Lauberhorn downhill ski race: The craziest day on Switzerland's calendar

"We're not usually this crazy!" a Swiss guy yells at me, grinning and tipping a beer down his throat while hugging a friend of his who's dressed as a T-Rex. He's not kidding, either – they're really not.

The Swiss are usually quite reserved. They don't approach strangers. They're not known for drunken revelry. They're not the types for excessive displays of emotion. Today, however, is special. Today things are different.

Today, it's the Lauberhorn downhill ski race. This is the pinnacle of the Swiss sporting calendar. It's their Melbourne Cup; their Super Bowl. This is the race that doesn't just stop a nation but seems to supercharge it, seems to bring it out of its shell and onto the snowy mountain slopes for a boozy good time.

The venue is Wengen, one of those postcard-perfect alpine villages in the Bernese Oberland. That's where the finish line is. The prime viewing spot for the race, however, is much higher up on the mountain, at a spot where you can see the skiers careen through a narrow gap in some rocks called the Hundschopf, before they screech into a fast turn and zip away out of sight.

That's where tens of thousands of people are gathered to watch today, where there's a carnival atmosphere, where the Swiss are coming out of their collective shells. Flags are being waved; cow bells rung. Cans of beer are being kept cold in the snow. Spectators are cooking up raclette, the Swiss dish of melted cheese on vegetables, with their own mini grills. There's a guy walking around spraying Jaegermeister into people's mouths from an improvised pesticide kit. It's a little crazy, and a lot of fun.

The traditions of the Lauberhorn, however, aren't just about the modern revelry. This is a race that dates back almost 90 years, a cherished tradition for a country that takes its alpine sports very seriously. There's a Swiss racer scheduled to compete today, one of the favourites in fact, which helps explain those flags, those bells, this enthusiasm. There's the feeling that something great could happen today.

Until such time as it does, however, everyone's keen to party. There are several "guggenmusik" bands here – groups of musicians from towns across the country who get together at big events like these and dress in outlandish costumes, paint their faces, drink a heroic amount of booze and attempt to string a few songs together.

They don't do anything traditionally Swiss: it's oom-pah versions of contemporary hits, things like Ed Sheeran played by a big-band of buffoons. The crowds love it, dancing around on the snow, as much to get warm as to appreciate the music.