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Canton Valais is not only the capital of après-ski; conquered by the Romans in 25 B.C.E., it’s also home to Switzerland’s largest concentration of ancient thermal baths, including popular spots like Brigerbad and Leukerbad. A lesser-known favorite is Les Bains de Saillon, a 45-minute drive from the Les 4 Vallées ski area (Switzerland’s largest), and home to a refurbished thermal-bath complex. There you can soak your muscles in bubbling waters while watching the pink Alpenglühen (Alpine glow) glide across the toothy summits. Its lengthy outdoor Rivière Thermale, aka lazy river, is lined with grottoes, steam rooms, and saunas, while physical and massage therapists remain at the ready indoors to help visitors recuperate from ski-related injuries—or simply to facilitate some indulgent pampering.

In a country full of swanky resort towns, St. Moritz takes the crown with its wide array of five-star hotels, designer stores, and award-winning restaurants. The town is also home to such exciting activities as skijoring and ice cricket, which help to keep all the celebrity visitors entertained.

When I stepped into the grand lobby of Québec’s Le Château Montebello, I felt like I was entering Paul Bunyan’s living room. Giant timbers braced a three-story-high ceiling, and a massive fireplace in the center radiated warmth in all directions. After checking in, I joined the guests gathered around the six-sided hearth and sank into a leather club chair. I spent the rest of the day by the fire, sipping hot toddies and napping, as the comfort of the crackling flames sent me and the other fireside dozers snuggling deeper into our cushions. I had come to ski some of the 65,000 acres of wooded backcountry that neighbor the resort, but the château was so welcoming, I found it hard to leave.


Often described as the world’s largest log cabin, the lodge and two other main buildings were constructed in 1930 from 10,000 red cedar logs and 500,000 handmade wooden shingles. The houses and the vast surrounding forests were long owned by the politically prominent Papineau family, and until 1970, the estate remained a private nature retreat for Canada’s upper class. As I walked through the château’s halls, the intricately carved banisters and exposed beams reminded me of the great western lodges in the U.S. national parks—only without any grumpy tourists demanding to know where the animals are.

In the guest rooms, deluxe amenities such as flat-screen TVs and rain-dome showerheads upstaged anything found in Yellowstone or Yosemite. Despite the modern perks, rawhide lampshades and other rustic details helped my suite retain its frontier appeal. When I got up to pull the plaid drapes closed that night, I watched a horse-drawn sleigh pass by, glowing in the moonlight against the dark ribbon of the frozen Ottawa River.

Without fresh snow to ski the next morning, I was left to explore the lodge’s other activities. I opted out of getting scrubbed with maple sugar at the spa or unsuccessfully flirting with French-Canadian women by the fire, and instead devoted the day to learning the inscrutable rules of curling. The château has an indoor ice rink dedicated to the sport, a national favorite that’s best described as a combination of shuffleboard and falling down a lot. My instructor was Henri, a kindly sexagenarian who, like many in Québec’s western Outaouais region, seemed more comfortable speaking French than English. As it turns out, kindly reassurance sounds the same in either language. But as my backside repeatedly hit the ice, Henri’s patient polyglot insistence that I was doing “une belle job” grew progressively less convincing.

After my rough-and-tumble day, I dined in the white-tablecloth Aux Chantignoles restaurant. Québecois cuisine dominates the menu, and I followed a dinner of tender venison osso buco with a slice of Québec’s famously sweet and jiggly sugar pie—think pecan pie sans pecans. Snow fell just in time for me to ski through the nearby forest on my last day. I spent a long afternoon there, gliding among stands of birch, pine, and spruce in the rolling Laurentian Highlands. Now and again, I paused to admire one of the countless frozen lakes, their smooth surfaces dotted with tracks left by moose and white-tailed deer. I skied in the silent wilderness until just after sunset. As the scent of a wood fire began to tickle my nose, I grew eager to cozy up by the hearth again. I turned back toward the château’s stone chimney, its rising plume of smoke signaling for my return.
This appeared in the November/December 2010 issue.

