Kitzbühel’s Hahnenkamm race is a reminder of everything that’s great about ski holidays
- Oops!Something went wrong.Please try again later.
“There is simply no greater spectacle in downhill ski racing,” said Ski Sunday presenter Ed Leigh. And for diehard fans of the BBC’s long-running winter sports show, or indeed any skier worth their salt, it’s not hard to deduce what Leigh was referring to in the last episode.
The Streif, the Hahnenkamm, the Kitzbühel downhill – whatever you want to call it, the World Cup ski race that takes place in the Austrian ski resort of Kitzbühel each January is nothing short of spectacular.
When planning a ski holiday to celebrate my father’s 60th birthday last winter it was top of his ski bucket list. It was decided that four days, staying just outside of Kitzbühel in the hamlet of Kirchberg, which is linked to its neighbour by piste, bus or train, would be the perfect tonic for the milestone birthday.
At the time, unbeknown to me this short trip to the races would be my last holiday beyond the North West of England for over a year, and counting. What’s more, little did we know that while we were having the time of our lives amongst crowds of over +85,000 other ski fans were we in fact at the beginning of a global pandemic and a matter of weeks later the slopes we spent the days exploring would be left abandoned and gatherings of any size beyond your household would be banned – the innocent joy of pre-Covid holidays, hey.
Memories of my last turns on slopes and this bucket-list trip all came flooding back to me last weekend when Ski Sunday showed the highlights from this year’s (crowd-free) racing in Kitzbühel. Watching the racers pushing out the start gate and over the Mausefalle (yes, it really is as steep as they say, an 85 per cent gradient decline and 60- to 80-metre jump to be precise) brought a nostalgic tear of joy to my eye.
The Hahnenkamm race opitomises all that is great about ski holidays and for now, during our lockdown isolation, it’s a fitting reminder of the good times to come beyond this pandemic.
The international community of skiers
Crowds, remember those? Not the type shuffling to keep two metres apart outside a supermarket, but jubilant gatherings of people, moving as one in harmony, delighted to be cheering on their sporting heroes – no malice, not elbow shoving, not stern words and most importantly no face masks.
During the Hahnenkamm race weekend Kitzbühel is one giant crowd, but not in a claustrophobic way. The crowds in the Tirolean town, whether in the race arena, track side on the mountain or on the resort’s streets, were a jubilant affair with the occasional brass band and plenty of chanting and chatter. International flags waved at every turn, in fact we felt obliged to purchase our own from one of the many street venders on the walk into the stadium – I personally chose to wave an Austrian standard in support our of jovial hosts, while my brother strapped a larger-than-him Union Jack to his backpack to pledge allegiance to Team GB – whose racers would only appear on the final day of racing in the slalom. Graham Bell still holds the best British performance on the death-defying downhill course. In 1994, when he was 28 years old, Bell finished twelfth, and still cites it as his best moment on skis.
In the arena Dad and I set up camp next to a group of friendly Austrians, who were obviously regulars to the event. We cheered with them when native Matthias Mayer clocked a time of 1 minute 55 seconds on the 3,312m-long course and clinched the win and they made way for me as I struggled to shuffle through the throng of people carrying a tray of Gluhwein.
These types of cross-border relations are commonplace on the slopes, whether there’s a ski race on or not. Ski resorts are a melting pot for adventurous, likeminded and fresh-air hungry souls – it’s what makes them so unique.
Unless you’re in a major resort, like Val d’Isere or Morzine during February half term, when the hoards of Britons turn the slopes in their snowy version of Blity, you’ll regularly come across foreign dialects in the hotel breakfast queue, dance on a table with an Austrian bar tender or end up in a chairlift conversation with a Frenchman about how to correctly eat a fondue.
Après-ski parties
The medieval Austrian town of Kitzbühel is arguably the most charming ski resort in Europe. Its high walls and cobbled streets are lined with old coaching inns that have been converted into luxury hotels, painted pastel shades, and inviting restaurants.
During Hahnenkamm week these charming streets are transformed into the ‘fan zone.’ A 10-minute walk from the finish arena and stadium the old town hosts one giant party, with bars overflowing onto the street and hungry spectators queuing at the wide variety of food vendors. But this isn’t your average rautious festival affair, while yes the atmosphere was lively, the party was very much under control, despite it being clear than such spectators were surviving the weekend on a liquid-only diet. The food outlets were housed in quaint wooden chalets, oompah music filled the air and the stomp of ski boots echoed off the medieval walls.
We ate delicious German kebabs, drank various warming drinks and mingled among the partygoers until our hearts were full of that post-race buzz – legend has it that the race after party at The Londoner pub (strictly invite-only) goes on until the early hours, with the racers showing their stamina is just as good at the bar as it is on the mountain.
We admitted defeat much earlier than most (it was Dad’s 60th afterall) and retreated to the less crowded, but by no means less lively, establishments of neighbouring hamlet Kirchberg via the efficient five-minute shuttle train (free to spectators). In Eisbar Kirchberg I joined a conga line with a group of Scandivians as part of the post-race celebrations and Dad sang along to Sweet Caroline with fellow international fans in umbrella Bar Dreieck, where the barman proved it is possible to play a small trumpet whilst pouring round-after-round of Weissbier.
