Schuss into summer

After landing in Santiago on a grey August day, I boarded a shuttle van that carried me up into the Andes, past muddy vineyards and abandoned shanty cafes. At home in Canada, friends would be lazing on cottage docks, fishing and suntanning.

But here, condors soared against a powder-blue sky and cold winds lashed growing drifts. Soon, I'd be pulling on Gore-Tex and snapping into downhill skis. As a Canadian, all too familiar with interminable winters, I momentarily found myself wondering what on earth I was doing – courting bone-chilling weather – in the middle of our fleeting summer?

An enormous St. Bernard greeted me outside Ski Portillo's landmark yellow hotel, tucked in the highest Andes, near Chile's border with Argentina. Inside, the wood-panelled lobby was crowded. With bookings at the all-inclusive resort running for one week, 450 goggle-tanned guests were departing as another 450 arrived. Still, check-in went quickly, and soon I was dragging my bags into a small elevator alongside a young man in shorts and T-shirt, dripping with sweat. His legs looked like two oil barrels.

"I ate von cookie too many dis afternoon," he said, sounding eerily like the Terminator. "Now I must do 45 minutes of zee lunges." Only later did I learn it was Matthais Mayer – Austrian gold medalist in downhill at Sochi – who was staying down the hallway from me.

Every summer, elite ski racers are drawn to Portillo, site of the only world championship ever hosted in the Southern Hemisphere, and upon whose slopes the 200-kilometres-an-hour barrier was first broken. The Austrian men had already begun their summer training.

Shortly, the Canadian men and American women would arrive. I dropped my bags in a room overlooking an enormous outdoor swimming pool and two hot tubs. Beyond lay a cobalt-blue lake – Laguna del Inca – nestled between soaring black peaks. The room itself was small, comfortable, and smartly decorated. Notably, there was no television.

I was already beginning to sense Portillo would be different from anything I'd experienced before.

At the turn of the century, following the emergence of peace between Chile and Argentina, a railway was carved through the Andes, connecting Santiago with Mendoza. And at the very summit, near Uspallata Pass, the Chilean Government began construction of a grand hotel. War put the brakes on construction, and it was not until 1949 that Portillo was finally inaugurated.

But the hotel struggled, and in 1961, it was put up for auction, among the first Chilean government businesses to be privatized. Two Americans – Dick Aldrich and Bob Purcell, who had long travelled and worked in Latin America – put in the only bid.

"I guess that is where I came in," explains Henry Purcell, the slight 80-year-old current owner of Portillo who has invited me to join him at his table, situated near the entrance to the Old World dining room, where waiters in red-and-white jackets serve wine and four-course meals. For more than five decades, Purcell has occupied this table, greeting old friends and new guests alike.

"I didn't know Uncle Bob well, but he offered me a job managing his new property at Portillo." Purcell was just 26 at the time, a graduate of Cornell's School of Hotel Administration. He had never skied a day in his life. He had never been to South America. And he didn't speak a word of Spanish. Yet Purcell said yes immediately. And he's never left.

"When we took over the hotel, it was a wreck. There were shepherds living right here in the dining room," Purcell motions. "Along with their sheep." The upgrades that Purcell began that summer held a philosophy that still endures today and defines Portillo: comfort and style without grandiosity or pretension.

"We purposely choose to leave televisions out of the guest rooms," Purcell explains. "Because we don't want our guests to disappear at night. We want them to gather, to socialize and play games, sit at the bar, listen to the band, or read beside the fireplace."

There is also a clear respect for the landscape here. It's hard to imagine a hotel painted Crayola yellow and blue blending into glaciated mountains, but in this realm of perpetual sun and sky, they do. The handful of dormitories and chalets surrounding the grand hotel are hidden from view by dips and ridges.

"Of course we could build hundreds of new condos. Or another hotel," Purcell says slowly. "I get offers every year. We could also market to day-users and bring in tour buses to increase usage. But that is not what Portillo is about."

One day slowly blends into the next. I rise with the sun, eat a breakfast of fruit and eggs and then step out the front door and into my skis. On near-empty runs, I ski. And ski. And ski. Until my legs can take no more. With 14 lifts, 35 runs, 1235 acres of terrain and just 450 guests, there is never a lineup.

Portillo's ski school – where every posting receives 100 applications – is legendary, enjoying its pick of the world's best instructors. As a solid intermediate (who has never taken a lesson in my life), I enroll in morning classes, and quickly see my skills and confidence skyrocket.

