Tag: ski lift

Family & Friends, Travel Adventures July 30, 2026

Switzerland Day 16: Touching the Sky at Mont Fort

Today was all about going up.

Our destination was Mont Fort, one of the highest lift-accessible viewpoints in Switzerland, sitting at 3,330 meters (10,925 feet) above sea level. Getting there was an adventure in itself, requiring three different ski lifts.

We started in Siviez (1,730 m) on a classic four-person chairlift to Tortin (2,050 m). From there, we boarded a large gondola—big enough not only for passengers but also strollers, dogs, and mountain bikes—which carried us to Col des Gentianes (2,950 m). The final leg was a smaller gondola climbing to the summit of Mont Fort.

Of the three lifts, the old-fashioned chairlift was my favorite. Being out in the open, you could feel the cool alpine air, hear the rushing streams below, listen to cowbells echoing across the valley, and even catch conversations from hikers passing underneath. It was the longest ride and gave us plenty of time to soak it all in.

At one point we floated over a pasture full of cows, where two enormous bulls were locked in a battle while one particularly unlucky cow did her best to stay well out of the way. Nature’s version of reality television.

Cows with bells battle

One thing Switzerland does exceptionally well is efficiency. We bought our lift tickets once at the base, then simply scanned them at automated turnstiles before each lift. Every transfer was seamless.

Riding in the larger of the two Gondolas

Before boarding the final gondola, Lidia, #1BigSister, and I stopped to collect our zipline equipment. #1BigBrother and #1LittleSister were too young to participate, and Amir graciously volunteered to stay with them while the three of us tackled what had become the biggest adventure of the trip.

The Mont 4 Zipline claims several world records depending on how they’re measured, but what makes it unique is that it begins at one of the highest starting elevations of any zipline in the world. Watching people launch from the gondola below was intimidating enough that I briefly considered backing out. But I knew this was probably my one and only opportunity to do something like this, and I would regret letting fear win.

Before our scheduled launch, Amir wisely insisted we make time for the observation deck at the summit.

I’m so glad he did.

From the top, you can see the Matterhorn, Mont Blanc, the Grand Combin, and countless other Alpine peaks stretching in every direction. It is one of those places where photos simply cannot capture the scale.

The summit itself feels almost extraterrestrial.

The closest comparison I can make is that it felt like walking on the moon. There is almost no vegetation. Just rock, ice, glaciers, and patches of snow. Every now and then a lone butterfly would flutter by, leaving me wondering how on earth it had made its way to nearly 11,000 feet.

Adding to the surreal experience was the full-service (fairly fancy) restaurant perched near the summit. People casually enjoyed fondue, white wine, and long conversations while surrounded by a landscape that looked more like another planet than Earth. I couldn’t help wondering how they managed to get all the supplies up there. Gondola? Helicopter? Either way, it was impressive.

Then it was time.

Lidia went first.

#1BigSister followed.

I was last.

I had planned to capture all three launches using my Meta glasses. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hear the recording chime over the wind. Instead of starting new videos, I accidentally stopped previous recordings and completely missed their launches.

Thankfully, by the time it was my turn, I had finally figured it out and managed to record my own ride.

The initial drop off the tower is over almost instantly before gravity takes over. Within seconds you’re flying at speeds approaching 60 mph (100 km/h). I quickly understood why they recommend long pants and a jacket. Even on a warm day, the wind at that speed is surprisingly cold.

They also provide goggles if you don’t have sunglasses because opening your eyes at those speeds isn’t easy. And if you make the mistake of opening your mouth, your cheeks inflate like a squirrel storing acorns for winter.

On previous adventures—whether ziplining at Camp Seafarer or paragliding in Costa Rica—I had been brave enough to strike the dramatic “starfish” pose with my arms spread wide.

Not today.

Today I held onto those straps for dear life.

The arrival was wonderfully anticlimactic. The braking system automatically slows you before you reach the landing platform, making for a smooth, gentle finish.

What surprised me most was how peaceful it was.

From below, it looks terrifying.

From the line itself, it feels surprisingly serene.

I’m incredibly glad I took the leap.

Afterward, the rest of the family rode the gondolas down to meet us. Our plan had been to celebrate with burgers at the restaurant beside the zipline station, but it happened to be closed. So we descended one gondola ride to Tortin, where we found a wonderful Italian restaurant serving pizza, lasagna, soup, sandwiches, beer, cider, and wine. Pizza is always a safe bet with our crew, and the attached playground made it an even bigger success.

