Carving out a greener future: how the Swiss ski resort of Laax is meeting the climate crisis head on

However, this catastrophe is not universal. Higher up the mountains, where the air is colder and snowfall more reliable, normal service continues, at least for now. I find myself in the Swiss resort of Laax, nestled in the canton of Grisons, an area renowned for its majestic peaks and deep valleys. Here, the majority of the slopes comfortably sit at about 2,000 meters (approximately 6,560 feet) and above, ensuring a degree of snow-security that lower resorts can only envy. The atmosphere is vibrant, a testament to a resort that has successfully cultivated a diverse winter sports culture. The colossal halfpipe, a legendary fixture in the freestyle world, hums with activity. Dudes in baggy trousers and headphones, embodying a laid-back cool, nonchalantly hone their double corks and cab 900s, perhaps dreaming of glory at the annual Laax Open, a premier event on the snowboarding calendar. On the more traditional pistes, a different kind of mastery is on display: four-year-olds, barely taller than their skis, navigate turns with an innate grace, seemingly having mastered the art of gliding before they could fully articulate their first sentences – a common sight in Switzerland’s esteemed ski schools. And then, showcasing Switzerland’s delightfully eccentric side, a trio of young men, strikingly clad in authentic First World War greatcoats, glide by on antique wooden skis, propelling themselves with rough-hewn quarter-staves, a quirky nod to the sport’s heritage that often makes an appearance during special events or historical reenactments, adding an unexpected layer of charm to the modern resort.

Yet, beneath this bustling surface, a crucial question looms: Is this entire magnificent enterprise, this cherished tradition of winter sports, destined to vanish, perhaps within the lifetimes of our children? To frame it in stark, uncompromising terms: Are ski resorts facing a predicament akin to oil-dependent desert states, witnessing their sole, irreplaceable source of wealth – snow – dwindle and eventually disappear? The parallels are chilling, highlighting the economic vulnerability of regions reliant on a single, environmentally sensitive resource.

If this existential threat is indeed real, Laax, a resort often characterized by its innovative spirit, is certainly not conceding defeat without a formidable fight. This distinctive Swiss destination, strategically positioned relatively close to the Austrian border, is embarking on an exceptionally ambitious journey: a bold attempt to achieve carbon neutrality by 2030. This isn’t merely a vague aspiration; it’s a meticulously planned goal that demands radical transformations. The objectives include the complete elimination of all fossil fuel use, ensuring that all energy generation is derived from sustainable sources, and implementing comprehensive strategies to reduce food waste to an absolute minimum. Stung by the increasing volume of climate crisis criticism directed at the energy-intensive ski industry – from diesel-powered snow groomers to vast snowmaking operations and energy-hungry lift systems – the community of Laax has proactively positioned itself far ahead of most of its Alpine counterparts. What I have come to witness here may very well offer a compelling blueprint for the future of winter sports, a model of resilience and responsibility.

Deep in the heart of Laax, I am fortunate to meet Reto Gurtner, the 71-year-old CEO of the Flims Laax resort, a man whose family legacy is intertwined with the resort’s very foundation. His father, a visionary in his own right, installed the first ski lifts back in 1962. "Although there had been summer visitors since the 19th century, Laax was a poor village back then," Gurtner recounts, painting a picture of a humble agricultural community before the advent of modern tourism. The 1970s marked a pivotal turning point in Gurtner’s life and, consequently, for Laax. While pursuing his studies at UCLA, under the perpetually sunny skies of California, he discovered skateboarding. Even now, decades later, the memory rekindles a spark in his eyes. "They were inventing new sports, and I loved the style: no nationalism or militarism. Skateboards, mountain bikes, snowboards – if you did a good run, everyone applauded. It didn’t matter who you were. There was a freedom about it." This exposure to counter-culture, innovation, and an inclusive ethos profoundly shaped his philosophy.

