HONEST TO GOODNESS
Sasha Slater revels in the unspoilt, old-fashioned glamour of Klosters
Some ski resorts are purpose-built and pristine, with highrise apartment blocks, champagne bars carved from ice at the bottom of every slope and Euro rap wafting from piste to piste. They have boutiques selling mink coats and chinchilla hats to women who endure the ankle-wobbling peril of mincing down steep icy streets in high-heeled après-ski boots. Helicopters whir overhead. There are strip clubs and teenagers having Jägerbombs for elevenses. If that is what you look for in an Alpine holiday, then don’t go to Klosters. This little Swiss village – almost a thousand years old – sits snugly in the next valley along from the international wheeler-dealing of Davos, but has only one main street and is probably the least flashy ski resort I’ve ever seen. Which makes its past and present glories all the more surprising…
Admittedly, its hotels have seen a lot of fun and games over the past few decades. Klosters was dubbed ‘Hollywood on the Rocks’ in the 1950s, when Lauren Bacall, Yul Brynner, Greta Garbo, Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck came to party. Gene Kelly danced on the tables at the Chesa Grischuna hotel, and Rex
Harrison swapped musical notes about My Fair Lady with the resident pianist. Deborah Kerr even got married here.
Yet the salopette-clad figures who have made the place famous for the past quarter of a century aren’t Hollywood royalty, but the Real Thing: this is where William and Harry learned to ski; Princess Diana and Sarah Ferguson dipped their bread into cheese fondue in the Walserhof; and Kate and William courted on its gondolas. It’s here that Prince Charles accidentally revealed his feelings about the BBC royal correspondent Nicholas Witchell: ‘I can’t bear that man. I mean, he’s so awful, he really is,’ he muttered, perched on a fence in front of a picturesque little wooden hut, flanked by his sons and answering cheeky questions about his forthcoming wedding to Camilla Parker Bowles.
Looking back at that clip, which is, in retrospect, poignantly comic, I think I can see what really irked the bridegroom-to-be: the weather was damp and muggy, and snow was lying thin on the ground – there wouldn’t be any off-piste action that day.
Actually, unless you’re a truly intrepid and passionate skier like the Prince, the weather holds no threat for holidaymakers to Klosters. When we arrived, the village was waiting in breathless anticipation of snow that was expected over the next couple of days. But even if the dependable horses that trot sheepskin-swathed tourists through the streets, bells jingling, are pulling carriages not sleds, there are still dramatic quantities of snow higher up the mountain. Just take the Prince of Wales cable-car up to Gotschnagrat, where it’s high enough for guaranteed skiing whatever is happening in the valley below.
The Flüela Pass down the road from Klosters, which connects Davos and Susch, is normally impassable in the winter. But without heavy snowfall, it became for us a scene of Bruegel-esque revelry. There are frozen lakes on either side of the dizzyingly beautiful road, and on one of them snow-kiters whirled and turned, scooting across the plain in complicated arabesques. Opposite them, the local fire brigade had sprayed water onto the surface of the frozen lake and smoothed it off, leaving it as level as any Olympic ice rink and approximately three times the size. Here, a hut was set up distributing skates for free. Enterprising villagers were selling glühwein and gigantic wursts from little stalls, and the children of Davos and Klosters were playing ice hockey and practising their spins, jumps and twirls against a denim-blue sky. It felt like the Thames Frost Fair of 1814.
Our guide to this joyous scene was Christian Erpenbeck who owns the Silvretta Parkhotel, the largest in the village and an ideal place from which to enjoy the energetic pleasures of the Alps. Obviously, with skiing the top priority, it is brilliantly geared to cope with snow bunnies of all ages. There are huge boot-rooms, and children are marshalled out and up to the nursery slopes with maximum efficiency – we were in Switzerland after all – but there’s fun to be had après (or, indeed, instead of) ski, if you’re that way inclined, with a bowling alley, a spa whose masseuse has the steeliest hands, perfect for ironing out any early-season cramps, and a swimming pool. Silvretta Stübli is the fondue restaurant; there is also the Rôtisserie for gourmet local Swiss specialties; and the Panorama restaurant, which offers a breakfast combining an extremely impressive array of health-giving grains and coronary-inducing fry-ups.
As well as some of the most spectacular skiing in the world, you can go riding, which brings its own quiet delights. I went out on a surefooted little mare and saw an ermine in its smartest winter white, exploring the undergrowth at dusk, a tiny ghost-weasel waiting for its camouflage of snow. And because Klosters is so very ancient, there are charming little hideaways in the village itself. Museum Nutli Hüschi is a 16th-century cottage filled with home-made furniture that Heidi’s AlmUncle would have recognised. Should you wish to take a touch of Klosters home, Pine Cone is one of the most tempting interiors shops I’ve ever visited. I succumbed to the allure of an impractically large cheeseboard and some evocative carved wooden Christmas decorations. All of which is why I felt such a pang on leaving Klosters. No wonder the Princes keep coming back.
The Silvretta Parkhotel (www.silvretta.ch), from about £195 a room a night; special discounts are available for stays over seven nights and for children. For riding in the area, visit www.pferdetrekking-marugg.ch.