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“Yes,” stammered the old man in startled confirmation, “this is Küblis.” He had good reason to sound surprised. Taking his dog for a quiet evening walk, he could be forgiven for not expecting to meet two strangers emerging from the night-time gloom and having to ask which car park they had just skied into.

An hour and a half earlier, Marcus and I were sipping coffee at the summit of Davos’s Parsenn mountain. The fast setting sun cast increasingly lengthy shadows over the surrounding peaks, it’s tepid glow able to do little to fend off the winter chill. “It’s late,” urged the manager of the now deserted restaurant as he ushered us towards the door. No doubt he had our best interests at heart as he motioned us towards the downward-bound funicular. But we harboured grander ideas. We were heading down the classic 13 kilometre “Derby” run to Küblis, the furthest of the traditional villages reached by these long, celebrated ski routes.

The Derby valley was already totally enveloped in late afternoon shade by the time we zipped up our jackets and snapped on our skis. Neither of us said as much but we both knew we had to push on quickly. We schussed joyously down the steep plunges of the three undulating hollows which enliven the top of the mountain. We continued more sedately through open country of varying steepness to the crossover point where routes branch off to different villages in the Prättigau valley.

By now the light was fading rapidly and we had to ski right up to direction signs to ensure we maintained the right path. This area of the Parsenn is not cluttered by cable cars or refreshment stops and the sound of gliding skis is all that normally disturbs the calm. Because these routes are so long, they seldom get crowded. On a good day, it’s possible to enjoy miles of piste in glorious privacy. At this time of the evening, more sensible skiers had long since left us the mountain to ourselves. When we stopped to check our way, the silence was absolute.

We pushed on through tranquil meadows and dense pine forest, steep terraces and the occasional traverse. Under normal circumstances a stop at the historic Schwendi restaurant would have been obligatory. But we knew we were short of time and couldn’t afford the luxury.

Our progress was slowing markedly as finding the route became increasingly difficult. We now had to stop at virtually every orange pole marking the way and try to locate the next one through the gloom. We soon gave up trying to follow the marker poles altogether.

It was an hour since we left the restaurant and we had skied around 10km. Gliding along a narrow path, we could hear the sound of a running stream far below us. We sensed we had to cross it but how could we get down there? Our route was now shrouded in pitch darkness. The feeble glimmer of the early evening stars was our only guide. On the other side of the valley we could see a small settlement. We hoped this wasn’t Küblis as there didn’t seem to be any way to reach it.

We also hoped we weren’t skiing close to any steep drop-offs, although total exhilaration overcame any safety concerns our precarious circumstances should have caused. Amazingly, neither of us fell. Just as well since any skis or poles lost would probably have been lost forever.

We skied on and finally saw another faint glow of lights far off in the valley. Küblis? We hoped so. Like circling planes not yet given clearance to land we followed the track as it continued to curve around the mountain with still no obvious route down. Fortunately the gradient was now moderate and we needed only occasional turns to maintain a comfortable speed. Even so, occasional ruts and sharp turns tested our reactions and feel for the terrain.

We had long since left the recommended route. We slide-slipped down a steepish bank and crossed a deserted road. The sound of the stream became louder. We stomped our way rather ungainly through some bushes. Finally, after an hour and a half, we crossed a bridge and here we were in a Küblis car park.

To say that we had set off too late in the afternoon doesn’t do justice to our miscalculation. But the Parsenn is no ordinary mountain. And the Derby is no ordinary ski run. Skiers checking their watches at the top of a piste generally want to calculate how fast they can travel. Those heading down the Derby need to know if supper will be cold by the time they reach their destination.

It doesn’t always take so long to reach Küblis. The Parsenn Derby, the world’s longest downhill, has been raced every year over much the same course since 1924. Winning times have come down from the 20 minutes of the inaugural winner to around 10 minutes today. 15-20 minutes is considered a good time. This is no Hahnenkamm but with 300 to 400 competitors, it doesn’t lack its share of thrills and spills.

Andreas Gredig, whose family has owned Davos’s Flüela Hotel for several generations, raced the Derby in his youth. He still chuckles as he recalls the carnage of past downhills, exacerbated in early years by racing on unprepared pistes. One particular race which took place in poor weather had to be abandoned altogether when organisers realised not many racers were arriving at the finish, instead crashing, getting scattered around the mountain or missing turns and ending up in wrong villages.

Although the run down to Küblis is the classic Derby course, there are many alternatives, including various routes to the sleepy villages of Saas, Serneus and Klosters. In subsequent visits to Davos, the run down to Klosters has become my favourite. Partly because it provides the easiest return to the top of the mountain via the Gotschnagrat cable car. Partly because of the excellent Schwendi restaurant which nestles in a lonely clearing guarding the start of the forest track. Partly because if there is a more picturesque ski run anywhere in the Alps, I’d like to see it.

In normal conditions, none of the Derby descents would even register in a comparison of the most challenging ski runs in Davos, let alone Switzerland or the Alps. But that’s irrelevant and misses the point altogether. Henry Hoek expressed it perfectly in his 1933 book eulogising the skiing on the Parsenn: “Blessed are the bad ski runners! For theirs is the landscape. Blessed are the duffers! For they may take it easy.”

I know exactly what Hoek meant. From the 2,844 metre summit of the Parsenn, it’s easily possible to reach Klosters in 20 minutes. But that requires blasting through the forest, barely noticing the isolated clusters of wooden chalets and deserted outbuildings used for summer grazing. There would be no time to pause to absorb the tranquillity of the mountain or smell the invigorating fresh pine, or devour the intoxicating views of the wooded valley that decades have done little to alter.

Much of the Davos ski area resembles any top Alpine resort, albeit with uncharacteristically long runs and an excess of antiquated T-bar lifts. However, once you turn down the Derby valley, you enter a unique winter playground. Here is the antithesis of the purpose-built ski resort. Traditional agriculture co-exists happily with modern tourism. Around 100 families still farm in the Davos valley. Many of these farmers are also involved in the winter sports industry and it’s not unknown for ski instructors to invite their classes back to their farmhouses for lunch.

To descend these vast and pristine Derby trails is more like ski touring than downhill skiing, evocative of pioneering days when adventurers toiled uphill on skins before gliding down silently through untracked snowfields. In this area of the Parsenn, it’s easy to find a quiet spot, away from other skiers and any trappings of a modern ski resort, and imagine that you too are blazing a new route through virgin forest.

It’s ironic that this most traditional of ski areas is attached to a modern resort which lacks the rustic charm normally associated with Swiss Alpine villages. Davos was originally a small agricultural and mining village which evolved into a health spa when scientists discovered the benefits of its dry climate for the respiratory system.

Modern Davos has swelled into a large, sophisticated and aristocratic town. Although understated in its affluence, the concentration of elegant boutiques and jewellers at the Platz end of town is dazzling. They display a bewildering choice of the most elegant timepieces money can buy - although a good torch might prove just as useful if you’re contemplating a late trip down the Derby.

Read more travel writing by Martin Li