The quintessential Austrian mountain town, never shy, yet never boastful, in a confident, restrained, oh-so-Euro way, Ischgl lets its visitors do the talking.
And we do. Let me tell you about the great skiing, the endless dining options, the locally owned hotels, and the unspoiled landscape that stretches from valley bottom to mountain top, encompassing everything from small-scale farming through to modern ski area.
Time doesn’t stand still here, but has attained an elastic quality that allows one to step from the past to the present and even into what feels like a near future. One which exemplifies well-managed tourism that benefits residents and allows visitors to truly connect with their destination and its people.
Let’s start with the food. Because most ski trips begin and end with food.
There are, it seems, as many stars in the Michelin and Gault Millau universes as there are in the night sky, but here in Ischgl, we’re in a densely packed galaxy. Try the Elizabeth, the Seiblishof, the Jägerhof, the Paznauerstube, the Wiartshaus Silvretta. The list goes on, yet I will not. These places deserve better than to be reduced to a mere list.
Then the hotels. “We were the first”, says Mirjam, casting her gaze over the swimming pool of the five-star Hotel Elizabeth. “My grandfather built the first cable car. Then we bought the land at the bottom of it and built this hotel, putting the pool on the seventh floor.” I like this family, driven by an inherited vision.
Just as the hotel ownership is multi-generational, so are the guests. Grandparents came, then parents, and now their kids bring their kids too. Staff stick around. Erwin, in the ski room, has worked there for 47 years. He now services the skis of the children of the children of the guests who were already regulars when he first took the job.
And the skiing? I’ll allow you the pleasure of discovering it for yourself, but suffice to say that it’s vast. You like off piste in the alpine? They’ve got it. Tree-lined runs for when it’s snowing hard? They have that too.
In fact, with their own enjoyment in mind as much as the tourism dollars, the locals built this ski area using funds collected from among the community. Ischgl may be on the Ikon pass, but no outside ownership is allowed. Imagined by Mirjam’s grandfather, who walked from house to house shaking the cash jar, who swung the shovel that dug the holes for the lift towers. Ischgl is truly community-owned.
Our guide Stefan is a great example of a community stakeholder. Stefan owns three cows and a small hotel. He runs a ski school in the winters, and grazes his animals in the summers. He knows the ski area like his backyard, because it is his backyard.
“It’s early season”, he says as we unload from the modern gondola, “so we will go over there.” He points to where the ground rolls steeply away. It is early season, and I admit some skepticism, but he was right. A western wind bringing a foot of snow means deep accumulations below certain ridges, and soon we’re getting face shots from the skyline down onto the run below. In November. My first run of the season, and it’s face shots at almost 3,000 meters above sea level.
“And now we go over there,” says Stefan, pointing again. “It will be great up top, but for the last few hundred meters, we should be careful because the ground becomes more rocky.” Who knew grazing your cattle in the ski area during the summer months deepens your knowledge of skiing? By the time we stop for a late lunch at the top of the Pardatschgratbahn, I’m hungry. I need not have worried. Our group is eating veal schnitzels, pizza, and a lentil dahl that makes the taste buds sing. I turn my head to the right and look out over endless mountain ridges, fading blue to gray in the almost solstice twilight. The valley side drops away vertiginously to the farms below, and a rather striking thought occurs to me: most everything on our table was produced within my field of vision, possibly even by the people who work in our hotel, or with whom I am now skiing.
But in this first week of the winter season, there’s something else. An annual music event that’s attracted performers including Elton John, Tina Turner, Robbie Williams, Rihanna, and the Killers. This year, it’s Rita Ora who brings her highly stylized show to town – twirling, tweaking, kicking, and twerking in the company of around 4,000 folks aged from no more than three years to well over 80. Looking out from our platform over the masses of twerking grannies, I see gun-packing cops, all boogeying too. Dancing and having a good time aren’t merely encouraged here. It’s the law.
Just three generations ago, among the barns and fields of a small farming village, an imagined future was brought to life by a community which decided to open itself up to the world, and to do so on its own terms. Uncompromising, yet inviting, clear in where the boundaries lie, Ischgl welcomes those travelers who wish to do more than just look – those who want to see, to experience, taste, feel, and truly connect.
