Posted on 10 January 2018

Larry Lemer explores the vast ski resort of Kronplatz, where three cultures collide in a flurry of skiing splendour.

Kronplatz, in the northernmost part of the Dolomite Mountains is perhaps one of the most generic-looking ski resorts you can imagine. It has the picture-postcard conical mountain (albeit topped with a plateau) which supports most of the resort's skiing; and it is connected by a mighty gondola and chairlift system of the neatest and most efficient kind.

As I ascended the mountain in a huge Bondian gondola, the Italian opposite me explained that gondolas actually outnumbered chairlifts at a ratio of 22 to five. For those unusual and unlucky creatures who love skiing but hate heights, these big gondolas represent a far more relaxing way to reach the piste than poky chairlifts.

The landscape around, I noticed, was far more rugged and broken than the perfectly cone-like Kronplatz, making the almost unnatural beauty of this peak even more alluring.

Less than half an hour before I had left the comfortable, informal Hotel Heinz, a relatively affordable three-star with spacious rooms and excellent service. My entire experience in the resort thus far had been imbued with text-book German efficiency.

And yet, this wasn't Germany, but a trilingual part of Italy, where German, Italian and the local language, Ladin - still spoken by around 30,000 people - occupy local signage in dramatically disparate forms.

The Italian opposite me remarked that very few Britons ventured here, perhaps dissuaded by the lack of spoken English. Indeed, the local language landscape is further complicated by the existence of three dialects of Ladin; so perhaps they have little time or need for English.

Even the name, Kronplatz, is very different in Italian: they call it Plan de Corones, or "Place of Crowns". However, so far, the Kronplatz branding has won out.

As I exited the lift, I felt that familiar wave of excitement before sliding out onto the snow. Ahead of me was just a stretch of the resort's 116km of pistes. If this wasn't enough, I could upgrade my ski pass and access no less than 11 other ski areas, covering 1,220km of pistes which fall under the Dolomiti Superski Pass.

I descended the flagship Piste 1, which covers 7km, and drops 1,300 vertical metres. My heart pulsed in my throat at the thrill of the descent, made more glorious by the Dolomites in the distance. I had to take care in one section, however, where numerous skiers had paused to rest - and probably to admire the astonishing view, too.

Returning to the plateau on the superb gondola system, I then opted for the adjacent 10km piste, which descends to Percha railway station. It was a tranquil adventure through trees where I encountered very few other people.

The station was a delight, as was the sleek new train which transports skiers to Alta Pusteria, just 40 minutes away. From Alta Pusteria winter sports lovers can access more than 200km of other pistes. The station, impressively set much lower than the village of Percha, looks brand new - but was in fact built on a line dating back 145 years. This was the place to be and be seen in the days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

The next day I ventured into another blue-and-red zone of Kronplatz, whose pistes spread out like arteries. Returning to the heart of the sector is an enlivening affair - since older chairlifts must be used. Not as comfortable as a gondola, but far more thrilling.

After another 7km descent, I found myself in the picturesque village of San Vigilio, nestled charmingly in a small valley. After a short stomp I arrived at another ski sector, this one of more modest dimensions. It linked San Vigilio to the village of Piculin. But despite its smaller size, this sector packed a serious punch: four gondolas and seven pistes are found here. One of the two black runs here is called the Black 45 - an ominously-named run that I made a bee-line for.

After numerous pleasant blue and red runs, the Black 45 gave me the challenge and the adrenaline shot I needed: an incredibly fast 3km piste dropping 507m to pretty Piculin.

At the bottom, once my heart had returned to its resting state, I made straight for the chairlift - and another thrilling descent.

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