Andermatt

That Red or Black moment

First run

Gemstock Cable car

Top of the Gemstock Black run

Rive Ursern through Andermatt

Village main street

Apartment Buildings, Andermatt Swiss Alps

Moguls at middle station

Empty pistes

Looking south to Italy

Matterhorn Gotthard Bahn

Devil's bridge and its upgrade

The first skiing for nine years brought back fond memories and aching quads. We had been invited to join our eldest daughter in a ski apartment in Andermatt. It was a good choice, we were staying in a new purpose built village adjacent to the old ski resort of Andermatt. It is reached by a cog railway that climbs steeply passing through tunnels and steep rock gorges that have protected the isolated location at 1440 metres through the centuries. It was the scene of battles in the Napoleonic wars with Russia and the enclosed mountain retreat now houses the bunkers for the Swiss government in the event of future wars.

As well as the cog railway that connects to Goschenen and from there on to Zurich, Andermatt is on the route of the Matterhorn - Gotthard Mountain Express route that links Zermatt to St Moritz by tunnelling and snaking through the Alps. The railway station is almost as busy as Clapham junction but with reliable, clean and empty seats on the numerous trains and the Alps as a backdrop. The frequency of the trains and the difficulty of road access means that the village is almost car free and this adds to the allure of Andermatt as a destination.

The new village is part of a massive investment by an Egyptian mogul that will provide 500 apartments, 28 chalets and 6 hotels to take advantage of the under used ski facilities as well as the network of cycle paths, walking routes and a new golf course. The scale of development is too much and too intrusive to my mind, but the commune voted for it to proceed in one of their regular plebicites that are the touchstone of local democracy. The partially built complex is already bringing more visitors with the year round facilities and the range of outdoor activities. This is benefitting local businesses and transforming the village from its traditional past. Hopefully the tranquillity of the alps will not be compromised by the scale of these developments but the days of no queues will become but fond memories assuming that the snowfields remain as climate change unhinges civilisation.

The snow had largely disappeared in the village in what has been the poorest ski season for 58 years in the Alps. Nevertheless we bought passes to ski the Gemstock mountain and were surprised at the extensive snowfields that remained above 2000 metres. Even on a Saturday it was largely free of skiers and lift queues were non existent for the the chairlift and tows as well as the cable car that went to the summit at 2955 metres. My hire skis were only 163cm long, I felt cheated having being brought up in an era when sking on less than 200cm was regarded as wimpish. It made little difference, my turns are still too tight on steep runs and I still don't like moguls.

That considered I was persuaded to take a couple of trips to the top station and to ski down the scarily steep black run named after Bernhard Russi, the locally born olympic ski champion in the 1970's. The sharp winds at the summit meant that there was no temptation to linger there. It was a day when the clouds threatened but sun block was needed. I had forgotten my sun block so a red face was the outcome. The black run proved less difficult than the so called Sun Track, a red run that also started from the summit. It was blasted by strong winds and had retained an icy surface to test our edges.

We were down by 3:30pm to enjoy a drink in the village and to plan the next day. Cloud and snow were forecast and so it proved. We walked down to the Devil's bridge in the Schollenen gorge where the Russians had tangled with Napoleon's troops. We returned to the village and then walked 10 kilometres uphill to the village of Realp along snow covered trails that twisted through the new golf course, alongside the crystal clear river and railway as it climbed to the Gotthard pass. The valley was littered with farms and linked by trails that intertwined with the railway and road. Realp was a sleepy sort of village that nevertheless had the staple ingredients of a Swiss village: station, church, clock and hotel. The Shetland pony grazing on hay seemed a little incongruous but so did the pair of llamas and a tour bus queuing for the train through the Gotthard pass.

The following day the sun appeared in a clear blue sky, the winds had stopped but so had the local bus to the cable car and it undermined our enthusiasm. After a long walk we finally ascended to the near perfect pistes that were empty of skiers. The cable car to the summit provides a 1000 metre descent. It proved possible to complete the run three times in the hour. The red run was perfect, the winds and ice had gone and the steep sections were interspersed with long schusses. I was beginning to find my ski legs although the lack of queues meant there was no respite so I returned to the village at 3pm, delighted to have avoided any falls and without any undue aches or pains.

The journey home the next day confirmed that the Swiss really know how to run state railways. All trains were on time, spotlessly clean, and there was a fully integrated timetable. We had three changes on the return to Zurich but all within minutes of each other and there is a simple and consistent ticket price that applies to all trains with connections to every part of the country. No need to book online in advance to get a fair price. Swiss railways had all the things that the privatised UK train operators fail completely to provide or achieve.

We had a couple of hours in Zurich, a clean and well ordered city that lacked the vibrancy of many European cities. The link to the airport is just 12 minutes on the frequent trains and the airport had no queues for check in, security, or boarding. The Swiss Air plane was new, spotless and served a good snack with a small bar of chocolate thrown in. Sadly we had to change at Brussels where we were brought back to the reality of budget airlines with Brussels Air giving a good impersonation of Ryanair.

Edinburgh airport was, as always, disorganised with a bus taking us from the landing stance to the other end of the airport and then the passengers having to walk back to the bus bays after the long march through customs and baggage. It must be a nightmare for older folk. In Switzerland we would have been in the centre of Zurich by the time we had negotiated the airport and walked to the shuttle bus stop strategically located beyond the tram stop to deter visitors from using the ludicrously expensive and painfully slow tram service to the city.