One thing we’ve noticed throughout Switzerland is that restaurants frequently include playgrounds, trampolines, or inflatable bounce houses. Families are clearly expected to linger.

At the same time, we’ve also noticed a cultural difference compared with Spain and Italy. In Spain and Italy, when one of our kids accidentally bumped into someone, it almost always led to smiles, funny faces, or affectionate interactions. Here in Switzerland, we’ve had several encounters where adults—particularly older adults—seemed noticeably less tolerant of even minor accidental bumps, including one on today’s gondola ride. It’s certainly not everyone, but it has been a noticeable contrast. Thankfully, the incredible playgrounds have more than made up for it from the kids’ perspective.

The drive back to our chalet was every bit as spectacular as the journey up.

Amir asked me to film a time-lapse as we descended the endless switchbacks. The winding mountain roads reminded both of us of driving through Crete several years ago. Amir has handled every mile of driving on this trip, and today he admitted these were the most challenging mountain roads he has ever driven. Coming from him, that got my attention. If he posts the finished time-lapse, I’ll come back and add it here because it’s worth seeing.

After our enormous Italian lunch, none of us were especially hungry for dinner. We simply picked at leftover cheese, sausage, bread, yogurt, and whatever else remained in the refrigerator at the chalet.

Tomorrow we leave the mountains behind.

We’ll pack up and begin making our way toward Zurich for the flight home, with one final stop planned at a Swiss chocolate factory along the way.

Before this trip, I assumed that after more than two weeks away I’d be counting the hours until we got home. We usually travel for only ten to twelve days, and this has been our longest family vacation ever.

Surprisingly, I don’t feel ready for it to end.

I think I easily have another few days of adventure left in me.

But tonight the plan is simple: one last soak in the hot tub, finish the laundry, pack the suitcases, and get a good night’s sleep before one final Swiss adventure awaits.

~Steph

Family & Friends, Food & Drink, Travel Adventures July 28, 2026

Day 14: Alarm Fatigue, Ski Lifts and Evolène

As an emergency physician, I’ve probably developed a little too much alarm fatigue. So when the fire alarm started blaring through the chalet at 6:30 a.m., my first thought wasn’t, We should evacuate. It was, Is this thing actually real?

Fortunately, it wasn’t.

Unfortunately, we were all awake.

Since sleep was off the table, I grabbed my camera and stepped onto the balcony. The early morning light over the valley was spectacular, and the Matterhorn was putting on a show. If you’re going to get jolted awake by a false alarm, this is about the best view you could ask for.

We walked up to Thyon Resort and found the ski lift called Trabanta which took us to the top of Thyon 2000. The kids were surprisingly brave on the ski lift. For the two youngest, it was their very first time ever getting on—and more importantly, getting off—a chairlift. They handled it far better than I ever did.

I couldn’t help but think about my own two legendary ski lift failures.

The first happened when I was three years old. I don’t remember which ski resort we were at, but I was skiing with my parents. I’d just climbed onto the lift when, apparently, I sat on a patch of ice. As the chair pulled away, my tiny three-year-old body slid right underneath the safety bar.

By nothing short of a miracle, one foot caught on the bottom of the chair, catching my boot strap, leaving me dangling upside down instead of plummeting to the ground below.

My mom later told me there was a retaining wall approaching that I was moments away from colliding with while everyone below frantically tried to get the lift operator’s attention. Somehow the lift was stopped in time, and—if family lore serves me correctly—my dad was able to reach down and haul me back into the chair.

Not exactly the confidence-building ski experience most toddlers have.

#1BibSister and I rode together, which turned out to be the perfect pairing. We were equally excited to finally see real Swiss cows up close—the kind with enormous bells hanging around their necks that we’d been hearing long before we ever spotted them. We also share a mutual appreciation for a well-timed selfie, so we managed to capture a few favorites while floating high above the valley.

As we approached the unloading area, however, we noticed the lift had stopped a few chairs ahead of us.

Turns out Amir and #1BigBrother couldn’t get their safety bar to lift, so the operator had to come help them before they could get off. #1LittleSister and Lidia disembarked without incident, and #1BigSister and I stepped off just fine.

So technically…the Louka family ski lift mishap count still belongs entirely to me.

