SNOW Alps 25-26 web - Flipbook - Page 42
We expect stellar skiing, we live for
après. But who among us can resist a
little ski-in, ski-out Rolex shopping?
by LESLIE WOIT
T
he origin story of this perfect day lies not in the
snowbound heart of the Tyrol, but in the heat of the
Nevada desert.
Cast your mind back to 1969, if you can. The swinging ’60s
are in full thrust and a louche Austrian named Günther Aloys
finds himself loose on the Las Vegas Strip. Soaking it all in,
surrounded by go-go dancers and velvet ropes, the air is heady
with hedonism. Amid the neon excess, he sees not chaos, but
inspiration. Not clutter, but art. Why, he wonders, can’t the
mountains be more like this?
Back then, his tiny Tirolean home village of Ischgl was
postcard-pretty to be sure. But sexy enough for the new skiing
jet-set? Probably not. Günther, ever the visionary, imagined
something more. So, while he couldn’t bring the mountains to
Vegas, he vowed to bring a little Vegas to the mountains.
Fast forward to today’s Ischgl — home to one of the slickest
lift networks in the Alps and certainly its most iconic après
ski. Aloys’s original Hotel Elizabeth turns 50 this year — all
mirrored elegance and artful glamour, now a five-star fantasia
helmed by his daughter Mirjam Aloys together with her dynamo
husband Markus Pfister. Another of Vater Günther’s many
brainchildren, the biannual Top of the Mountain Concerts,
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helped seal the town’s reputation as the Alps’ definitive aprèsski amphitheatre since 1995. Sting. Tina. Kylie. Rod... For
the inaugural show, Sir Elton himself was airlifted — white
Steinway and all — onto a snow-swept summit stage. The clouds
parted, the ivories tinkled and, just like that, Ischgl wasn’t just
skiing — it was pop spectacle.
Directly opposite The Elizabeth – now named Elizabeth
Arthotel in appreciation of its gallery-worthy collection of
more than 130 artworks from leading artists from Austria and
beyond — a creamy ride on the sleek 24-person Silvrettabahn
gives lift off. Ischgl’s 150 miles of snow-primed pistes are laced
with a further 45 high-speed lifts (heated, bubbled, and smooth
as a whisper) and more than 1,000 snow cannons. It’s a white
carpet ride, mostly above treeline, as we launch from Idalp
plateau toward the ridge that marks the Austria-Switzerland
border. At the summit, every day skiers in their hundreds
strike theatrical poses in front of the mammoth Ischgl sign.
Showmanship runs in the region’s blood: once, the flamboyant
Günther dumped 300 kilos of ruby-colored minerals into the
Inn River to hype a Simply Red concert. Gloriously, he was
fined 100,000 schillings.
From here, we descend in style: a seven-mile glide to
Photography by Stathis Bouzoukas Courtesy of Elizabeth Arthotel
P E R F E CFT LPULRARCI E S
Ischgl
Inviting
