Swiss bliss: the Grand Hotel Belvedere is back on top

Photographs Benoit Linero

This is my third visit in as many years to the Bernese Oberland, which has the highest peaks in the Bernese Alps, and the novelty hasn’t worn off. I find a kind of clarity here – in the air, the water, the pace – that’s addictive. I’ve come for a total switch-off with my partner and our 10-year-old. For gentle walks, a bit of swimming, but also for the calm, the big skies, a week with a minimal agenda.

In a country that can be so polished, this part of the Alps, not far from Switzerland’s capital, Bern, feels reassuringly normal, low-key, even. Wengen is a car-free village of timber chalets and geraniums, 1,200m above the valley, reached only by the little red cog railway. We buy the Swiss Travel Pass for the week and use it on trains, buses and cable cars. From the station, a driver from our hotel is waiting with an electric buggy; it’s a welcome relief that we won’t be dragging our suitcases through the streets.

The Grand Hotel Belvedere was built in 1912 and was once the height of Belle Époque glamour. Then it closed and sat empty for years, shutters drawn, fading into memory. Its recent resurrection, by French hoteliers Beaumier, has given Wengen back its landmark, but also possibly a new rhythm as its only five-star hotel.

“We didn’t want to rebuild history,” says Lorenz Maurer, the hotel’s general manager. “We wanted to make it live again.” That it does. It’s been sensitively reimagined by the Geneva-based architects Clavien & Associés, and its interiors have been masterminded by Arnaud Christin of Complete Works.

The light, contemporary restoration was dictated by the building’s listed structure, including the retention of its original timber beams and columns. The floors, slightly cracked, were kept. A fresco of Adam and Eve above the fireplace in the foyer was uncovered from beneath a century of paint. The wood (larch and pine, all thermally treated) glows with a natural warmth. “We restored the wood to its 1912 tone,” Maurer says, showing me the hand-painted detailing everywhere. “It had been darkened after it was built. Now it’s back to its true colour.”

The hotel’s two buildings – the Belvedere and the older Waldrand, about 100ft down the hill on the same site – have been connected by a newly landscaped garden. A James Bond-like angular, modern concrete structure houses the new spa. There are pleasing whiffs of Wes Anderson styling in the building’s logical architecture and decoration.

Design-wise, it is a departure from most Alpine hotels. There’s no velvet, no stag heads, no heavy wood carving. Instead, there’s restraint: diffused light, hand-blown glass lamps, a few well-chosen design pieces – Thonet chairs in the restaurants, classic outdoor furniture by Fri Form and UK design brand Pinch has provided the armchairs in the lobby. The bar is grown-up but welcoming.

From the terrace of our family room on the fourth floor of the Waldrand (one of 90 rooms across both buildings), the views are staggering: clouds pooling in the valley, the Jungfrau and Silberhorn glistening above. Bedrooms have pared-back interiors and focus on the cosy and comfortable, with pale pine, handwoven rugs and wool throws.

There’s also a deep quiet that feels deliberate here. In the bathrooms, soft green Andeer granite meets brushed metal. The design is about simplicity – or as Christin puts it, “letting the materials speak”.

The result feels both historical and human, elegant but not self-conscious. When I ask about the lifespan of the enormous bespoke rugs in the main areas when trampled with wet ski boots and muddy walking shoes, Maurer smiles and insists the place is to be used and enjoyed. Carpets can be cleaned.

Over dinner in the Brasserie Belvedere, the atmosphere is refined but relaxed. Children are chatting quietly, couples are lounging still dressed in their hiking gear, and a big family reunion is in full swing. “That’s what we wanted,” Maurer says. “Swiss hospitality has often been about tradition and formality. We wanted warmth and friendliness.”

Rising-star chef Will Gordon, a Londoner who came to Switzerland five years ago, has set the tone for dining. “It’s not every day you get to build a kitchen from scratch,” he says.

Gordon’s menu is a love letter to the Alps, and not just the Swiss ones. “The Alps don’t stop at the border,” he tells me. His dishes move easily between Bern, Bolzano and the French Savoie: classic schnitzel, local caviar, homemade pastas and beef pithivier. “I’m trying to cook food that makes sense here,” he says. “Simple, seasonal, but with precision. It should feel familiar, but lighter.” The familiarity surely being helped by the fact that 80% of his ingredients come from within 100km of the hotel. “It’s not about being worthy,” he says. “It’s about belonging.”

Sonnenbad, the hotel’s second restaurant, serves wood-fired pizza, raclette and fondue, at tables with sunny yellow parasols on the outdoor terrace facing the mountains. In the early evenings, the light turns the peaks pink, and the air smells faintly of wood smoke from the firepits.

Gordon recently started leading foraging walks, taking guests into the forest in search of porcini. “The first time, I was sure we’d come back empty-handed,” he laughs. “But we found about 3kg.” Guests returned with full baskets, then prepared their own fresh pasta for lunch. “It was messy and unplanned,” he says. “But that’s the point – it’s authentic. People remember the connection.”

For my part, I had every intention of joining an early morning outdoor yoga session on the lawn but viewed it from my balcony with a coffee and my book instead. It worked for me. There are mountain-top yoga sessions, too. Guests can take a cable car up to a plateau and roll out their mats as the sun rises. “People want to feel the place, not just see it,” Maurer says.

Wengen itself is changing, too. Once a byword for winter tourism – home to the legendary Lauberhorn downhill, one of the world’s oldest ski races – it now attracts more visitors in summer than in snow season. “The climate is shifting,” Maurer says. “The ski season used to start in November. Now it’s December to March. Soon it will be January.” But rather than mourn the change, he sees an opportunity. “We’re all-year-round here, but summer is probably where the big energy is going,” he says. “The mountains are alive then. You can hike, swim, eat outside.”

My family and I took the cable car from Wengen up to Männlichen and traversed its panorama trail to Kleine Scheidegg for what was one of the best (and still mercifully easy) walks I’ve ever done. Afterwards, I had an exceptional full-body massage in the hotel’s new spa: slow, firm and unhurried, the kind that leaves you hovering somewhere between sleep and sky.

The hotel’s indoor/outdoor pool, across two levels where we swam, seemed to lean towards the Jungfrau. I attempted the cold plunge and lasted a pathetic 30 seconds before retreating to the steam room and sauna. If I’d been there a little longer, I might’ve tried the alkaline deep-cleansing facial with Susanne Kaufmann products, or a reflexology session.

On our last morning, the valley below is filled with cloud. From our balcony we watch it lift slowly, revealing the green treetops. Having breakfast in the brasserie – the fresh bread still warm, coffee steaming – we see the day’s first hikers set off. We consider a quick swim in the village’s beautiful 1930s pool, but our 10-year-old is keen for a little touristy shopping and an ice-cream.

Finally, it’s time to go home, and we’re sad to leave. As the electric buggy carries us towards the station, I turn and look one last time at the hotel’s magnificent façade, the mountain peaks clear in the midday sun. The Bernese air, I think, has a way of staying with you. I’m sure I’ll be back.

For more information, go to beaumier.com