Secret ski resorts

Skiing holidays have a problem. They’ve lost their sense of adventure. Yes, the first flurries of winter which arrived recently provoke excitement, and the lure of the mountains is still strong. What’s lacking, however, is the sense of discovery, anticipation, and of reaching dizzying new heights.

This is no surprise, for the Alps have been entertaining winter tourists since 1864 when a group of Englishmen visited St Moritz ‘out of season’ as a bet. In its infancy, skiing was the preserve of the aristocracy, who holidayed only in the most chic resorts — the likes of Courchevel, Cortina and St Moritz — perilously hurling themselves down the mountains wearing plus-fours.

More recently, tour operators have gone to enormous lengths to broaden the sport’s appeal and entice those who prefer flopping on sun loungers to frolicking in the cold. And it worked: by the 1960s a quarter of a million Brits were skiing every winter and purpose-built resorts were springing up everywhere. Over time, these expanded and connected up to other resorts, creating mega-ski areas spanning vast valleys.

Here your every whim is catered for, every turn signposted and every movement recorded; great, if you live in a cave for the rest of the year. But I don’t, and I’ve had it with expansive, highfalutin resorts where you pay €30 for a burger yet are treated like muck. A few years ago, I discovered a Swiss secret. A hallowed place with powder on its doorstep, where some of the world’s best freeride skiers hang out harmoniously alongside the locals. This is Grimentz, a stone’s throw from Verbier, yet worlds away from the champagne-quaffing toffs. The only sounds in its narrow alleyways are the mooing of cows (cloistered for the winter in the village) and the odd clunk of ski boots.