Scooter “bikes” you can rent and ride down

At the top of the mountain, we took a short—but surprisingly steep—trail down to a little mountainside restaurant that looked like something out of a postcard. There were horse stables nearby, a trampoline, a bounce house, a giant bull statue, and panoramic views in every direction.

I ordered the cheese polenta, which was rich, creamy, and absolutely worth the hike.

After brunch, we continued our descent, stopping to finally meet the famous Swiss cows we’d admired from above. Their oversized bells echoed through the valley long before we reached them. Some had impressive curved horns, all were enormous, and surprisingly few seemed interested in staying behind fences. They were calm, friendly, and completely unfazed by a family of American tourists taking far too many pictures.

By this point, everyone was feeling the miles. Several of us had also come to the shared realization that Crocs are wonderful vacation shoes…right up until you decide to hike down a Swiss mountain.

As we reached the bottom near the chairlift, another childhood memory came rushing back—my second ski lift disaster.

Ironically, it had also happened in Switzerland.

I was about eight years old, traveling with my parents, my sister Kristin, and our family friends, the Wrights. It was my very first trip outside the United States. We had come to Switzerland for spring break to ski, and I remember thinking it was the greatest adventure imaginable.

One day, my parents went ahead while Kristin and I lined up for a T-bar lift—the kind that pulls skiers uphill while they remain on the snow. The bar tucks behind you, with one person on each side. In theory, it’s simple.

In reality, it requires both riders to be roughly the same height.

At eight years old and with my teenage sister beside me, we were…not.

Looking back, the contraption resembled equal parts ski equipment and an oversized IUD.

We didn’t make it very far before our balance gave out. As soon as we let go, the T-bar snapped back toward the cable at full speed and smacked me squarely in the back of the head.

Instantly there was blood everywhere.

Let me tell you—bright red blood against fresh white snow is a visual that sticks with you.

Meanwhile, my parents were already well up the mountain, completely oblivious to what had happened.

A kind stranger took off my skis, carried me like a toddler, and skied me all the way down to a small medical clinic. Remember, this was long before cell phones. Kristin and I had no identification, no money, and no way to contact anyone.

As luck would have it, the physician working in that tiny Swiss clinic was an American—from Pensacola, Florida, where we had once lived. We had never met him before, but after hearing our story he simply said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll send your parents the bill.”

Two weeks after we got home to Virginia, the invoice arrived.

Total amount due: $40.

My dad happily paid it.

Kristin and I somehow found our own way back to the ski lodge, only to discover our parents and the Wrights sitting comfortably by the fire with their boots off, completely unaware that we’d made an unscheduled stop at Swiss urgent care. Looking back as an adult, I’m fairly confident they had enjoyed a drink or two while waiting.

Thankfully, everything turned out just fine.

Back at the chalet, I attempted an afternoon nap, but sleep wasn’t happening. Instead, #1LittleSister convinced me to join her in the hot tub.

I tried explaining that a hot tub is not a swimming pool—it’s more of a sitting pool.

She respectfully disagreed.

Within minutes she was splashing with Olympic-level enthusiasm while I abandoned any hope of relaxation and simply accepted that parenting, much like ski lifts, rarely goes exactly according to plan.

For dinner, we piled back into the car and made the 30-minute drive down the mountain to the charming village of Evolène, a postcard-perfect Swiss town nestled along the river. Dark wooden chalets lined the streets, each balcony overflowing with colorful flower boxes, while restaurants buzzed with the unmistakable energy of people lingering over good food and good conversation.

We wandered into the first restaurant we came across, Restaurant Au Mazot Chez Raymonde, which, as luck would have it, also happened to be the highest-rated on Google.

Stepping inside felt like stepping back in time.

The restaurant is more than 350 years old, complete with its two original stone fireplaces that still anchor the dining room today. The atmosphere was everything you’d hope for in an old Swiss mountain inn: cozy, bustling, a little noisy, delightfully unhurried, with the warmth of the fireplaces filling the room and the unmistakable aroma of melting raclette drifting through the air.

The woman tending the open hearth had worked there her entire life and was dressed in traditional Swiss clothing. Looking around at the centuries-old photographs and drawings hanging on the walls, it was remarkable to see that the women working there today are still wearing essentially the same attire as those who came generations before them.

Every meal at our table was excellent, but by this point the early 6:30 a.m. fire alarm, the mountain hike, and the fresh alpine air had finally caught up with all of us. We were ready to head back to the chalet, crawl into bed, and recharge for another adventure.