Snowboarding 2025/2026: the season that was not

There is this one sound that is supposed to heal everything: the crunch when you tighten the binding. The quiet scrape when the board first touches the snow. Normally the season is my ultimate escape—the moment my head goes quiet and my body takes over. This year it was hard, but not because of the ski area or the people there.

It all started mid-November. The anticipation was huge. Weather reports were going wild warning about a winter of the century. And sure enough: late November the snow came in masses, the first areas opened. I thought: this is it. This is the rescue for my head, the recovery I so badly needed after a year full of mental strain and overload. But reality on the mountain hit me hard this year. The ease of past years is gone—the climate, my ADHD, and unfortunately sometimes human failure at the top level, in my eyes.

My love for Riedbergerhorn and the ignorance of the “carpet days”

My heart beats in Balderschwang. My home base at the Schwabenhof, the guys and girls from SBSB—Ulli and his team are, to me, the best ski and snowboard school in all of Europe. That is hanging out with friends; that is home. But what the lift operator BG is pulling—I am speechless. Nothing happens on the website except a rebuild that does not work—just like the Raubach lift in spring 2025. Instead of fixing it—well, let’s leave that for now. (No blame on the employees—blame goes to the top boss for whom “Grasgehren” seems to matter more than influencers… than the people who work at the Schwabenhof.)

You ask yourself: did they finally fix that thing? You do not get answers. Instead they dodge toward Grasgehren because they can open earlier there. But honestly: I never liked Grasgehren much. The warmth you feel at Riedbergerhorn is completely missing there. Yesterday morning we experienced it again: packed up together and left again. Everything feels cold—like the head of the lift company BG, who is the only one who drives up to Riedbergerhorn in the morning and does not even return a “good morning,” even though I count myself among the loyal regulars. Maybe only I see it that way, but it feels wrong. It feels like the customer is just an annoying line item in the business plan for him—but sure, he has plenty of “experience,” dear boss; I have understanding for a lot that moves and worries you, but a “good morning” is normal in the Allgäu, especially when you already said it—and yes, I expect one back. I have been there almost every weekend now, and not once was it returned. That is a shame.

The split conscience: diesel, slopes, and double standards

Then I stand there with my own conscience. I am one of the people who stress the climate—the “evil winter sports guy.” I drive a stinking diesel, used to rack up thousands of miles by car and plane for work, do not use public transit, and my kids ride motocross. I am blessed with a solid portion of double standards, and that honestly weighs on me now. On one side love of nature; on the other a lifestyle that destroys it.

This winter handed me the bill. The snow melts away; it is way too warm. The Raubach lift opened way too late; at Christmas it was chaos: no operations, no snow. As of today, February 14, 2026, the chairlift is still standing still. A tragedy in white and green. Then I get worked up that conservationists blocked the alpine swing connection—but on the other hand I want longer… hmm, what do I want, here comes the double standard again. Lift operator BG has to invest—more snow guns at Riedbergerhorn, a bigger water reservoir. Maybe there needs to be a concept for summer weekends: downhill, skate spot, food trucks—I do not know. I am there in summer too, often. I ride my bike, hike—do something with it. You have potential for that. Make peace with the other side.

A gem breaking on arrogance

And still it could be so beautiful. The alpine swing link between Grasgehren and Riedbergerhorn would be an absolute jewel in the Allgäu. If Balderschwang could finally pull on one rope, we would have a real gem here. But no—you have to fight. Who suffers? The customer, but above all the people on the ground.

Just because a few bosses sit arrogantly on their high horses (the lift operator, in my impression), development stalls. One thinks he eats the smaller one, and the other cannot even say hello. Then as a guest you eventually go somewhere else—Sonnekopf, for example, or Eschach near Kempten, Nesselwang, Tahlerhöhe, and so on—but more on that another time.

What is clear: I still come to Balderschwang—but Schwabenhof, Riedbergerhorn, because SBSB with Martin aka Ulli is there, people who are close to my heart: Martin, Flo, Julian, Julina, and those who joined this year—Jolande, Jonas, Mel, and everyone else. The great people at the lift—Peter, and the one who was at the Anger glacier area all this year. And especially Carsten, who simply does an awesome job and gives us what he can from what he has—and of course Irmi, her daughter, strict Heidi. You all are what Riedbergerhorn is; you are the reason people come, and without Martin and SBSB many would not come at all. And the gentleman who shows up in the morning in his red Skoda and does not say hello needs to hear that too, loud and clear.

When escape stops working

This winter was supposed to be my recovery. A high after a low. But when you stand on the mountain and only see decline—climatic and human—your head stays heavy. The fulfillment of past years is gone. The mental load I actually wanted to bury in the snow rides along on every turn.

It is a fight between a deep love for the board and anger at what is being made of our sport and our region. The 2025/2026 season is not over yet, but it has marked me. It is no longer about “higher, faster, further,” but about the bare survival of a feeling that used to be so simple.

See you on the slope—hopefully soon again with more heart and less ego. As long as there is still white out there.