After a summer along the Italian Riviera – often too crowded, too hot, too hurried for my liking – I find myself longing for a retreat with altitude, silence, and nature in abundance. Somewhere where the air is crisp, the colours just about to change, and where one can hear their own breath again.
Arriving at Berghoferin feels less like checking into a hotel and more like entering a private residence. Philipp, the charming owner, greets me as though I were an old friend and leads me straight to the garden terrace. Under a wide umbrella, I settle into the late summer sun with a chilled glass of regional rosé and a basket of homemade polenta chips. It is that perfect blend of Italian ease and Austro-Savoie art de vivre that makes autumn in South Tyrol so irresistible – harvest grapes on the table, wine in the glass, and air that carries the first hint of the season’s crispness.
Tucked away in Redagno, a tiny hamlet south of Bolzano and framed by the Corno Bianco and Corno Nero peaks, Berghoferin is a fine hideaway at the edge of the Bletterbach gorge. Originally built in the 1960s – and famous then for having one of the region’s very first swimming pools – it has always remained in family hands. Two years ago, it reopened after a meticulous facelift, reinvented as a luxury retreat where tradition, craftsmanship and local culture are not simply preserved, but celebrated.
Inside, the spaces invite lingering. Furnishings from Svenskt Tenn in Stockholm mingle with antiques, alpine cottons, and carefully chosen objects. With only thirteen suites, privacy is effortless. There are corners to claim as your own: a cigar in the smoking room with its playful collection of ashtrays, a quiet read by the fireplace among shelves of books, or a candlelit dinner in one of the many intimate nooks.
The pool house recalls the glamour of the Venetian Lido: striped floats and loungers suggest a Riviera fantasy, but never tip into kitsch. The Lido Corner Bar makes the ideal setting for an afternoon spritz, the kind that lingers into evening without notice.
The essence here is quiet. You hardly encounter another guest; even the sunbeds seem strategically placed to ensure seclusion. Service is discreet yet always present, a perfect balance. Even the Russian banya, a wood-fired sauna overlooking the garden pond, becomes a private ritual – meditative, elemental, deeply calming.
Days slip into a gentle rhythm. A hike along the Tannenweg before breakfast – homemade jams, poached eggs, still-warm bread – followed by hours of reading by the pool or browsing the hotel’s small but well-curated library. A little yoga, a refreshing swim, perhaps a salade niçoise with local trout for lunch. Time softens; afternoons flow into evenings; and before you realise it, aperitivo hour has arrived. Dinner is always worth the wait – seasonal, inventive, and generous.
This is old-school hospitality in the best sense: understated, thoughtful, far from the maximalism of Riviera summers. And yet, there is a kind of maximalism here – in the details, in the care, in the pleasure of discovering objects, textures and stories at every turn.
Berghoferin attracts an artistic crowd, those seeking their own Sommerfrische in the South Tyrolean mountains. The owners and their team balance the needs of loyal regulars with the curiosity of new arrivals, offering both a warm welcome and respectful distance.
A place to breathe deeply, quietly – and to remember that true luxury often whispers.
