Go snow

TIRED and hungry after a month touring Europe, I rolled into Kitzbuhel more than ten years ago looking for refuge from the expense and crush of the continent's cities.

The glitz of this town was missed by the troupe of three 18-year-olds living on a budget of less than £40 a week, sleeping in a tent perched on the edge of a mountain piste, snow free and baking in the summer heat of 1991.

This year's return showed an almost unrecognisable view of one of Europe's most scenic ski resorts.

The railway station we had hauled our rucksacks from as teenagers was still there, though the tracks peeked black through feet of snow.

A golf course we had trekked over was unrecognisable, our campsite, high up the slopes, changed from the sunbathed greenery of mountain vegetation into the frozen whiteness of winter, the spot where we had rested now flattened by thousands of skis.

Down in the valley, the Hotel Schwarzer Adler showed how much my fortunes had changed in 12 years.

The bumpy ground and sloping bed of 1991, squeezed into a tiny tent with two unwashed companions, had been replaced by accommodation so luxurious the private bathroom had its own sauna.

Downstairs, in the huge spa, a whirlpool, steam room and massage offered relief from the aches of a day's skiing, while at the bar we rubbed shoulders with fur coat and diamond-clad Austrians who stank of richness while an Italian piano man with a penchant for Billy Joel sang his favourite tunes, with a very unique twang.

I've stayed in my share of ski resort apartments and hotels. None of them has been like this.

The town itself shows that this is a resort for the skier looking for luxury. The streets are lined with restaurants more exotic than the usual ski destination. Quality Italian food neighbours Greek, Chinese and Austrian.

Prada and Gucci handbags share shop space with ski jackets and boots. The bars are combined with plush cocktail lounges, while the streets are beautiful, amazing snow-covered architecture lit up at night.

This trip's timing could not have been better. Snowfall just before our February arrival had been so heavy Salzburg's tiny airport had been forced to close. Major diversions, including hours spent in airport lounges at Munich and Linz, eventually ended with a late-night touchdown on the icy runway and an arrival in the resort eight hours late.

The inconvenience was more than made up for by the quality of the snow. It caught the buses headlights as we drove through the night to the resort, weighing down tree branches with huge wedges, tyre marks cutting a foot down to the road's surface.

The Austrian piste bashers don't seem to go into action until after a huge snow fall, and the first day of skiing was a joy. Sunshine reflected off huge drifts, soft moguls and bumpy pistes. Balance was virtually impossible, but falling was soft.

The slopes of Kitzbuhel in the middle of February seem quieter than other big European resorts, the mountainside restaurants not as chaotic as those of Italy, or as expensive as France, and serving up decent versions of Austrian specialities including Wienner Schnitzel, goulash and sausage.

The pistes are mainly graded blue and red, not too great for beginners but with some testing runs for the more skilled, including the world famous Hahnenkamm downhill slope.

Experience is needed for snowboarding because of the many narrow runs with death-defying drops and long, momentum-sapping flat sections.

But, though not as great as the huge resorts of France's Three Valleys or the Milky Way in Italy, the variety of Kitzbuhel is good and easily enough to entertain for a week's holiday.

From the town, fast gondolas take skiers up both sides of the valley to the Horn or the Hahnenkamm. A maze of quality runs links lifts at the mountain top, the only fault being the lack of decent slopes heading back down into the town. The Hahnenkamm is linked to Kitzbuhel by two runs, both reds. One is incredibly scenic, incredibly narrow and, at times, incredibly flat. The other is steeper and, because of its lack of afternoon sun, icier.

Fantastic routes do go down other sides of the mountain though, with their ends linked to free bus connections heading back to the lifts, hotels or bars.

The finest, in my opinion, is also the quietest, due largely to the death leap of a plummeting black that needs to be negotiated before you reach the start of it.

But, after the fear subsides, route 21 offers a narrow, testing and hugely varied run leading from the very top of the mountain, gliding through summit-top vistas, densely-forested tracks and steep drops to fast, gradual slopes.

Most attractive, as you spend 40 minutes skiing virtually alone - a welcome rarity in the Alps - are the small wooden homes you pass, skiing right past their front doors and smelling the woodsmoke pouring from their chimneys, passing the cattle stabled beside them.

The run ends in a timber built, typically Tyrolean village packed with restaurants and cafes, slow paced and unpacked due to the lack of any lifts. Fast buses whisk you the ten minutes to the nearest gondola, or the 20 minutes back to Kitzbuhel's comforts.

Fact file:

Adam Nichols travelled with Panorama Holidays, which can be contacted on 0870 2415026, or at www.panoramaholidays.co.uk

He flew from Gatwick airport, and travelled from York to London with GNER.

Updated: 08:53 Saturday, September 06, 2003