Last year we followed through on a long-held promise to bring our then 14-year-old son Dash on his first ski trip. Switzerland was everything he had imagined and, naturally, within three days he was already able to race me to the base of every slope (we didn’t name him Dash for nothing ...). The problem with a skiing holiday is that as soon as you return home the desire sets in immediately to start planning another trip, or it does if you are 14 and not picking up the tab.
This time it was a father-son trip. We began looking at resorts in the French-speaking side of Switzerland to pretend that our trip had the dual purpose of helping Dash prepare for his looming Junior Cert exam. Villars-sur-Ollon is one of the closest resorts to Geneva Airport and by 1936 the town had already become a big player with the roll-out of Switzerland’s first ski-lift. For our last trip we stayed in an eco-resort with cutting-edge, carbon-neutral technology. I thought it would be interesting on this occasion to visit a traditional Swiss ski village to immerse ourselves in the roots of our new favourite sport.
Swiss Air has to be one of the last airlines to offer complimentary bottles of water – followed by a piece of free chocolate. The panorama of the snow-covered Alps comes into view as you descend towards Geneva. Swiss efficiency had us on-board a train for Villars-sur-Ollon within minutes and soon we were hugging the shore of Lake Geneva, glimpsing into the back gardens of waterside villas and envying their owners. A local bus carried us up the final stretch featuring hairpin bends and high-altitude vineyards until our destination appeared before us on a sunny plateau clinging on to the side of the mountain.
[ A skiing holiday with small children? It can be relaxing, high octane funOpens in new window ]
Alighting at the station we were stopped in our tracks by the vista of the appropriately named Dents du Midi, the teeth of the south, dozens of jagged canine peaks stretched in a towering, 30km line across the other side of the Rhône valley. I understood immediately why Villars was chosen as the birthplace of the country’s ski industry; it was worth coming here for this view alone.
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Hotel Viu is conveniently located mere steps from the station and the reason for its naming became apparent as we were shown to our room with a balcony overlooking the same line of snow-covered mountains which seemed to turn pink as afternoon approached. The hotel diningroom has a table for lunch and once I stopped staring agape out the window at Mont Blanc I began to notice that we might be the only diners not wearing cashmere. Welcome to Switzerland!
We checked out the town next and dodged the odd Ferrari as we photographed the traditional wooden chalets lining the streets and hillsides. Hergé, the creator of the Tin Tin comics, lived in one of these chalets and we read about his fascinating life at a permanent exhibition about his work in the Villars Palace Hotel. This five-star grand dame wouldn’t look out of place in a Wes Anderson film, with its long facade hovering over half the town.
Our walk next took us to College Alpin International Beau Soleil, the most expensive school in the world. The fees may be just a little out of our price range for Dash but we were pleased to find the more affordable Aiglon College around the corner, clocking in as the third-most expensive in the world. Time to get saving.
A bus took us to Frience for some tobogganing on the Alpes des Chaux; the run conveniently ends at le Refuge de Frience, housed in a 200-year-old chalet groaning under a roof of heavy snow. We had a dinner reservation and immediately ordered the fondue and a bottle of wine from one of the vineyards we passed in the morning.
The Swiss like to keep their excellent wines for themselves and only a fraction of their bottles manage to make it out of the country. Our cheese fondue was also excellent and it has quite the celebrity following. Keith Richards used to have a house nearby, and, according to legend, he, and fellow Rolling Stone Mick Jagger broke in here one night to sample the fondue out of hours. The chef came upon the drunken duo and dishes were washed as payment. Knowing full well who they were, chef finally cracked a smile and the night concluded with even more wine.
A taxi brought us back down the hill to our hotel. We both got to practice our French with our amiable Portuguese driver who forgave our mistakes with the language and explained that many of his country people come to Switzerland for work reasons. Two players of Portuguese descent are members of the Swiss football team.
The next morning it was finally time to hit the slopes and after maxing out the breakfast buffet we joined the queue for the cogwheel train to transport us up the mountain to Bretaye, at 1,806 metres. Most of our fellow skiers wedged into the carriage seemed to be Swiss, with the odd British accent rising above the chatter. A final chairlift whisked us up another 300m to the summit of Le Grand Chamossaire, the highest peak in the hood, and with trepidation we set off down the red slope, praying that our muscle memory would kick in to guide us down safely.