He returned home armed not just with a degree in economics but, more importantly, with a snowboard and a mountain bike – symbols of a burgeoning lifestyle movement. "We went up on the glacier and built the first halfpipe with shovels," he recalls, a testament to the pioneering spirit that still defines the resort. Initially, his radical ideas met with considerable resistance. Local ski outfitters, deeply entrenched in traditional skiing culture, flatly refused to stock snowboards, viewing them as a dangerous fad. In the summer, farmers were outraged by the sight of cyclists "pelting down mountain tracks," fearing damage to their land and livestock. Gurtner, however, possessed a shrewd understanding of human nature. "We made every cyclist wear a bib," he says with a chuckle. "Then the farmers thought it was a race and were fine with that." This anecdote perfectly encapsulates his unique blend of visionary thinking and practical, culturally sensitive problem-solving.

A conversation with Gurtner is a thrilling, intellectual roller coaster, cartwheeling through diverse topics from the disruptive innovation of Steve Jobs to the profound philosophical insights of German poets and the raw authenticity of the Wu-Tang Clan. He eloquently describes how his eclectic influences and visionary approach coalesced into something he terms "greenstyle" – an optimistic, holistic, and meticulously designed future where sustainability and lifestyle are inextricably linked. This philosophy transcends mere environmentalism; it’s about crafting an experience that is both responsible and exhilarating.

That "greenstyle" vision is palpable throughout the resort’s newer infrastructure, nowhere more so than at the advanced ski lift system in the neighboring village of Flims. Accompanied by local guide Doris Rellstab, a seasoned veteran of winter sports, I head towards this marvel of engineering. "The new gondola system does away with unoccupied ski gondolas going up and down the mountainside," she explains, highlighting a common inefficiency in older lift designs. A sophisticated, AI-driven algorithm dynamically manages passenger flow, allowing skiers to select one of five distinct destinations up the mountain. The system then dispatches individual gondolas on an as-needed basis, meticulously balancing energy efficiency with real-time passenger demand. As we are lifted smoothly and silently over the snow-dusted fir trees, the quiet efficacy of this on-demand system becomes immediately apparent, a testament to smart design reducing both environmental footprint and operational costs.

Rellstab, whose career spans half a century, reflects on the profound changes she has witnessed in winter sports. "Yesterday, I taught my first Arab group. They were a lot of fun." Her observation underscores the broadening appeal of Alpine tourism, with resorts actively diversifying their visitor base beyond traditional European markets, embracing a global clientele and cultural exchange.

Our destination for a snowshoeing excursion is Segnes, a stunning expanse high above the treeline at 2,100 meters (6,890 feet). Having disembarked from the innovative gondola, we don our snowshoes and venture into a vast, bowl-shaped, snow-filled valley. A couple of miles ahead, the valley dramatically terminates in a sheer rock face, crowned by a jagged, awe-inspiring range of peaks. "That’s the Tschingelhörner," Rellstab points out. "Can you see the line in the rock below the peaks? That was once a geological mystery." This distinctive line, known as the Glarus Thrust, forms part of the Sardona Tectonic Arena, a UNESCO World Heritage site, recognized for its exceptional illustration of mountain building processes.

The mystery Rellstab refers to perplexed geologists for generations. In 1848, the celebrated British geologist Roderick Impey Murchison arrived here, accompanied by the eminent local expert Arnold Escher von der Linth. They were confronted with an inexplicable anomaly: older Permian-Triassic rocks appeared to be overlaying much younger Tertiary Flysch sediments. This "upside-down" geological sequence defied the prevailing understanding of rock formation and stratification, a puzzle for which there was no satisfactory explanation at the time. It took more than a century for scientists to fully unravel the enigma: the ancient African tectonic plate was not merely colliding with but literally riding up and over the younger European one, a massive thrust fault that had inverted vast sections of the Earth’s crust. The world, indeed, was geologically upside down, a profound discovery that laid crucial groundwork for the modern theory of plate tectonics.

In summer, this same area transforms into a vibrant tapestry of rare Alpine flowers, and a charming mountain hut offers refuge for hikers. As we traverse the snow, Rellstab points to delicate tracks next to us. "Next to us are the tracks of a snow hare. Wildlife is doing well here," she notes, her voice reflecting a quiet pride. "The wolf and lynx have both returned." This resurgence of apex predators is a powerful indicator of a recovering ecosystem.

