The forgotten danger of Bremgarten: Why Switzerland banned circuit racing

Picture this: It’s 1953, and Juan Manuel Fangio—the godfather of car control—is threading his Alfa Romeo through a cathedral of Swiss pine trees. Sunlight flickers through the branches as the car dances between moss-covered guardrails and ditches lined with wildflowers. This isn’t a scenic drive—it’s the Bremgarten Circuit, a 7.2-kilometer ribbon of terror disguised as a forest road.

Before Spa’s high-speed sweeps or Monaco’s glitz, Bremgarten was the proving ground for racing’s early daredevils. Built for motorcycles in 1931, the track had no straights, no runoff, and no mercy. Drivers navigated blind crests and off-camber bends where one wrong move meant a date with a tree trunk. “It was like racing through a postcard… if the postcard tried to kill you,” quipped a retired mechanic who worked there.

The dangers were baked into its beauty. Morning fog clung to the woods, turning corners into ice rinks. Summer rains left patches of track slick while others baked dry, tricking tires into false confidence. The fatalities piled up—Achille Varzi, a pre-war legend, died here in 1948 when his Alfa somersaulted into the trees. Hugh Hamilton’s ERA vaulted a ditch in 1934, leaving wreckage scattered like confetti.

Yet for four years (1950-1954), Bremgarten hosted Formula 1’s Swiss Grand Prix. Fangio, Ascari, and Stirling Moss raced here, their cars sliding through leaf-strewn corners as spectators leaned over hay bales. The risk was part of the allure—a cocktail of adrenaline and arrogance that defined 1950s motorsport.

Then came June 11, 1955. At Le Mans, Pierre Levegh’s Mercedes launched into the crowd, killing 84. The tragedy sent shockwaves through Europe. Switzerland—already uneasy about Bremgarten’s body count—reacted swiftly. By year’s end, circuit racing was outlawed nationwide. Overnight, Bremgarten’s roar fell silent.

Today, the forest has reclaimed its territory. Cyclists pedal past weathered concrete barriers. Joggers trace the old start/finish straight, now cracked and sprouting weeds. But stand quietly near the remains of the pits, and you can almost hear it—the ghostly wail of 1950s Alfas, the echo of crowds long gone, the whispers of drivers who flirted with death under those pines.

Switzerland’s ban still stands, making it the only country to fully outlaw circuit racing. Modern F1’s safety crusade owes much to Bremgarten’s brutal lessons. Yet part of us misses that raw, unfiltered edge—the reminder that racing wasn’t always sanitized. Bremgarten wasn’t just a track; it was a mood. A dangerous, beautiful mood that’s now preserved in amber, moss, and memory.