The Brecon Effect - Grant Maunder’s Quiet Rebellion in the Alps

Grant Maunder is not your typical hotelier. Nor would he care to be called one. He is a financier by trade, a car obsessive by instinct, and a connoisseur of Welsh blankets by emotional inheritance. Most notably, he is a man who has completely rethought what Alpine hospitality can feel like, and it shows.

You will likely meet Grant if you stay at The Brecon, his design chalet-hotel (18 rooms and 4 suites) in the Swiss resort of Adelboden, which opened in 2024. In fact, it is hard not to. He is often the one suggesting an off-piste hike or inviting you into his custom-refit Land Rover for a scenic detour and a philosophical chat about Vitra sofas, slate flooring, and the right angle of sunlight in the lounge. This is hospitality with a human edge: casual, collected, and deeply personal.

From the outside, The Brecon sits quietly at the far end of Adelboden, timbered like its neighbours, pitched just so. But something’s off, in the best way. The lines are a little too considered, the mood a little too worldly. Step inside and it begins to reveal itself. This is no ordinary Alpine chalet. This is Grant Maunder’s world.

That world began with a building.
“I’d known about the old Waldhaus for a long time,” Grant says, recalling the moment the idea took hold. “It was hard to miss. Sitting at the end of the village with this slightly melancholic air. It always looked like it had a story.” When the family who owned it approached him, hoping to preserve it as a place of hospitality rather than see it carved into holiday flats, Grant stepped in, not with a wrecking ball, but with quiet intent.

The building, unsurprisingly, had its share of ghosts. “Let’s just say it had character,” he grins. “Some parts looked like time had just stopped. But that also meant we could be really deliberate about what we kept and what we changed.” Among the survivors: a marble and mosaic spiral staircase, reimagined furniture, and a revolving door inspired, naturally, by Peter Sellers’ Pink Panther entrance scene. “It brings a smile to my face every time I walk in,” Grant admits. “We’ve got fork handles as well, but I’ll not go there.”

The result is The Brecon: an adults-only retreat that feels closer to a friend’s rather perfect mountain house than a hotel. There are no televisions. No check-in desks. No upselling. Just thoughtful materials, deep sofas, and a fully inclusive approach that turns mini-bar politics into a thing of the past. “It’s not about luxury in the traditional sense,” Grant says. “It’s about generosity, ease, and looking after people in a way that feels natural.”

The design is deliberate, but never shouty. He worked with Amsterdam-based studio Nicemakers to craft an interior that feels calm, layered, and quietly confident. “I didn’t have a rigid brief,” he says. “I just knew I wanted it to feel like a place you could arrive and instantly exhale.” That meant materials that get better with age, rhythms that aren’t too perfect, and corners that invite lingering. 

That sense of home is layered with nostalgia, particularly for Wales. It is in the intricate stone floors laid by landscape designer and craftsman Rowan - a fellow Welshman and buddy from Pembrokeshire; the seaweed lampshades; the hand-thrown pottery by Grant’s wife Andrea and the throws from Melin Tregwynt. “I sometimes call it ‘Swelsh’,” he says. “There’s a quiet connection between Wales and the Alps, Adelboden in particular. Both places are full of texture, solitude, and stories that aren’t in a guidebook.”

But this isn’t just a personal indulgence. Grant’s take on hospitality has earned him a serious following and a few design awards along the way. The Brecon has landed on the insider radar as one of the most interesting boutique stays in the Alps. It’s small, grown-up, and refreshingly unbothered about being trendy.

If you’re lucky, you’ll bump into Grant during your stay. If you’re really lucky, he’ll offer to take you out in the Land Rover. 

“Cars are a bit of an obsession,” he admits. “There’s something about machines and materials, it’s all connected to design for me.”

That crossover between craft, motion and mood sits at the core of The Brecon’s DNA.

In the end, The Brecon doesn’t just represent a new kind of Alpine hotel. It represents a new kind of host. One who knows how to shuffle furniture for hours, just to end up back where he started. One who doesn’t need to perform hospitality, but simply lives it.

And once you’ve been, you don’t just remember The Brecon. You remember how it made you feel: like you’d stumbled into something rare, and beautifully your own.