Our Story
Three generations of mountain hospitality, countless memories made
Three generations of mountain hospitality, countless memories made
Look, we're not gonna tell you some fairy tale about how this place magically appeared. Truth is, back in 1967, my grandfather Thomas stumbled upon this patch of land after getting hopelessly lost on a fishing trip.
He was supposed to be heading to Pemberton but ended up here instead - probably read the map upside down knowing him. But when he saw these peaks lit up by the sunset, something just clicked. Called my grandmother from a payphone in the village and said he'd found their spot.
Started as a six-room lodge that winter. Nothing fancy - just honest beds, strong coffee, and Thomas's terrible jokes that somehow guests loved. The hot water didn't always work and the doors creaked like crazy, but people kept coming back.
Yeah, we know - "Pyrest Alquinthorin" isn't exactly rolling off tongues. Here's the real deal: my grandmother Eleanor was obsessed with old English poetry and mountain folklore. She'd spent summers in the Alps as a kid and always talked about these ancient stories.
"Pyrest" came from some old Saxon word she'd found meaning "most pure" - like the air up here. "Alquinthorin" she basically made up, combining bits of words from her favorite poems. Thomas thought it was ridiculous. She won. She usually did.
Thomas and Eleanor open six rooms in what locals called "that crooked building on the ridge." First guest was a ski instructor who paid in firewood and venison. Different times.
Added the west wing with twelve more rooms. Also got our first real complaint - someone from Vancouver said we were "too rustic." Eleanor framed that letter and hung it in the lobby. Still there actually.
Don't usually talk about this much, but a kitchen fire took out half the original building. Guests helped Thomas and my dad rebuild over that summer. Some of those folks still send Christmas cards.
My parents, Robert and Catherine, took over when Thomas retired. Dad wanted to modernize everything immediately. Mom convinced him to keep the character and just fix the plumbing. Smart woman.
Added the spa after Mom spent a winter complaining about sore muscles. Turns out lots of people come down from the slopes feeling the same way. Who knew?
Upgraded from "decent food" to proper fine dining. Hired Chef Marcus who'd worked in Banff and wasn't afraid to tell us our menu needed serious help. He wasn't wrong.
Took over management from Dad when he decided golf was more interesting than spreadsheets. Can't say I blame him. We've grown to 42 rooms now, but still trying to keep that feeling Grandpa Thomas started with - just with better Wi-Fi and hot water that actually works.
We've gotten fancier over the years - can't deny that. Got a spa, proper restaurant, rooms with actual heating controls. But some things stay the same because, well, they should.
Could've sold out years ago. Had plenty of offers from big chains wanting to turn this into something "more profitable." But that's not really the point, is it?
This place exists because my grandfather got lost and my grandmother was stubborn. It's still here because enough people seem to appreciate a mountain hotel that doesn't try too hard to be something it's not.
We're not perfect. The stairs creak, cell service is spotty in some rooms, and yeah, we're kinda hard to find if your GPS acts up. But if you want a place in the mountains that feels real, that's got some stories in the walls - we're here. Same spot Thomas found in 1967.
We've been doing this hospitality thing for a while now. Not saying we're experts, but we've figured out a few things about making people comfortable in the mountains.
Not the kind you fake with some designer's idea of "rustic." This is the real deal, earned over decades.
Three generations taught us that taking care of guests isn't about scripts - it's about actually giving a damn.
Grandpa Thomas might've been lost, but he sure picked one hell of a spot to get lost in.