Après at the Hahnenkamm is certainly turned up a notch, but it’s the optimy of a snow-fuelled good time, which can be guaranteed on any ski holiday, anywhere. Whether you’re part of the sitting-by-a-cosy-fire or dancing-on-table camp the après-ski atmosphere is infectious, regardless – and unlike anything you’d ever find on any other holiday.
Pushing your limits
Nowhere else on the planet will you find a group of human beings willing to throw themselves down an icy course of turns, jumps and steeps, all in the name of sport, than at an international ski race. On the Streif, the name of the downhill course the racers follow down the Hahnenkamm mountain, competitors can reach speeds of over 140km/h – trust me, the television just doesn’t do it justice.
From the finish area, we watched the racers appear over the top of the final jump, their bodies pushed to the absolute limit, adrenaline bursting through their lycra suits as they crossed the line and the crowds roared.
But you don’t have to throw yourself down a World Cup race track to feel the same rush. Whether you’re a beginner making your first turns (and tumbles) on the nursery field or an expert scuttling out of a helicopter before a steep descent in knee-deep powder – skiing is about pushing yourself, mentally and physically.
Kitzbühel’s local ski area, which spans three separate mountains, the Hahnenkamm, the Kitzbüheler Horn, and neighbouring Bichlalm, was the perfect playground for us to find our own thrills. Under the guidance of local instructor Harry Bichler from Kitzbühel Ski School we explored the slopes of the main Hahnenkamm sector when we weren’t watching the racing.
From our convenient base in Kirchberg we were able to use the resort’s newest gondola, the Fleckalmbahn, which seats 10 and provides speedy access to the intermediate slopes of the Ehrenbachhöhe and Pengelstein mountains. A highlight was the chance to ski from the summit at 1,938m all the way back down to the resort, via a combination of blue and, if we chose, red runs. I relished in the chance to let rip, make wide sweeping turns on perfectly groomed snow, imagining for a second I was competing in my own race to the bottom. It was utterly delightful, especially the morning after the main racing, when the masses stayed in bed to soothe their heads and we had the runs to ourselves.
The average British skier’s limit might be a mere fraction of those who compete on the international ski stage, but nothing beats a ski holiday for finding what those limits are, whilst enjoying every second.
The charm of the mountains
Sporting stadiums don’t often leave you lost for words. But the Alps, Mother Nature's own stadium, quite simply do, no matter how many times you visit.
Over the course of our four-day visit to Kitzbühel we watched the racing at numerous places down the course and at each turn was another picture-perfect backdrop for the jaw-dropping race action.
When not cheering on the competitors, we were out exploring the area. Views of the jagged Kaiser Mountains across the valley were showtopping, especially at dusk when the sun seemed to make them glow.
The 3.7km gondola ride, across the valley to the Jochberg ski area was equally as breathtaking. The 3S-Bahn gondola, which broke all sorts of records when it opened in 2004, rises 400m above the valley below and is suspended from a triple cable system, with just one aerial pylon to support it – shut your eyes and you feel like your flying and if you’re brave enough watch the journey through one of the gondola’s glass bottoms.
On race days, still desperate to get as many turns under our skis as possible, under the advice of our guide Harry, we broke free of the crowd and took red piste 22, which descends down the Hahnenkamm mountain to the finish line. This run ventures away from red 21, which descends adjacent to the race track and is largely crowded with spectators looking for the perfect viewing spot. The trick is to save this piste until after the racing is finished, on Sunday afternoon, when you get your own chance to ski the Streif route.
Instead, run 22 provided the chance to ski woodland tracks and sample uninterrupted views of the resort and finish arena, all in near solitude – we’d have never have guessed there was an international event on. Moments like this, in between the madness of the race festivities, were fleeting reminders of where we were. The mountains are precious and ski holidays are the golden ticket.
Lifelong memories
Since we began skiing as a family of five, when I was 12 years old, my Dad has been a fan of Ski Sunday – the weekly episodes, which air between January and February each winter, are a gentle reminder of life on the slopes. Whether you enjoy watching racing or not, it’s globally recognisable theme tune is a catalyst that has sparked many a “should be book a ski holiday?” conversation.
Our trip to the Hahnenkamm was a real memory-maker – a holiday that is now even more precious than we first thought it would be. At every turn and with every roar of the crowd, we felt like we were living in our own episode of Ski Sunday – especially when we bumped into fellow Lancastrian and British shining Alpine star Dave Ryding in the finish area. Dad proved age is just a number and couldn’t help his excitement to buy novelty traditional Tirolean hats for us all to wear.
Memories like this, with family and loved ones have been few and far between during this pandemic. I’ll be eternally grateful to our last ski holiday, and all the others that preceded it from our first ski lessons together to the time we got snowed in by avalanches, for giving us moments to cherish for a lifetime. Long may they continue.
