In 2023, I visited Aspen for the first time. A buddy of mine works out there, so it was a great excuse to see what the hype was about. The first 10 minutes was an existentially challenging experience. I sat in a gondola with two middle-aged skiers, both draped in the quasi-religious garb of the new mountain-elite: a diamanté Prada helmet here, a pearlescent down jacket there. The membrane between their bodies and the elements an egregious display of opulence, a world where exploring these wild places is nothing but an amuse-bouche. Where après is more coveted than navigating the Aspen pine or Blue Spruce. Our sport, a facade for the real activities of the uber-rich.
And then there’s Cloud 9. Perched at 11,000 ft on Highlands Mountain, a former ski patrol facility serves a new purpose: an upper-crust bistro. Every ingredient transported daily via snowmobile. Inside sits a plaque to acknowledge the biggest spenders. The staff count the number of champagne bottles sprayed at lunch - a Formula One podium celebration but for those on Linked-In premium. Rumour has it the record is 140.
This experience got me thinking about something I have not stopped ruminating on since. Who are these places for? What will be left of them in 20 years when this moment has been and gone? How much is enough?
This week news emerged of the planned construction of Lagonaki Ski Resort–which I will call it until there is proof that snowboarders will be allowed to ride–in the Western Caucasus of Russia. The proposed Lagonaki ski resort will encroach on a UNESCO world heritage site, earned due to its “remarkable diversity of geology, ecosystems and species. along with the Virgin Komi World Heritage site, it is the only large mountain area in Europe that has not experienced significant human impact”. It is the place of origin and reintroduction of the European mountain bison. This place matters. To be afforded UNESCO Heritage protections is rare. There is mention of outstanding biological and geological formations, of conservation and natural beauty. Shareholder profit didn't make the list.
This is not to say we should care only for UNESCO sites. All wild and communal areas deserve to be fought for. From Sequoia National Park to your local recreational reserve. But what does it say about this culture and society – about the sport we love – if we cannot protect areas explicitly set aside for conservation?
The expansion ‘plan’
The ski resorts Krasnaya Polyana, Arkhyz and Lagonaki intend to build 550 kilometers of trails, preparing to welcome at least five million tourists a year according to Vadim Trukshin, CEO of the Mantera Group of companies.
“When all these three ski resorts are launched, taking into account the prospects for development, and connected by transport and hotels, we will get an analogue of the French resort ‘Three Valleys’ with 550 kilometers of trails, receiving up to five million tourists annually. It will be the largest tourist ski agglomeration in Russia."
Of course, the impact of large scale operations transcends the physical impact of increased visitation. Resort management will need to install snow-making systems for skiing on Lagonaki’s slopes to remain possible during winter, as strong winds tend to blow away the area’s natural snow. An operation of this scale will include miles of lines, transporting water and air, diverting it from where it naturally flows. There will be resorts, hotels, bars, restaurants. These will need showers, baths, pools, toilets, and kitchens. The impact on the local hydrology is immense. On top of all this, the Lagonaki Plateau sits on unstable karst formations and project risks creating sinkholes and other dramatic changes in the landscape. Local alpine wildlife will be forced off these lands. Critical and endangered flora and fauna would likely be lost. You’ve heard this all before.
Who is it really for?
It’s understandable for avid riders and skiers to get giddy at the thought of resort expansion. New lifts take you to new terrain, new features, and new experiences. We’re also convinced that more acreage will lead to less congestion on the mountain. Then there’s the jobs. The very scent of ‘job creation’ is intoxicating for local politicians and businesses alike.
But what is the reality of it? Minimum wage labor that cannot provide the laborer with a dignified existence? More visitors flocking to a mountain town with so few beds employees commute hours from slightly-more-affordable shelter or spend winters holed up in their cars? All in service of making some numbers, somewhere, for someone, go up. And then there is the increased acreage, drawing in more and more tourists obsessed with the image of riding in Aspen. This magnetic attraction, parasitising local mountains who simply cannot compete. A process of creating tourists where there might have been more local riders. The friction between these market demands and our wild places has always been present–we’re just further into this failed experiment. There’s something very unique about the modern snowsports resort-town. There is seemingly no other recreational activity that exerts this level of impact on the very ecosystems required for its continued survival.
In the current political climate it’s not hard to scold Russian business interests. It’s never been easier to traverse that moral high ground, tutting audibly and shaking your finger so everyone knows you disapprove. But let’s be very clear: this is just one example of a trend that must be fought everywhere, not just where it is politically easy to do so. This fight must be brought home to your local wild areas. Even when there are promises of good jobs and opportunity for all, how do we push back collectively? When will our sport stand up and say enough is enough? We have more kilometers of runs that anyone could ride in a lifetime. There are already over 6000 resorts worldwide.
Who - or what - is all of this for?