The lake keeps the hours.
Nine suites · one jetty · no wake before the mist lifts
A lakeside villa hotel · glass & pale wood · est. 1904
Jetty water 19° · rowboats out
46°58′ N · 8°58′ E
Nine suites · one jetty · no wake before the mist lifts
We removed the clocks in 1972. Breakfast ends when the mist does, and dinner starts when the water goes still.
Coffee arrives at the jetty bench without being asked. The lake is glass; nobody speaks above the birds.
Off the jetty's end, twelve strokes to the pontoon. Lunch waits under the plane trees, unhurried.
One lamp per table on the terrace. The lake turns to ink and the wine list turns local.
The lake holds a second villa, upside down. Guests report it is even quieter.
Glass to the floor, bed facing the water. The mist does the curtains' job until nine.
From 420 / nightPale wood, deep tubs, plane-tree shade. The quiet choice for long stays and slow books.
From 360 / nightThe 1904 original, rebuilt in glass and larch. Water under the floor; you will hear it all night, then miss it forever.
From 640 / night
The kitchen garden grows against the south wall; the char comes up from the cold middle of the lake. Twenty covers on the terrace, one sitting, and the kind of local wine that never travels well because it never has to.