The mountain itself doesn’t stop anyone. You can still ride up and down on an old mountain bike, free of charge, just as always. There are no gates, no barriers, no restrictions. The mountain belongs to everyone. Yet, over time, fewer and fewer people are riding it. This is due to the mountain bike you ride, the lift you take, and the little conveniences that hardly anyone notices—except those who can afford them. No one wants to exclude anyone. And yet it happens. 

The money has benefited the sport

First, the uncomfortable truth for everyone who’s nodding along: The money has done the sport good. Many trails are legal today where foresters and mountain bikers used to be at war. They’re built, maintained, and signposted. There are riding technique courses and protective gear that actually works. Most of this is financed by the rider with the deep pockets. They help cover the costs of the cable car, which costs millions to build, and support the network that ultimately benefits even those who have little. Anyone who simply curses the high prices forgets where the money goes, among other things. Without riders willing to pay a lot, many legal trails and well-maintained bike parks wouldn’t exist at all.

So the affluent mountain biker isn’t the problem. The problem is who gets left behind. When a sport takes it for granted that everyone can afford the latest gear and buy a lift pass, the others don’t just disappear with a bang. They simply come less often, until eventually they stop showing up altogether. And hardly anyone is moving up from the bottom, because an affordable entry into the sport is almost impossible to find.

When getting started costs as much as a used car

It starts with the mountain bike. A mountain bike was never cheap, but you could afford it. A solid entry-level bike was available for a few hundred francs; a used bike from a neighbor for even less. Today, a new mid-range sports bike costs as much as a used car. Top models exceed ten thousand, fifteen thousand euros. It shifts the bar for everyone.

The biggest boost came from the e-mountain bike. It was meant to open up the mountains, and for many, it does: those returning after an injury, those who could never manage the steep climb right outside their door, those who simply have less time to train—they’re all riding again. That’s a win. But this win comes at a cost. A mountain bike was already expensive before. With a motor, it’s become significantly more expensive.

The simple bicycle remains allowed; no one is banning human power. But when offerings, advertising, and half the infrastructure cater to the expensive gear—the high-end mountain bike, the motor, the lift pass—then those who ride without it become outsiders. Not because of a ban, but because it’s taken for granted.

The free mountain and its many ticket booths

And then there’s the mountain itself. The free one. A chain of ticket booths is spreading over it, piece by piece. A day pass for the lift costs 45 to 66 francs or euros in the summer; a season pass for the major areas easily exceeds a thousand. Add to that the parking fee at the valley station, the coffee up at the hut, the plate of rösti after the last run. Small amounts individually, but together they quickly add up to over a hundred francs a day before you’ve even ridden a single trail.

Herein lies the crux: Each of these barriers has its own good reason, and that is precisely what makes them so effective. No one builds them to exclude people. A cable car that no one pays for stands idle. Software without a lock becomes a liability. A trail without maintenance falls into disrepair. If you look at each ticket booth on its own, you nod in agreement. Only together do they add up to a bill that asks: not whether you can ride, but whether you can pay.

This is the silent selection. It needs no law, no bouncer, no malicious intent. It arises from a series of perfectly reasonable individual decisions that, taken together, create a mountain that belongs to those who can afford it.

The mountain remains; the people do not

It would be easy to claim a conspiracy at this point. There isn’t one: mountain bike prices have actually fallen recently, the warehouses are full, the discounts are big. No one has decided to shut out the less affluent. A sport that caters to the affluent rider rises with them.

No one can take the mountain away from you.

You can ride it, on your old mountain bike, under your own power, for free. No price tag changes that. What changes is everything around it: the sport it has become. Today, it no longer asks only whether someone can ride. It also asks what they ride, where they bought it, what lift pass they show—and quietly sorts people accordingly.