Indeed, climate change appears to be inadvertently assisting the re-establishment of wolf populations in the Alps. The first documented Alpine wolf pack was recorded in 1993, and by 2021, their numbers had surged to over 250 packs, exhibiting an impressive annual growth rate of approximately 25%. Switzerland, once entirely devoid of wolves, now hosts about 40 packs, a remarkable ecological turnaround. Rellstab demonstrates a local website where wolf sightings are diligently monitored. While their return is celebrated by conservationists, it also presents challenges, particularly conflicts with farmers and hunters over livestock protection and perceived competition for game. However, robust herd protection measures, compensation schemes, and ongoing public education efforts are helping to manage these conflicts, allowing the wolf population to continue its growth, indicating that certain elements of the ecosystem are adapting, and perhaps even thriving, in the context of retreating snowlines and shifting Alpine conditions.

Perhaps more surprising is Reto Gurtner’s perspective that the perceived lack of natural snow is not a major source of worry for the resort. As he sagely points out: "Laax is not snow-dependent. A halfpipe or a snow freestyle playground doesn’t need a lot, and we make it with hydropower. And we’ve got mountain bikes and amazing hikes." This statement encapsulates Laax’s strategic diversification and its commitment to sustainable snowmaking. The resort uses 100% renewable energy, primarily hydropower from local sources, to power its operations, including its advanced snowmaking facilities. Unlike many other Alpine resorts, Laax rigorously avoids adding any chemical or biological additives to the water in its snow cannons, ensuring that the artificial snow is simply frozen water. Furthermore, with the advent of increasingly efficient and electric piste-grooming machinery, the environmental footprint of maintaining slopes is being significantly reduced. Cannon snow, while energy-intensive, is also more durable than natural snow, surviving longer during thaw periods and offering a more consistent surface for freestyle features. This ensures a reliable winter product even with fluctuating natural snowfall.

Later that day, I find myself on my skis, enjoying the blue runs. Conditions are a touch icy, prompting a cautious approach. I drift onto a less frequented route that winds down into the valley. As I crest a ridge, the landscape undergoes a dramatic transformation: the natural snow on either side of the piste has vanished, replaced by verdant green pasture dotted with charming old barns. Only the piste remains, a broad, brilliant white ribbon curling elegantly through the landscape. This stark visual contrast highlights the resilience of cannon snow, which is engineered to be denser and more durable, thus surviving longer than natural snow when temperatures rise. Most Alpine ski stations are already heavily reliant on artificial snowmaking to guarantee their seasons, but Laax’s commitment to sustainable power sources and its policy of avoiding chemical additives distinguishes its approach, demonstrating that even energy-intensive operations can be managed with environmental responsibility.

At the foot of the hill, I arrive in Falera, a tranquil village adjacent to Laax. Here, an old chairlift, groaning and creaking with age, serves as a portal to a bygone era. As I approach, it grinds to a halt. "Sorry," says the attendant, with a polite shrug, "we are closed now." I decide to wander into the village, a picturesque ensemble of hand-hewn wooden barns with meticulously stacked logs, exuding a timeless charm. Notably, there are no cars in sight, reinforcing Falera’s commitment to a quieter, more traditional way of life. If Laax represents the technological vanguard of sustainability, its neighbor Falera appears to have chosen a less frenetic, more traditional route to net-zero, focusing on preserving its natural environment and minimizing impact through simplicity and local stewardship. After about 20 minutes, an electric bus, silent and efficient, appears. As I ride back to Laax, I check the wildlife website Rellstab had recommended. And I get a genuine shock. According to a CCTV report from just a few hours earlier, a wolf had walked within a mile of where I had been skiing. Stepping off the bus outside my hotel, as evening descends, I pause. The town is hushed, a silence largely attributable to the ubiquitous electric motors of vehicles and lifts. Climate change, I reflect, is nothing if not unpredictable. When the wolves howl, you will hear them. Their return, amidst a landscape of shifting snowlines and innovative human adaptation, is a powerful, poignant symbol of a world in flux, a testament to both nature’s resilience and humanity’s urgent need for responsible stewardship.

The trip was provided by Flims Laax and rental equipment by Ecoski. Trains run from Zurich via Chur and the spectacular Rhine Gorge to Ilanz, where there’s a convenient bus service to Laax. Inghams offers a seven-night trip to Laax from £1,618pp B&B, including flights.