Locarno

Carved by the glacial waters of the Verzasca River, this Ticinese valley unfurls like a secret whispered between granite cliffs. The star attraction is the Ponte dei Salti, a 17th-century double-arched stone bridge that spans water of an impossible, hypnotic emerald hue—so clear you can count the pebbles thirty feet below. It is a landscape that feels less like geography and more like a curated masterpiece: smooth, sun-warmed boulders invite sunbathing, while the river’s siren song lures the brave into its icy embrace. Beyond the bridge, the valley climbs into wild chestnut forests and rustic hamlets like Lavertezzo and Brione, where time appears to have paused in the 16th century. This is Switzerland at its most primal and photogenic, a place where the Alpine drama is accessible without a cable car, rewarding those who linger with a profound sense of isolation and beauty.

The Gotthard Pass is Switzerland’s spinal cord, a sinewy ribbon of history stitching north to south across the Alps. At 2,106 meters, the summit unfolds into a windswept plateau where the Tremola — the legendary cobbled switchback road — descends the southern flank like a stone serpent, its 24 hairpin turns laid by hand in the 1830s. This is engineering as poetry: each granite block set without mortar, draining water through the joints, still bearing the weight of modern traffic. The old hospice at the summit, now a museum, recalls the muleteers and merchants who braved avalanches and bandits before the rail tunnel pierced the mountain’s heart. In summer, cyclists climb the Tremola’s vertiginous grade like pilgrims; in winter, the pass sleeps under meters of snow, closed until the great yellow snowblowers carve a corridor each May.

Where the Alps soften into Mediterranean warmth, Lake Maggiore unfurls its silver ribbon between palm-fringed promenades and vine-clad hills. Locarno, the lake’s Swiss gateway, basks in a microclimate that nurtures camellias, magnolias, and lemon trees—an Italianate riviera transported north of the Alps. The Piazza Grande, a vast arcaded square paved with golden gneiss, hosts the renowned Film Festival each August, but year-round it serves as an open-air salon where locals sip aperitivo beneath frescoed façades. From the lakeside, the Brissago Islands rise like emerald jewels; their botanical gardens shelter 1,700 subtropical species. A vintage paddle steamer stitches the shoreline villages—Ascona’s pastel waterfront, the baroque pilgrimage church of Madonna del Sasso above Orselina, the rugged cliffs of the Verzasca Valley inland. Here, the pace is *dolce far niente*: long lunches of risotto and merlot, sunset swims from stone jetties, and the gentle lap of water against ancient stone walls.

Carved by the crystal-clear Maggia River, the Valle Maggia unfurls from the shores of Lake Maggiore into a wild, green heart of Ticino. Here, time seems to pause in villages like Moghella and Brontallo, where centuries-old stone houses cling to terraced slopes and rustic grotti serve polenta and local Merlot in shadowed cellars. The valley is a sanctuary for nature lovers: emerald swimming holes beckon at the Ponte Brolla gorge, while high alpine trails lead to the Basòdino Glacier. Whether you’re chasing waterfalls in the Foroglio amphitheater or savoring a slow lunch in a riverside grotto, the Maggia Valley delivers an authentic, untamed slice of Italian-speaking Switzerland.

Guarding the strategic Alpine passes of the Gotthard, Lukmanier, and San Bernardino, the Three Castles of Bellinzona rise like a stone sentinel above the Ticino River. Castelgrande, the oldest and most imposing, crowns a rocky promontory with its soaring White Tower (Torre Bianca) and Black Tower (Torre Nera), its walls stitched into the very bedrock. Montebello, perched on a wooded hill to the east, reveals a refined Sforza-era courtyard and a museum of archaeological finds from the region’s prehistoric settlements. Sasso Corbaro, the highest and most isolated, was built in a mere six months in 1478–79 to close a defensive gap; its geometric perfection makes it a textbook of late-medieval military architecture. Together, the trio forms the only surviving example of a medieval fortification system spanning an entire valley floor in the Alps. UNESCO recognised their exceptional integrity in 2000. Today, the ramparts offer sweeping vistas over palm-lined piazzas, chestnut forests, and the vineyards of the Sopraceneri.

