Switzerland 

Here’s a new definition of kindness: it’s the tourist director of this renowned resort deciding not to lead me through the mogul field down from the Mont Fort peak. But Patrick Messeiller did insist that we at least go up by cable car without our skis to look at the magnificent panorama.

White mountains as far as the horizon. The Matterhorn in one direction. Mont Blanc, western Europe’s highest, in another. The glacier atop Les Diablerets identifiable in the distance. And below us a fierce mogul field.

If you enlarge the map above, you can see the squiggle from the top. I had done it in earlier visits, but decided not to mention it to Patrick. As a result I had a highly enjoyable morning following him on lesser slopes. It was late March in 2006. The corduroy-groomed runs were firm at first, but softened as we sped around. We covered a lot of territory; Patrick was eager to show me Verbier’s segment of the interconnected Four Valleys.

He was particularly proud of the mid-mountain lift pictured above. We had several rides on it, enjoying the warm sun by opting for six-pack chairs instead of gondolas. Often we had animated conversations with other skiers, most of whom knew Patrick. He’s been in Verbier tourism for two decades.

It was my kind of skiing---wide trails sculpted out of endless snowfields. By noon the terrain had squooshed up. Time for a leisurely lunch in the Carlsberg Chalet on the mountain, where the menu was also to my liking. Both of us ordered Rösti with Spiegelei (shredded fried potatoes topped with a sunny-side-up egg). An ideal combination to linger over, discuss the successful season and exchange anecdotes about mutual friends.

One item that always enters such a conversation is the cost comparison between skiing in the Alps versus the Rockies. Even with the euro trampling the dollar, Europe still stacks up well when you factor in all the elements. Lift tickets are still a bargain, often $25 a day less than those at major resorts in the U.S. Half-board arrangements in comfortable hotels are hard to beat economically, let alone for ambience.

Patrick didn’t have to remind me about the snow. Long ago he chastised me (and other writers) for reporting “no snow” in the Alps.

“Above 6,000 feet there is always snow,” he asserted then.

With a village almost a mile high and Mont Fort more than double that, he easily proves his point.

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For more information on this impressive resort, see my Spotlight below and visit their web site at www.Verbier.ch.

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POINT OF VIEW
By Bob Dever

I was about to be 60 years old. Deep down I understood that, irrespective of what I saw in the mirror, I was much the same as at 35. My weight was OK, even though I sometimes think quantity is a substitute for quality. I ski, play tennis, exercise on a regular basis, and overall feel pretty good.

I decided that, before it's too late (whatever that means), I better get the parachuting done and out of the way. Don’t know why. Just because a former president of the United States does things like this, when he’s out of office, doesn't lend any logic to a decision on my part that puts me in a situation where 30 square yards of nylon separates me from a very unforgiving earth.

My 60th birthday came while I was skiing in Verbier. The resort offers a recreational skier everything he might want -- the European travel experience; the above the tree line skiing that differentiates the Alps from the Rockies; an abundance of groomed trails suitable for a beginner or intermediate skier; endless off-piste skiing for those less faint of heart than me; and just about any other winter sporting activity and amenity.

Verbier is a great place, well worth the time and effort it takes to get there.

Included in this list of activities was something the French and Swiss call parapente. You may have seen this at some resorts, but for the uninitiated it's the opportunity to parachute while wearing skis. For a number of Swiss francs, that amounted to 135 US dollars, I was told to stand on a small slope, relatively near the midpoint of the mountain, with my skis in a modified snow plow position. Fred, the instructor, put me into a harness and strapped himself to my back. A parachute that's attached to Fred was laid out on the hill behind us.

Fred placed his skis on the outside of mine and told me to start skiing. I began to head downhill dragging Fred and his parachute with me. After 20 or 30 our speed caused air to spill into the parachute and voila, we were no longer in contact with terra firma.

Fifty feet, 200 feet, 500 feet off of the ground and the only sensation I had was one of floating. There was no fear and I was enthralled by the view. If I had been younger, I might have said “awesome,” but all I could think of was “this is so cool."

Fred on the on the hand, tried not to show indifference and boredom that must come from doing this four or five times a day. He kept up a running commentary on the wonders of Switzerland and Verbier. He spoke of the joy of seeing the entire town at once and the ability to look into windows of local hotels. He pointed out the location of his house and talks of his joy in having a new baby at home.

Ten minutes into this scheduled half-hour trip, Fred asked if I would like to do some loops. Not knowing any better, I said yes and suddenly we were swinging wildly from side to side. In hindsight, I'm sure we weren't arcing as much as I thought. Have you ever been with a beginning skier on a baby slope when he insists he was moving at tremendous speed --- while you thought he was standing still?

For this trip I was that beginning skier. We stopped the loops, probably at the request of my stomach, and continued to fly over the Alps. We eventually made incredibly smooth landing at the base of the mountain, right beside a gondola station.

Parachuting was on the list of things to be tried. And, while I'm not sure that this absolves me from having to jump out of an airplane at sometime in the future, on this one day, to celebrate my birthday, I got to fly.

Would I do it again -- absolutely. Would I recommend it to my friends--without question. Would I let Fred talk me into those loops again - I'd have to think about that one.