Swiss Bliss

Our reporter tests out the Swiss ski lifestyle, from massage therapy and fine dining to basking in the sun and, oh yes, skiing.

I’m bent in two, hands behind my back, face pressed to the ground, legs scrunched under me. I know what you’re thinking, but I haven’t taken a spill. I’m getting a Thai yoga massage. “A treatment for lazy people,” declares my expert masseur while rubbing the knots out of my quadriceps. “It’s the same movements as yoga but without the effort. Perfect for getting rusty skiers back in shape.”

Normally, when I ski in the Alps, you can’t keep me off the slopes, no matter the weather. But since the chic Tschuggen Grand Hotel introduced its new spa, designed by renowned architect Mario Botta, I can’t resist a little indulgence. This is how I justify it: Skiing is a lifestyle that involves all sorts of pleasures. As I’ve learned from many visits to Switzerland, it’s more than the sum of its parts.

Granted, pampering isn’t a main attraction for the average diehard slope dweller. But times are changing, and skiers are becoming more and more adventurous in regards to their pre- or post-ski activities in this village of barely 2,500 residents.

Every Swiss hill has its own type of skier. Davos is a mecca for Zurich snowboarders. Klosters is the destination of choice for Prince Charles and his retinue. Gstaad and St. Moritz thrive on glamour and powder, while free riders converge on Verbier, cameras stuck to their helmets so as not to miss a single killer move. Arosa, where I am, is popular with Swiss families. And as I schuss down the resort’s 60 or so kilometres of runs, I see why. Most of the runs are nicely maintained and gently sloped, making them friendly to skiers of all levels.

Whatever your preferred peak, this is mountaineer country. Perched atop Weisshorn – Arosa’s highest point at 2,653 metres above sea level – I feel like an explorer, gazing out at a sea of breathtaking mountaintops. Had I grown up here, I’d have wanted to be in these mountains every single day, and, for that, nothing beats downhill skiing; it’s a communion with nature, enhanced with thrills and spills. What could be more exhilarating than experiencing dizzying heights or rubbing up against 1,000-year-old glaciers?

Winter vacations were invented in Switzerland in 1864, when wealthy hotel owner Johannes Badrutt began offering free winter getaways to British summer vacationers at his deluxe hotel in St. Moritz. The first real lift is said to have been built on the slopes of Davos in 1934. Today it’s the variety of state-of-the-art lifts, peppered all over the countryside, that show how life and land are intertwined here; some spring up from villages, while others are found right outside hotel doors.

As I hug the slopes, the edges of my skis carve sweeping curves into the white landscape. At Arosa, like everywhere in the country, the average ski run is left ungroomed, so you can always find powder. Forget about North America’s wide and straight snowy avenues.

Of course, nothing follows up a good ski workout like good food, and this is Switzerland, after all. The Carmennahütte mountain bistro is a typical bergrestaurant, serving hearty meals in a rustic setting against a spectacular backdrop. As I walk by one day at lunch, I can’t resist joining the crowd of hedonists on the patio, who are soaking up the sun’s rays and lounging on deck chairs. While some sit comfortably, sipping chilled white wine, others doze with their feet wrapped in cozy blankets. A handful linger near the champagne bar, soaking up the atmosphere, rubbing their hands together despite the 15°C weather. I sit down and order a rösti, the signature potato cake of Grisons. As I dig in, the man next to me, on vacation from Zurich, strikes up a conversation. “The mountains are great in the summer, but even better in winter,” he exclaims between sips of Féchy, a wine from Vand. “The air is cleaner, there are more people, you make lots of new friends. And there’s a great vibe!”

It takes a couple of days before I notice all the hikers wandering the wintry trails that criss-cross the hill. The ski lifestyle evidently even attracts hordes of non-skiers who come tp breathe the mountain air and socialize. “There are as many kilometres of trails as there are runs,” says my guide, Beni Sonder.

“There’s something for everyone; kids can take lessons while their parents ski at their leisure and their grandparents take a mountain hike. Then they all meet for lunch.”

Some grandparents, though, are more intrepid than others. With his long, flowing beard and ruddy cheeks, the outlandishly named Zasch Zogg looks like a cross between a ZZ Top guitarist and a member of the Santa Claus guild. Clearly, the Arosa native has winter in his bones. “I’ve lived in Australia for 20 years, but I can’t live without winter in Switzerland, so I come here to ski,” he tells me in guttural English.

While Arosa isn’t the best place for expert skiers to test their mettle, the more adventurous can still strap on showshoes and scale one of the untrammelled peaks near the village. “What I like to do is take the gondola to the highest peak, then ski down the back slope to Chur in the next valley,” explains Zogg. “From there, I take a cab to the station and head back to Arosa by train.” I’m tempted to tag along, but the lower valleys are already growing dark. And, besides, I’m perfectly happy with my easy-riding powder experience. The sun has shone most of my trip, much to the delight of Arosa’s resident ski bunnies. 

On one of the few overcast days, I run into a bunch of revellers at Gspänli, a log-cabin stübli (small restaurant) next to the run. By the time I get there, they’re all swilling caffi lutz, cheap brandy made from fruit or flowers. “It’s like this every time they find something to celebrate: a birthday, the weekend, a storm,” chuckles the owner, Esther Sollinger. After two glasses of that rotgut, it’s all I can do to stay standing.

The next day, I hunker down for lunch at the Hörnlihütte, another berg­restaurant, this one perched 2,513 metres above sea level. The patio is deserted due to a fierce wind, but the chalet, built in 1916, is packed. A group is glued to the big screen, watching a downhill race. Others play cards and drink beer. At one table, four turtlenecked jocks holler “Prrrrooooooooost!” every time they knock back a shot of schnapps. Here après-ski tends to start just after lunch. For some, downhill skiing is just an excuse to kick back and escape the winter blahs.

For the most part, however, a strong sense of tradition permeates this glacial playground. One night, I’m woken by a group of joyful yodellers filing past my window. Around the corner from the prestigious Arosa Kulm Hotel, an old shepherd tends his sheep, as though he lived on a remote mountainside. And in the state of Appenzell, an hour away from Zurich, the people still vote by raised hand in the village square, just like they did in the Middle Ages. “We’re very attached to our ancient traditions,” says Pieter Schönenberger, manager of the Arosa Kulm Hotel. “It makes the skiing experience that much more authentic.”

This need to preserve the past might explain the locals’ concern for the environment; the natural setting is exquisite, the hamlets are built in harmony with their surroundings and the houses are tidy and impeccably maintained. Fittingly, on my visit to the wooden hut built in 1550 that houses the Arosa Museum of local history, I happen upon a photo of Thomas Mann, Nobel Prize winner and author of The Magic Mountain – a paean to taking life slow. “Did you know he wrote part of the book in Arosa?” asks Renzo Semadeni, the museum’s long-time guide. I didn’t, but I’m not surprised. Here skiing may rule, but the real majesty is in the mountains.

Write to us: letters@enroutemag.net