This Alpine area in Appenzellerland sits at an altitude of more than 5,000 feet and is home to the much-photographed Aescher-Gasthaus, Switzerland’s version of the Tiger’s Nest Monastery. The 19th-century guesthouse was constructed directly into a jagged cliff face and while guests can no longer stay overnight, it’s a popular place for a meal. The cable car to Aescher departs from Wasserauen, and then a 20-minute hike passes ancient Wildkirchli caves that were once home to prehistoric bears and, later, 16th-century hermits. There’s also a grotto chapel built right into the stone, a small museum, and a sheep farm on some seriously steep meadow terrain.

There’s something dark and offbeat about the Jura, Switzerland’s 26th and youngest canton. Located in a distant corner of the deep, wooded Doubs River Valley bordering France, the town of St. Ursanne embodies some of the canton’s surprising remoteness and offers a glimpse of a medieval village untouched by modernity. According to legend, the village, perched on the banks of the Doubs River, was founded by the 7th-century Irish monk Ursicinus, who was banished from Burgundy and became a hermit here. Arriving visitors will first have to cross the four-arched Doubs Bridge before getting to see the town’s medieval edifices, including 14th-century half-timber burgher houses and a 12th-century collegiate church. Climb the 190 steps to access the St. Ursicinus hermitage or a go on short, signposted hike to some castle ruins and the Doubs Nature Park.

Switzerland has 12 UNESCO World Heritage sites, and the Old Town of Bern was among the first to receive that recognition. You’ll understand why when you stroll along the postcard-perfect Kramgasse, the main axis of the area. At the end of it you’ll find the Zytglogge, the clock tower that is one of the city’s most recognizable symbols. Built on a hill above a bend in the Aare River, the Old Town of Bern has a medieval street plan, though most of the current buildings were constructed in gray sandstone after a fire at the beginning of the 15th century. Miles of arcades wait to be explored—and don’t miss three streets that UNESCO highlighted as among the most characteristic in the area: Postgasse, Gerechtigkeitsgasse, and Junkerngasse.

Up until 2004, Switzerland’s iconic furry friends—St. Bernard dogs—were bred at this monastery and hospice. While the canines have been relocated, the Great St. Bernard Hospice, which sits on a barren, treeless plane at 8,100 feet, is still an active monastery run by Augustinian monks. The steep four-mile ascent from the valley is a killer on foot, but still doable—on groomed trails in summer and on snowshoes in winter. Inside, monks greet you and show you to communal tables in the stone dining hall where vegetable soups are served with hunks of Bagnes cheese, thick slices of brown bread, and honey-sweetened tea (or a carafe of red Dôle wine produced in the Valais region just below, which seems to be the more popular option). Don’t miss the odd museum, displaying local taxidermy, ancient coins, and maps once used for Alpine crossings; the 800-year-old crypt is allegedly stuffed with the bodies of ancient travelers who didn’t survive the journey. A register of “Les passants célèbres” includes Charlemagne, Napoleon, and Alexandré Dumas but omits Charles Dickens, who lived nearby for a summer.

Pack your bikini and a bottle of cold Ticinese rosé and head to the campanile-spiked hills above Locarno. In Switzerland’s sunny and steep-sloped Italian-speaking Canton Ticino, locals and visitors alike love a bracing dip in the cool mountain water—and there’s no better place to witness this than at the historic Ponte dei Salti (Jumping Bridge), a double-arched bridge across the Verzasca River where bronzed young Ticinese plunge into the river’s lustrous emerald depths. From the city of Locarno, the intense hike to the ancient Roman relic hugs the Verzasca River and passes through chestnut groves, vineyards, fragrant pine forests, and the iconic Contra (or Verzasca) Dam where scenes from the James Bond thriller GoldenEye were shot. If your time is limited, take the 45-minute PostBus to the bridge (included with a Swiss Travel Pass) and walk down. Or take the bus all the way to the end of the road in the Alpine village of Sonogno, where a jade-colored waterfall pool, the river’s source, awaits.

