I haven’t yet found my ski legs. If you’re unfamiliar, this is a phrase British people use to explain just how unprepared we are for a sport that involves chucking yourself down a mountain for one week a year, despite spending the remaining 51 weeks behind a laptop.
We did give ourselves a bit more of a chance to adjust this time, mind. For this year we travelled by train. London (altitude 11m) became Geneva (375m) which became Crans Montana (1,495m) and finally Verbier (1,500m, with a summit of 3,300m).
You may think this choice was due to the cost of living crisis (correct), the chance of breakdown (certainly, both car and relationship) or the sky-high hire prices (without a doubt). But also, arriving into the Alps by train is a delight. A sustainably-minded, CO2-saving delight.
Swiss trains are impeccable, and impeccably prompt. Forget hair-raising, voice-raising mountain drives. Forget snow chains and backseat drivers. Forget tolls. And, given that it also affords a bit of freedom (most mountain resorts are relatively easy to train-travel between) you can opt for more than one base. Not wishing to be overly ambitious, we decided on three hotels in two locations: LeCrans and Chetzeron in Crans-Montana, and Experimental Chalet in Verbier. All aboard.
LeCRANS, CRANS-MONTANA
For moving mountains
Let it be known that this was my first time experiencing a fireplace butler, but hopefully not my last. We arrived to LeCrans late evening – the Montana funicular is the closest station just 10 minutes away, but Sierre isn’t far either with services from Geneva, Milan, Zurich and Basel – and readily accepted the welcome champagne and offer of a toasty in-room fire, expertly lit by our fireplace butler. At once, everything else melted away – though thankfully not the snow.
All rooms here are unique: influenced by (and named after) rocky ranges the world over. We were in the Everest suite, which was thoughtfully designed with rich wood panelling and subtle greens, golds and intricate murals.
I did have a nosey in other rooms, all of which were entirely wonderful in their own way – but the thing I noticed most was the lighting. You know when a hotel just absolutely nails the lighting? Golden wall lamps, delicate standing readers, clever use of natural light, ample fireplaces… It all created a resounding alpine warmth.
Our days here started with misty sunrises – the sky a milky purple – then breakfast on the terrace cosseted by fluffy blankets and a view of the jagged Valais. Then to the action: it’s a 30-second shuffle from the lair-like boot room to the piste.
Come après-time we made use of the glorious spa, and its slate-lined sunken outdoor pool surrounded entirely by snow and with a view of pine-studded peaks. I’d implore you to watch sunset from the pool: the sky starts a fiery red, then apricot orange, then a deeper, darker blue than you ever thought possible.
Dinner is quite the affair – panoramic views are afforded from each candle- and crisp-linen-topped table in the restaurant. To one side is an alcove bar with a roaring fireplace and scarlet sofas, towards the back are longer tables for wine tasting. We took our time over three courses: and when the restaurant had entirely emptied out I jumped on the baby grand (confidence comes easier at altitude) with the permission of the maître d’.
HOTEL CHETZERON, CRANS-MONTANA
For fresh tracks
Our next stop was Hotel Chetzeron, slap bang in the middle of a red run at 2,112m (I’d be ill advised to suggest this one to beginners). The journey between the two was entirely seamless. LeCrans dropped our bags at the meeting point in town, Chetzeron took them up the mountain via snowcat, and we skied the entire day without a worry.
When you’re done swishing and swooshing you simply parallel turn towards Chetzeron’s doors (they’re quite impossible to miss). You can also travel up and down by snowcat, which we opted for when venturing out for dinner in town on one of the evenings.
Chetzeron was once a gondola station, so the angular stone structure has exceptional views of its surrounds. Rooms are sleek – feng-shui expertise was sought from a sect of Taoist monks – and I spent some time curled up in the picture window, with a particularly arresting view of a Swiss flag flying in front of the Matterhorn.
Breakfast is served in the former ‘mouth’ of the station, now wrapped in glass and panelled with oak. Towering windows frame the snow-globe views outside. I’m talking about the light again, but it was flooded golden here in the morning – making your positioning on the mountain feel even more ethereal.
Outside, terraces are laden with loungers and blankets for morning coffees or high-altitude après-ski. There’s an inviting heated pool too – steam curls off and up as skiers slip, slide and soar on the nearby runs.
EXPERIMENTAL CHALET, VERBIER
For the sunny south
It’s not that I’m a strictly fair weather skier, but bluebird days are my kind of days. So Verbier has quite the appeal – most of the runs here face south, meaning that when the sun doth shine it’s a glorious place to be, ski, and après.
We started our journey from Crans Montana by taking the funicular down to Sierre, then a short train to Martigny and a final stretch to Le Chable, where we were scooped by the Experimental team. Verbier is an exceptionally handsome log-cabin town, and Experimental Chalet evokes this too but with a splash of Seventies glamour.
The exterior is white-washed with Swiss flag-red shutters and dark slatted terraces. Inside you’ll find a first-floor cocktail bar with panelled walls and sink-in sofas; and a restaurant serving thoughtfully curated comfort food around a roaring central fireplace.
The front desk took one look at my city-tired skin and booked me in for a facial – they’ve collaborated with French skin specialists Biologique Recherche for some truly transformative treatments – which set me up perfectly for a final day on the slopes, seeing as much of Les 4 Vallees 400km of piste as possible.
From my window seat on the train to Geneva I could still see the mountains; as dramatic and grandiose as the Alps are – but the lakes started rolling in before long, too.
There’s nothing quite like the highs and lows of a ski holiday. Some are implied (hello, altitude), others by choice (grüezi, gruelling hangover). There’s bumps and scrapes and plenty of ‘holy shit!’ moments. And by the time we arrived back to London, I’d once again lost my ski legs. Ah well, I’ll find them again next year – with the help of the humble train.
Ready to make tracks? Read our guide to crossing the alps by train.
All photography by the author