Miraculously, the art of turning on an icy, 45 degree precipice came back to us and despite several tumbles and the odd loud curse we managed to acquit ourselves somewhat capably. A red slope may have been a little optimistic for our first foray on skis in a year – the blue slope at Chaux Ronde suited our out-of-practice limbs a little better.
Lunch beckoned at La Maison de Montagne’s sunny terrace, with views the whole way down the valley to Villars. This handsome stone restaurant sports the distinctive red and white, diagonally striped shutters common to all the mountain chalets, acting as a beacon in blizzard conditions. Despite Switzerland’s neutrality, army service is mandatory for all able-bodied males and our restaurant started out in the 1930s as a military training camp. Thankfully army rations no longer prevail and giant röstis soon appeared, smothered in Swiss cheese – the national dish, apparently.
By 4pm we had begun to perfect our turns, our fellow skiers appreciated the improvement in both our technique and our language, and after several more runs down the Chaux Ronde we rejoined the queue for the cogwheel train to return back to Villars. One of the carriages features a cardboard compactor, allowing five times more recyclable material to be taken back down the mountain. The Swiss think of everything. Or rather Summit Foundation does, a not-for-profit organisation that advises the local ski industry on how to reverse its carbon footprint.
Following a swim at the hotel pool (what a tough holiday) we joined the après-ski throng in the town square where multiple stalls offer vin-chaud and chocolat-chaud. The previous day our lack of cashmere gave us away as blow-ins but that evening in the pretzel queue it was our lack of a dog. This lack was even more obvious at dinner in Le Peppino where every second customer seemed to have a sleeping dog under their table. We also seemed to be the only ones in the room fazed by the €35 pizzas on the menu. It turned out that, like most things in Switzerland, they were worth the splurge.
Les Diablerets, 10km to the east of Villars, was viewed in the Middle Ages as a cursed and dangerous place where the devil raged in the looming cliffs surrounding the village. It seemed a little less violent these days, its pretty wooden houses spread out below us after an early morning cross-mountain ski from Bretaye.
A shuttle bus delivered us to the cable-car station several minutes up the road and soon we were deposited at Glacier 3,000, a ski area straddling the Tsanfleuron Glacier, with the Matterhorn, Jungfrau and Mont Blanc all showboating in the distance. However, no soaring peak could compete with the pack of howling huskies doing laps of the snow field ahead of us and, given that Call of the Wild is one of our favourite books, we immediately signed up for a sled ride ourselves. More woo-wooing ensued as we made ready to take off – the huskies responded enthusiastically too – and the five-minute adventure will be remembered as the most joyous moment of our trip.
[ Everything comes naturally in a French Alpine villageOpens in new window ]
The Red Run, a new 8km-long slope, was opened here in recent years; the huskies sadly receded into the distance as we descended 1,700 metres without a fall. The stripy shutters of Cabane des Diablerets caught our attention at the midway point and we recharged with bottles of Vivi Kola and plates of comforting Croûte au Fromage, a deconstructed toasted ham sandwich in a pool of cheese with a fried egg on top.
The post-lunch slump set in and our progress down the mountain continued at a slower pace. Our tardiness meant we ran out of time to visit the Peak Walk by Tissot, the world’s only suspension bridge connecting two mountain summits. Several of the billboards in Geneva Airport feature images of this marvel of engineering. No heavy cheese lunch for us next time. Emily, our guide for the day, explained that several Bollywood films have been shot in this part of Switzerland and that Indian tourists, unused to snow, have been known to show up in flip-flops when visiting this glacier.
On our last night in Villars dinner beckoned in our hotel restaurant. Hotel Viu was recently acquired by Chinese owners and after all the delicious cheese-based Swiss food it was nice to shake things up with plates of sweet-and-sour chicken delivered to our table by a robot waiter.
After dinner we took a final night-time stroll through the town, envying the 3,000 residents who call this eyrie home. A glimpse at the prices in the estate agents’ window confirmed that we won’t become neighbours with these lucky residents any time soon. No morning coffees with Formula One legends Jacques Villeneuve or David Coulthard for us. We may have to make do instead with a return trip next year.
This trip was provided by Switzerland Tourism. For more information on Switzerland visit MySwitzerland.com. Swiss.com fly daily from Dublin to Geneva and Zurich
