KK or Moose?

It’s a dilemma that anyone visiting St. Anton will, eventually, face. Heading down towards the Galzigbahn base station at the end of the day (which, in practical terms, could be any time between 11am and 4:30pm), the snow sportsman is faced with a straight choice: The ‘Australian-themed’ Krazy Kangaruh’, or the more Tyrolean-Germanic Mooserwirt (or ‘Moose’). Actually, there’s not always a choice, since if you’re coming down from Valuga, down the ‘Happy Valley’ commuter trail, it’s very easy to miss the sign and indicated traverse to the left of the piste, at which point you’re either ‘doing the Moose’, or you’re hiking. They’re within fifty metres of each other, and they crank from 4:30pm until at 8pm (at least, that’s generally when we headed down. So, how do our contenders line up?

Krazy Kangaruh

I don’t know about you, but I’m immediately suspicious of any venue that includes adjectives in its title (there’s a ‘Splendid Bar’ in Zurich, donchaknow). I’m even more on my guard if they’ve switched a ‘C’ for a ‘K’. So, the KK sins on both counts. Outside of St. Anton, it’s the KK that has the lion’s share of fame and publicity. Anyone visiting St. A for the first time is encouraged to visit the KK, as ‘it’s wild, man’. And to a point, it is. My problem with the KK is that it is, perhaps, a victim of its own success. For starters, it has become not so much a bar as a marketing phenomenon. It has a shop, ferchrissake, selling branded t-shirts, fleeces, etc.. Waitresses are young and blond. Barmen aren’t. Two people dressed in kangaroo costumes regularly make laps of the resort on skis, gently encouraging tourists to drop in for a beer. Now, come 4:30pm, it’ll be rammed, noisy and sweaty. Tequila and Jaegermeister girls stalk the tables, pouring spirits down unwary patrons’ throats, then charging them for the privilege. Music is ‘chart and cheese’ – you’ll probably hear some Bon Jovi here. By 6pm, people will be dancing on the benches (but not the tables, because that’s dangerous, apparently). There’s even a ski/board check which, as I’ve mentioned before, is a rather grand title for what is, essentially, a shivering teenager with raffle tickets and a long piece of string. So yes, go to the KK, because it’s ‘wild man, it’s crazy; it goes off’. That’s why people go. The problem is that many of these people simply expect to have fun, if you see what I mean? You often see tables of people, or lines of blokes on stools, sipping their beers and surveying the room, waiting for the fun to happen to them, as if some half naked woman is going to drag them up and force them to dance. Speaking personally, I’ve occasionally felt an ‘edge’ in there – the sort of thing that manifests itself as someone’s refusal to, for instance, shuffle along a bench, or allow someone easy passage past them. It’s fun, it’s everything a ski bar should be, but be prepared to put in a little effort.

Mooserwirt

Now, The Moose is, as I mentioned, decidedly more Tyrolean. It feels bigger than the KK, has a more massive outside deck, which is reached via an archway. The Austrians seem to prefer it here. My first encounter with The Moose was on my second day in St. Anton. My friend and I, having skied hard all day, stumbled upon the Moose at ten to four in the afternoon. All was quiet. We took delivery of our beers, and sat ourselves down to reflect on the day. At that moment, all the blinds on the windows rolled down on automatically, and the opening notes of ‘Europe’s’ ‘The Final Countdown’ boomed over the PA system. And with that, The Moose was a nightclub. It’s always rammed with people outside, and the inside, with its balconies and alcoves stuffed with people, feels like Dante’s vision of hell.(well, actually, a Broadway interpretation of Dante’s vision of hell). Burly waiters (not blonde, not female, and not lighter than sixteen stone) move between the crowds, holding impossibly large trays of beers and glueweins. It’s actually possibly to hail one of these travelling salesmen, select your required drinks from the tray, and pay for them, all without leaving the table you’re standing on. The music is ‘Euro-cheese’. Y’know the video with the fat kid with glasses miming that went round a while ago? The one with the uber-cheesy Euro-pop song? I heard that in The Moose five years ago. It’s a bit more crowded than the KK, and trust me, do not walk in here sober. It’s practically unbearable unless you’ve had a couple of drinks. As usual, not a place for meeting and greeting, really, but if there’s a group of you, and you can bag a table to stand on, a rather memorable (or not!) night can ensue. I should add, there's a shop here too, selling all the usual memorabilia, as well as CDs containing the sort of mixes you'll hear ('Country Roads' techno remix, anyone?). Still, it's a little less obtrusive and, for some reason, bothers me less. All in all, the Moose manages (or seems to) to take itself a little less seriously, and that's more than fine by me.

So, there you have it. You pays your money, you takes your choice. Personally, I have an affection for the Mooserwirte. Not only do I prefer the atmosphere, but I have something to thank The Moose for. Last season, we were out on a heavy powder day. We headed into some dense trees below Gampen. I knew roughly where I was going, but my two friends were new to the area. I found myself surrounded by trees, when the track I was following ran out. Now, I was safe, and I knew roughly where I was, but I wasn’t sure in which direction I should go. Just then, I heard something. As I listened, I could just make out the sounds of euro-pop drifting through the trees. Yes, you guessed it: We followed the music down to the Moose, and salvation.

Just be a little careful when you leave the Moose or the KK, at 8pm, drunk, and in the dark. Confidence is always high, and injuries are common. It can bring your evening to a rather abrupt end.