a winter night instead of isolating them indoors looking at their phones.

There’s a lesson in this - not just for skiing, but for how we build experiences, businesses, and brands.

Bigger isn’t always better. Premium isn’t always more meaningful. And accessibility builds loyalty in a way exclusivity never can.

Maybe what more towns need isn’t another luxury development.

They need a rope tow.