Or how I went down a black run in Zermatt thinking about travel proposals, and how a digital artifact can be as precise as a well-sharpened ski.

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Last week I skied in Zermatt. Better than 30 years ago.

I’ll say it again because even I can’t believe it: I’m 72 years old, diabetes forced me to quit gin & tonics eight months ago, and it turns out I ski better than when I was 42. My legs respond, the turns come out clean, and the Matterhorn is still there, immutable, looking down at you as if to say: “See? I haven’t aged either.”

But this time something different happened on the mountain. Something that had never happened to me in 40 years of skiing.

What Occurred to Me in the Middle of a Red Run

I was going down a red run towards Furi. Perfect snow, that compact type that yields just enough, like a good conversation. And suddenly, between turns, my mind went somewhere else.

I didn’t think about dinner. I didn’t think about my knees. I thought about proposals.

Specifically, I thought: “The Zermatt artifact I made for that client last week had the photos in the wrong place. And the international ski pass price was from last year.”

And while my body was skiing on autopilot (42 years of muscle memory count for something), my brain was designing a travel proposal. At 2,600 meters altitude. At 50 kilometers per hour. On a red run beneath the Matterhorn.

If that’s not rewired, I don’t know what is.

Two Types of Artifacts

My life now contains two types of artifacts, and both need to be sharp.

Ski artifacts I’ve known for four decades. Well-waxed Rossignols, bindings adjusted to exact weight, boots that hug your feet without cutting circulation. Each piece serves a function. If something fails, you fall. Simple as that.

Claude artifacts I discovered eight months ago. They’re interactive documents that Claude generates in real time: travel proposals with photos, maps, automatically calculated prices, professional design. I tell it: “Prepare me a proposal for 4 people in Zermatt, 7 nights, February, flights from Barcelona, apartment in Täsch, international ski pass.” And in 3 minutes I have an HTML document so elegant it looks like it was made by a Madrid design agency.

The difference is that before it took me 3 hours. And it didn’t look half as good.

How It Works (No Jargon, I Promise)

Imagine dictating a letter to someone with perfect memory, design sense, hotel pricing knowledge, and who never complains that it’s 2 AM.

I tell Claude:

“I have a client who wants to ski in Zermatt. 4 people. Last week of February. Looking for an apartment with kitchen near the slopes. Mid-to-high budget but they don’t want to waste money. They’re interested in the international pass to cross to Cervinia for a day.”

Claude gives me back an artifact — an interactive document that includes:

• An evocative introduction about Zermatt (the car-free village, the Matterhorn backdrop, fondue at 9 PM)
• Two or three accommodation options with descriptions
• Ski pass table with updated prices
• Total price per person, all-inclusive
• My logo, my contact, my signature
• Dark design with golden accents. Elegant. Like the village itself.

The client receives this and thinks I have a design department. Spoiler: it’s me and a Mac at 11 PM.

What Really Changed

Before AI, preparing a Zermatt proposal went like this:

1. Search flights on 3 airlines. Compare. Note down. (45 min)
2. Search accommodation on 4 websites. Convert Swiss francs to euros. (30 min)
3. Calculate ski passes by days and type. (15 min)
4. Open Word. Copy. Paste. Format badly. Reformat. (45 min)
5. Try to make it look good. Fail. Settle. (30 min)
6. Send to client praying they don’t notice the crooked table.

Total: 2-3 hours. Result: mediocre.

Now:

1. Tell Claude what the client needs. (2 min)
2. Claude generates the artifact. (3 min)
3. Review, adjust a couple of things, add my personal touch. (10 min)
4. Send client a proposal that looks like it came from a travel magazine.

Total: 15 minutes. Result: professional.

And the best part: the artifact is reusable. Change the dates, change the client’s name, update prices, and I have another proposal ready. It’s a living template that adapts every time.

The Eureka Moment (at 2,600 Meters)

What I understood going down that red run in Zermatt is that artifacts — ski ones and digital ones — share a philosophy:

Precision matters. A poorly sharpened ski doesn’t turn. A proposal with old data doesn’t sell.

The tool doesn’t make the master, but it helps a lot. I can ski with 10-year-old rental skis, but with good Rossignols I’m a different skier. I can make proposals in Word, but with Claude I’m a one-person agency that looks like ten.

Experience is still what counts. Claude can generate a beautiful Zermatt proposal, but it doesn’t know that Chez Vrony has the best rösti in the valley and that you need to book two weeks in advance. I know that. Because I’ve been there. Many times.

And that combination — 42 years of experience + 8 months of AI — is unbeatable. No online agency can compete with that. Booking.com hasn’t skied the Matterhorn. I have.

For Those in the Trade

If you’re a travel agent still making proposals in Word — or worse, using a generic PDF your tour operator sends you — you’re leaving money on the table. And worse: you’re letting your clients think you’re the same as the other 8,000 agents in the country.

You don’t need to know how to code. You don’t need a design team. You need the same things you need to ski well: good artifacts, practice, and the will to go down the slope even when you’re scared at first.

I started 8 months ago not knowing what a “prompt” was. Now I generate proposals that clients save as references. Some have told me: “Giora, nobody has ever presented a trip to me like this.”

And I think: “Yeah, me neither. Until I discovered the other artifacts.”

PS: The Ski Pass Thing

In the end I finished the run, arrived at the restaurant, ordered a Rivella (which is what I drink now instead of Glühwein, damn diabetes), took out my phone, opened Claude, and fixed the client’s artifact right there. Updated the international pass price, moved a photo, and resent it.

From a terrace in Zermatt. With the Matterhorn in the background. In 4 minutes.

A year ago it would have taken me an hour and a half sitting in my Marbella office.

Sometimes progress is that ridiculous.

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Giora Gilead Elenberg Marbella, February 2026 Skiing since 1985. Making artifacts since 2025. Snow ones and digital ones.