The secret is out.
In the last few years, outdoor recreation and activity have exploded. Recently published numbers from the U.S. government reveal our outdoor industry hit a whopping trillion dollars. The government only started analyzing the outdoor rec economy starting in 2018. That illustrates how recently this space has grown. And, how decades before this, skiers, climbers, hikers, and other recreators were flying under the radar.
This boom comes with some trepidation from outdoor enthusiasts. And a whole lot of gatekeeping. Folks who have traveled in the outdoor space for a long time express wanting things to go back to “the way they used to be”. With arguments ranging from the innocuous (“these trails are too crowded” and “traffic is unbearable these days”) to damaging for the outdoor community. Think of certain Instagram accounts that highlight the occasional dorkiness that comes with being new to a sport, the “Don’t be a Jerry” culture, and excessive “no one can find my secret stash” perspectives.
Attitude check
We can all agree that anyone who wants to should get to enjoy the experience of sliding on snow. But, somewhere along the way, arguments about crowds started to deviate from being about crowds, and more about who deserves the space. In short, if you’re not a core skier, you’re just taking up space on the mountain. No one who complains about crowds seems to get that they are quite literally a member of the crowd.
At the same time, our ski media is a rad-ness fest. Ski movies are filled with big lines and trips around the world that many of us can only dream of. But very rarely do these films tell any story. Why are there these people skiing together in this place? I think some of these films have pivoted to more storytelling about connections and relationships (like the Blondes segment in the latest MSP film). Movies like Advice for Girls and Here, Hold My Kid focus on our identities as skiers and why that’s important to us. But when ski films highlight the next biggest spine and drop, how relatable is that to the casual skier? And how does that get them to fall in love with the sport?
I’ve seen arguments that maybe the sport doesn’t need to grow. Why push so hard for something, when the mountains and our infrastructure have a capacity cap?
Growing the sport
We can’t say, “I was here first,” to newer skiers. We can’t keep those feelings of connection and freedom and peace that made us go head over heels for the sport to ourselves. The benefits of outdoor adventure are so critical for us, especially in these days of disconnection and heavy screen time. There are still communities that are priced out of the sport or don’t have access to it for a myriad of reasons. Think driving time (with a car that can safely get you up and down the hill), gas costs, work, experience, costs of rentals, lift tickets, lessons, and winter gear.
We still have people who haven’t gotten to slide on snow yet, we’re certainly not ready to close the doors for crowding.
So why does this all mean I want you to stop complaining about crowds? The last thing the ski industry needs is community members with megaphones saying, “You’re not gnar enough to join our club”. With pricing and access that’s already a hurdle to jump over, why bother if you feel like folks are just going to be dismissive, rude, or demeaning? While so many existing skiers are looking for the elusive “spirit of skiing”, I know that isn’t it.
Skiing isn’t just for the technically proficient, the oldest-timers, or the gnarliest. It should be shared and aggressively encouraged to anyone new or interested in the sport. It should be accessible. These mountains are not yours to hold in your back pocket. They were never yours to begin with.
The mountains aren’t yours
On a casual ski tour with my friend this week, we were talking locals who keep lines secret (except for when they post them on Instagram and refuse to describe the location). We felt conflicted on it, but she mentioned, “These mountains are sacred spaces”. Sure, they feel a little less sacred when there are snow cats pounding up the hills and lifts humming seven hours a day. But they aren’t any less powerful. And to prevent someone from experiencing that is not in the spirit of these mountains, or the emotions and connection we feel in these places.
If you have a problem with the crowds, go somewhere else. I won’t tell you to go on a weekday, because I know that’s not a suitable solution for our workweek friends. But I get a little tired of the lift line complaints on the internet when our beloved Loveland Ski Area hosts a zero-minute wait time at Chet’s. I’ve never waited in line at Lift 9 to ski some of the coolest alpine terrain in Colorado, even on a powder day.
I don’t disagree that some ski areas should work to open more terrain to ease crowding. You see some resorts doing that already, like Aspen Mountain, Keystone, and Winter Park. But at a certain point, there’s only so many trees you can glade and trails to maintain. If the mountains are where we want to escape to be in nature, we can’t just rip all the nature out to the point where we damage it further. These resorts are living plant and animal communities—that exist outside of our ski season.
Find your peace
There are plenty of options for quiet slopes and rad terrain. Sunlight outside of Glenwood, Cooper outside of Leadville, or Monarch down south. That’s just in Colorado. If you travel to ski, why not take a trip to a slower hill? You lose the glamour and ritz of the big box resorts, but for many of us, I think we’re okay with losing that part. If you love the spirit of skiing so much, stop supporting the big box resorts with your dollar, and send it over to the little guy.
All that to say, I just want a little more peace in this community. Exploring the mountains, building connections with my friends, and challenging my body are the reasons why I ski. All that can be done with hundreds of people around me, or zero. I can choose to be angry, or I can choose to be excited about all the other people getting to experience that too.