Poschiavo is one of the last stops along the UNESCO-listed Rhaetian Railway before it descends towards Tirano, Italy. It’s also one of the few Italian-speaking villages in Switzerland outside of Canton Ticino. The seemingly untouched medieval town is a jolt back in time, with a full-on baroque piazza boasting a stone campanile and a museum stuffed with 16th-century furnishings and antiquities. Don’t leave without stopping for a nibble at its Wednesday market: Local specialties include pizzoccheri (a buckwheat pasta), burrata, local truffles, anise-flavored bread, wine from Campascio in the surrounding valley, and cheese from Caseficio Valposchiavo, a nearby organic dairy. The market is held every Wednesday on Poschiavo’s main piazza.

The Trift Bridge is the longest pedestrian-only suspension bridge in the Swiss Alps, spanning 170 meters (560 ft) at a height of 100 meters (330 ft) but when we got to it somehow it looked longer and higher. As afraid as I was I did not hike all the way there to quit so on the bridge I went. My family did not seem to share my fear, taking off ahead of me on the bridge. The bridge offers a superb view of the Trift Glacier melting into the Triftsee (the lake formed by the glacier’s melt water). From here you can go higher on the mountain but we did not have the strength or the time to continue on.

Villars-sur-Ollon might not top the list of world-famous Swiss ski towns, but this quaint place packs a punch—particularly with its newish bar, Moon Boot Lounge. After tackling some of the region’s finest (and, more importantly, uncrowded) slopes, young skiers and friendly instructors head to the outer-space-inspired Moon Boot to get the party going. Resident DJs spin the latest Euro pop hits, while an extensive cocktail and shot menu keeps the revelry going well into the night.

This cherry-red, roller-coaster-like funicular train located in Canton Bern is a destination unto itself. It’s not only the steepest funicular in Europe, with a top gradient of 106 percent (that is, at an angle of 47 degrees), but it’s also one of the oldest, having been constructed in 1926 to transport engineers to a hydroelectric dam. (It only opened to the public in 2001.) The open-air cars add to the thrill of ascending 3,373 feet to reach an altitude of 6,069 feet.

Swiss contemporary artist Pipilotti Rist’s site-specific permanent installation piece, commissioned by the local bank, takes over an entire city plaza in her hometown. The plaza is draped in red carpet and paint, creating a space that’s an absurd take on the VIP concept. It’s fitting, then, that the “City Lounge” is located in the center of St. Gall’s financial hub of Bleicheli. It gives the illusion of spilling between the alleyways and seeping around corners, covering everything in its path, including fountains, benches, and even a sculpted Porsche. She worked with artist-architect Carlos Martinez to create the site in 2005, which was restored in recent years.

Forty miles from Zurich in the heart of central Switzerland, the Axenstrasse is a historic motorway that’s so achingly scenic it might even cure your vertigo. It winds for seven miles around the base of the Uri Alps hugging the verdant ridge of turquoise Lake Uri (a branch of the four-fingered Vierwaldstätter See—Four Forested Cantons Lake—more familiar to most tourists as Lake Lucerne). It occasionally careens through century-old mountain tunnels and past painted bell towers and Roman-era viaducts scattered around the region’s Alpine villages, where the legendary folk hero William Tell is supposed to have come from. There are numerous picnic areas along the older sections of the Axenstrasse, and the entire stretch of lake is swimmable in the summer. Hikers can find a variety of trails along the road that can take them to higher altitudes, where they can spot ibex, chamois, alpine orchids, purple gentian, and acrobatic alpine choughs, riding the thermals of the warm foehn winds, said by locals to cause madness.

Lucerne is no stranger to mass tourism: The otherwise lovely medieval city swells each summer with list-checking visitors en route to central Switzerland’s famed Pilatus and Titlis mountains. Surprisingly, few of them make the 15-minute trek from the train station to this gorgeous 19th-century badi (open-air swimming area) on the Lucerne National Quay, overlooking the clear blue waters of what the locals call the Vierwaldstätter See (aka Lake Lucerne). The entire facility was meticulously restored in 2010 and remains a favorite of residents for its excellent views of brooding, multi-horned Mount Pilatus, Jean Nouvel’s lakeside KKL performance hall, and Santiago Calatrava’s Lucerne Station Hall—and all without the hassle of tourists.