A parent’s most valuable gift might be bridging the past to the future. What if that bridge melts away?
In April of 1983, with my buddy Stan Tener of the Snowmass ski patrol and photographer Del Mulkey, I skied the Haute Route from Chamonix toward Zermatt. For five days, we climbed steep couloirs, traversed high cols, and skinned up and cruised down long, undulating glaciers—60 miles of frozen highway. We did it on “pins.” In those days, this meant three-pin bindings, narrow “norpine” skis and leather telemark boots.
This is the place for you if you like resorts that are scenic, upscale, and infused with history. And you think digging into a three-course lunch isn't a bad way to pass a few hours.
This Swiss shepherds' village turned cosmopolitan mountain resort is home to one of the most recognizable peaks in the Alps: the famed Matterhorn. The towering three-sided spire of jagged rock, crooked at the top like a witch's cap, is such a singular and picturesque peak that all sorts of visitors - skiers and nonskiers, royalty and backpackers, serious alpinists and people who'd rather stock up on souvenirs than break a sweat - come from all corners of the globe to have a look.