Engelberg–Angel’s Eye View

Two things became apparent to me on a fine morning of a recent Sunday when approaching one of Switzerland’s many Alpine ski resorts. The first revelation came when I found my attention once again arrested by a view that amazes me each time. Gazing down at the breath taking panorama of a powder frosted Swiss valley I once again realized how the town Engelberg got its name–Angel Mountain, in English. No bluer skies, no crisper winds–this is truly a canvas of the Gods.

My second revelation was simply how lucky I was to work for one of the most established vacation rental companies in Europe. I know not everyone can just pack up and head out to the Swiss Alps, so I’ve decided to share my good fortune with my readers and describe the experience as best I can.

My father and I set out at the crack of dawn, just as soon as we noticed the weather would be favorable for skiing. Being Swiss and skiing go together like being American and lusting after a first car at sixteen years old. The difference is that while most twenty-somethings can out race their fathers in a car, at 67 my father is still better on the slopes than I am. Naturally he won’t take the same risks as I, but by easing back a little and concentrating on form, skiing is a sport he’ll be able to enjoy virtually his entire life. A life longer than mine, maybe, if I don’t do the same!

I’m afraid to say it was I who called a lunch break, I guess I’m a little proud that my old man can still outlast me. It’d been more than a year since my last Ski session and my legs were as weary as my senses were energized. There are plenty of restaurants to choose from in Engelberg and, all of them being of refined quality, we weren’t picky. Out of practicality as much as tradition we dined on a hot and hearty soup before heading out for a chair lift to take us to one of the runs we had not yet explored. The lift took us over Lake Truebsee, frozen solid. There was something else frozen solid, or rather a series of somethings. I was not sure at first, but then my memory fired on an old magazine article or advertisement and I realized I was looking at a commercial Igloo village. If you want to spend a cool night “on the rocks”, that’s definitely the place to do it.

After a few more great runs on slopes groomed to perfection, upcoming strong winds made further skiing unviable. At the peaks above us, entire clouds of snow were being blown from one ridge to be deposited against the next. We stood in awe of this powerful spectacle! The sight of something so cold can inspire anyone to seek warmth, so the rest of the evening was spent with scotch, a crackling fire, comfort food and the shared memory of a day well spent with Dad.