A Word on Crans-Montana

I’ve been umming and erring on whether to share anything on this terrible tragedy since it first happened early in the morning on January 1^st.

Some 40 people are dead with over a hundred seriously injured from an inferno at a bar in the Swiss ski resort of Crans-Montana (BBC News). It is a tragedy that has ripped the heart out of the local area during what was supposed to be its busiest – and happiest – period of the season cutting short the lives of so many mostly young people and deeply, deeply impacting so many more in ways beyond imagination.

I’ve ummed and erred over this because, on a most basic level, this has nothing to do me with. I have no friends or family involved or in the resort, none of my colleagues and peers are seemingly involved, and I’ve never been and currently have no plans to go to Crans-Montana.

When thinking about sharing things on social media, especially in light of this lack of connection, I often find myself asking “who is this for?” and as such I’ve strayed away resharing stories, pictures, or leaving comments. Even more so, what is there to think in the wake of such horrors, let alone write?

But, for those who know me, know that any response from me always takes time. Don’t ask me what I think of a film right as we walk out of a cinema, I need a couple of days to chew over and analyse and come to a conclusion about it. And the more I’ve thought about this, the more I felt I need to share … something.

The more I’ve thought about this, the more I’ve remembered how close knit the ski industry truly is. I should know, I’ve spent a decade deep in its heart, but even then I’m still comparatively a baby. I’m off to spend next week with c.30 ski brand reps in an exhibition centre in Liverpool; they’ve all known each other for 30 years or more, they’ve all worked with and for each other, and they’re all bonded by a love of skiing and a love for each other that I know you’d be hard pressed to find elsewhere.

At the same time, I work 9-5 for an organisation that is truly unique, the Ski Club of Great Britain. We went through a lot of shit over COVID and lost a lot of staff, recruiting in people who had never worked in the industry before. The pay is shit as it is with all non-profits, the hours and stress are shit especially in peak winter season, but every one of this new crop of staff is here and has stayed and, more than that, there are a slew of people who used to work for the Club – going back some two decades – who have come back to work full time, are our “regular” go to guys for graphics or film, or who can still be found in the industry and still ready to pull favours for the Club.

The ski industry is truly unique in how closely knit everyone is, and how, ultimately, everyone works to the same goal – to make sure you (and of course ourselves) have the most amazing time possible on the slopes. And that extends to the connections with those of you not on the “inside”; we are punters, just like you, and want to share this good time with you – and hope, utterly and sincerely, that you’ll share it back with us.

Which is why this tragedy still cuts really deep, even if it was nothing to do with me. Because many of those who lost their lives would have just been having a good time. That’s it. That’s all we’re here to do.

Because it impacted a resort that relies on so many people working shitty hours and for shitty pay to keep it running, some of who would be caught up directly in this, others who now have to live and work around the fallout, all of whom are here to have a good time and deliver a good time and share a good time. The love of what this industry does is, sometimes, the only thing that keeps it going, so to know the heart has been ripped out of a part of it goes beyond the limit of any resort boundaries or Instagram story.

The love of what we do brings this industry so tightly together it can sometimes seem unbreakable. I am a member of the American Avalanche Association, the governing body for avalanche forecasters, educators, ski patrollers and avalanche mitigators in the US – not for anything specific, mind, but their quarterly magazine The Avalanche Review is well worth the read if you care as much about avalanches as I do. Every quarter, TAR kicks off with an In Memorium column covering those in the industry lost to illness, old age, and accidents on the hill. It is a constant reminder of how seriously we take love and loss and how it can extend worldwide.

This is a community, within and without the “industry”, that I am sure continent-wide and no-doubt worldwide, that is reeling, that is in shock, and that will mourn for a long, long time.