
Altitude as luxury. Summer in the Dolomites — lifts between valleys, rifugi lunches, villages that still feel like villages — and winter skiing based from the right village rather than the biggest one. Patagonia's granite for the ambitious. Cool air, long views, serious hotels, and evenings that end by a fire.
“The biggest resort is the best base.”
The biggest resort is the best at being a resort. The right base is the village you'll enjoy at 6 p.m. — where dinner is, how the light falls, whether it still feels like a place when the lifts close.
“A ski trip is about the skiing.”
The skiing is the day's structure. The trip is the village, the lunches, the non-skiers' afternoons, the fire at the end of the day. Trips planned only around vertical feet disappoint everyone who isn't counting them.
“The Alps in summer are the off-season.”
Summer is the other season, not the lesser one: high pastures, rifugio lunches, lakes warm enough to swim in, and the same hotels at a gentler pace. Some of my favorite mountain trips never see snow.
“Altitude is a detail.”
In the Alps it's a factor in the weather. In the Andes it's the itinerary: arrive too high, too fast, and the first days are lost to headaches. Altitude gets planned, like everything else.
Before I name a single hotel, I ask:
The mountain decides the trip. The resort is just where you sleep near it.
Niseko and Hakuba get some of the most reliable powder on earth, and the skiing is only half the reason to go. The other half is what happens after: a soak in an onsen, dinner at a counter, a night in a ryokan where the hospitality is the luxury.
Japan is the ski trip I'd suggest to someone who thinks they don't like ski trips.
In summer, the Dolomites are my favorite walking country in Europe: lifts and well-marked paths between rifugi, each serving lunch as if it were the point — because at 2,000 meters, it is.
The Dolomites suit travelers who want their mountain days active and their evenings civilized.
Switzerland does mountains the way it does trains: precisely, expensively, and beautifully. The Engadin gives you St. Moritz's polish and the valley's light; Zermatt gives you the Matterhorn and a car-free village.
Book ski-season hotels here early. The good rooms in the good villages are a finite resource and everyone knows it.
Lech and St. Anton are the Arlberg's two answers: Lech polished and unhurried, St. Anton for skiers who mean it. Between them, some of the best-managed mountain terrain in Europe, and evenings with more warmth than formality.
Austria is where I send people who loved Switzerland and want the sequel — and people who found Switzerland a touch too polished.
Peru's mountains aren't a ski story. They're about altitude, archaeology and walking country on a scale nothing in Europe matches — the Sacred Valley and the routes to Machu Picchu.
Peru pairs a mountain trip with a culture trip and a food trip, which is why it keeps ending up on lists like this one.
Every itinerary begins with a 20-minute planning call. From there, a $250 planning fee, credited in full toward your booked trip and non-refundable if you don’t book. I brief the property before you arrive — that's what the fee funds.
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