The terrain is varied, with everything from easy green groomers to narrow technical gullies accessed by knee-shaking traverses. Plenty of powder remains on the shady south-facing slopes. (Yes, shade and south are an oxymoron to Canadians.) By afternoon, the northerly slopes are a delight of soft spring corn. Off-piste opportunities are limitless for those willing to hike.

Almost as exciting as the skiing are the five "Va et Vient" lifts, which provide access to the most severe slopes. Designed specifically for Portillo by Jean Pomagalski, these lifts employ steel cables to drag five skiers uphill at a time – all standing astride with a "poma" disk between their legs. Travelling at a dizzying rate, we bounce like water skiers up the steep terrain. Upon dismounting, great bowls of snow open below our ski tips.

When the skiing ends, there remains much to do. Portillo features a modern weight room, full-sized gymnasium, climbing wall, games room, and library. Ski instructors lead stretching and yoga classes. There is a quaint cinema, and every night, a different band plays in a small, packed bar. Later still, the disco opens.

During the 1970s, Fidel Castro visited Portillo. After a tour of the grounds, the Cuban dictator paused for lunch in the dining room, where he forgot his pistol on the chair. When the mistake was discovered by a young bus boy, Juan Beiza, he raced out the front door of the hotel, waving the gun overhead, hoping to catch the departing motorcade of blue Fiats. Castro's security, hanging from car doors and brandishing Kalashnikovs, came within a hair of shooting the poor boy.

Beiza remains at Portillo today, now the maître d'hôtel. The short, serious man met me at the entrance to the dining room (still featuring the same leather panelling as in Castro's day) and led me to the table where I would sit all week; served four meals a day, including breakfast, hot lunch, afternoon tea and a fashionably late dinner. Beiza has worked at Portillo for 47 years. In North America, where young transient workers drift from hill to hill, such longevity and loyalty would be unthinkable. Here, it is common.

Jaime, the bartender, has been slinging pisco sours since 1967. Bianca, the head of laundry, has been at Portillo 40 years. Raphael, the head chef, started here as a dish boy 38 years ago. And in the boot room, Enrique – whose miraculous memory allows him to retrieve the boots and shoes of every single guest, week after week, without tag or ticket – has been at the job for 36 years.

But it was Heidi who stole my heart. I first met the ageless Swiss ski instructor at her nightly post-ski yoga class. The next morning, I watched her rip down the resort's steepest bump run …while playing an accordion and wearing a skull-and-crossbones balaclava. Heidi first came to Portillo in 1968 ("I was just five years old then," she insists with a wink). She has returned every summer since, often making the long journey from her St. Moritz home by ocean liner and train.

So, if Portillo is not about crass development and a fast buck, as Purcell claims, what is the resort about?

To begin: people. It is a relentlessly social place, mildly reminiscent of a vintage house party. After a few days, you recognize almost everyone sharing the week with you, nodding while passing in hallways, enjoying coffee together on one of many sofas that cram the living room.

South Americans harbour a deep respect for youth, and in Portillo, packs of children run feral through the hallways. Almost every great skier, racer, photographer and filmmaker has passed through these halls – from Jean-Claude Killy and Nancy Greene to Warren Miller, Lindsey Vonn and the late Shane McConkey – and it is not uncommon to see such celebrities lounging in the pool or dining alongside other guests. But they are never the main attraction.

This is because Portillo's true popularity hinges on skiing. The terrain is magnificent. The snow is always good, and often great. The access is unlimited.

With a 60-per-cent repeat-visitor rate and near-constant full occupancy, Purcell and his team are doing something right. For the North American skier jaded by expensive and pretentious "villages" – where skiing has become a sideshow to much larger games of real estate development, shopping and glitter – this quaint, hidden resort stands as a nostalgic reminder what skiing once was. And still can be.

If you go

Portillo Ski Resort lies in the Chilean Andes, a two-hour drive from the Santiago International Airport. Peak season runs from mid-June through early October. Prices range between $3,500 to $7,000 (U.S.) for a week-long package. "Mini-week" packages run Saturday to Wednesday (four nights) or Wednesday to Saturday (three nights) and range between $1,500 and $4,000 (U.S.). For more information and bookings, visit skiportillo.com

Getting to Portillo is easier than you may think. Air Canada offers daily direct overnight flights between Toronto and Santiago, meaning you will be skiing the afternoon of arrival.

Once in Chile, simple add-on experiences, including cat-skiing and Santiago city tours on bike, can be found at Upscapetravel.com.