Perched on the northern shore of Lake Maggiore, Ascona exudes a relaxed, sun‑kissed elegance that feels more Riviera than Alpine. Its car‑free promenade, lined with plane trees and pastel‑washed facades, curves along the water, leading to the medieval Borgo with its winding alleys, hidden courtyards, and the 16th‑century Church of San Pietro e Paolo. Artists and writers—from Hermann Hesse to Marianne Werefkin—have long been drawn to its luminous light and bohemian spirit; today, galleries and jazz festivals keep that creative pulse alive. Ferries glide to the Brissago Islands’ botanical gardens, while lakeside cafés serve risotto and local Merlot as the sun sets behind the mountains. Ascona is a place to linger, where Swiss precision meets Italian dolce vita.

Two emerald jewels float in the turquoise embrace of Lake Maggiore, their subtropical gardens a botanical miracle nurtured by the lake’s mild microclimate. The Isola Grande, the larger island, unfurls as a living atlas of 1,700 plant species from Mediterranean, Asian, African, and American latitudes — giant eucalyptus, blooming camellias, towering bamboo, and the intoxicating perfume of citrus groves — all arranged in thematic terraces that cascade toward the water’s edge. The smaller Isola Piccola remains a wild sanctuary, its shores a tangle of reeds and water lilies. A neoclassical villa, once the private retreat of a Russian baroness and later a haven for artists like Rainer Maria Rilke, now hosts rotating exhibitions. Peacocks strut the lawns, their cries mingling with the lapping of waves against the stone quay. The view from the island’s belvedere frames the snow-capped Alps rising dramatically behind the palm-fringed shore — a visual paradox that feels like stepping into a dream.

Hovering above Locarno’s palm-fringed promenade, Cardada-Cimetta is the ‘Sun Balcony’ of Ticino—a terrace where Mediterranean light meets alpine grandeur. A two-stage ascent (funicular to Cardada, then chairlift to Cimetta’s 1,672-meter summit) trades lake views for a jaw-dropping 360-degree panorama: the Maggia Delta’s braided ribbons, the sheer walls of the Verzasca Valley, and the snow-dusted peaks of the Gotthard massif. In summer, paragliders launch from the summit meadow, their colorful wings stitching the sky; families follow the ‘Sentiero delle Meraviglie’, a themed nature trail with interactive stations for children. Winter drapes the slopes in silence, opening groomed winter-walking paths and a modest ski area ideal for beginners. The mountain restaurant at Cardada serves polenta and brasato on a sun-drenched terrace that feels more Ligurian than Swiss.

In the wild, roadless Val Bavona, the Foroglio Falls cascade over a sheer limestone cliff, plummeting nearly 100 metres into a frothy amphitheatre of rock and moss. The water fans out like a bridal veil before gathering again in the turquoise pool below, a spectacle that feels both primeval and impossibly graceful. The hamlet of Foroglio clings to the valley floor, its stone houses and rye-straw roofs unchanged for centuries, offering a rare glimpse of an alpine culture that has resisted modernity. A short, level path from the postbus stop leads to the viewing platform, where the roar of the water drowns out all but the wind.

Rising above the Maggia Valley, Monte Tamaro offers a 360° panorama that stretches from the jagged peaks of the Gotthard massif to the shimmering expanse of Lake Maggiore. The modern cable car, designed by Mario Botta, glides silently to the 1,530‑metre summit station, where a slender steel cross marks the peak. Families flock to the Splash & Spa water park at the base, while adventurers tackle the zip‑line, the alpine coaster, or the network of hiking trails that traverse flower‑strewn meadows and rocky ridges. In winter, a natural sled run descends through larch forests, lit by lanterns on weekend evenings.