We return to the Engadin each autumn, when the larches burn copper and the air turns glass-clear. It’s a season that rewards those who arrive quietly—WindroseAir into Samedan, then straight into stillness.
Elba feels quietly complete. The rhythm is slow, the air heavy with pine and salt, and the sea never more than a glance away. Days stretch, and time politely disappears.
We return to the Engadin each autumn, when the larches burn copper and the air turns glass-clear. It’s a season that rewards those who arrive quietly—WindroseAir into Samedan, then straight into stillness.
Elba feels quietly complete. The rhythm is slow, the air heavy with pine and salt, and the sea never more than a glance away. Days stretch, and time politely disappears.