Throw a patterned pillow out of a window in the Goldener, and you'll nearly hit the Deer Valley Sterling chairlift. The first part of that sentence is possible because the 20-room property is right on the slopes of Deer Valley. The urge to hurl a pillow? Blame the hodgepodge of imported Austrian furniture stuffing the guest rooms. In any case, the easy mountain access is the selling point. Valets will store your skis, the wood-burning fireplaces in many rooms make it easy to dry out gloves, and all bathrooms have granite countertops and travertine tile. Look for package deals that include room, lift tickets, and a massage for a good price. In the restaurant, Swiss-trained executive chef James Dumas turns out elk and chestnut spaetzle; fondue blended from Gruyère, Appenzeller, Emmentaler, and Vacherin cheeses; and other hearty classics.

Closed from mid-April–mid-June and mid-October–early December.

When the Sky Lodge opened in December on a choice lot on the corner of Main Street and Heber Avenue, it laid claim to being the most luxurious digs in this former mining outpost. The six-story, 33-suite property rises above its Victorian neighbors, and its "mountain loft" aesthetic turns the archetypal ski lodge on its head, starting in the reception lounge with its expansive concrete fireplace. When you come in off the slope, attendants sweep your skis into the locker room, and glass elevators zip you up to your floor. The one-, two-, and three-bedroom suites are drenched in natural light, while sleek furniture in red-orange hues highlights hand-planed wood floors, and abstract paintings hang above in-wall fireplaces framed by rusted steel girders. DVD players and Bose sound systems are standard, and sliding wall panels open to the master bath, the centerpiece of which is a soaking tub that's filled by a ceiling-mounted faucet. The concierge can stock the pantry of your state-of-the-art kitchen, though there are many reasons to eat out: Sunset hors d'oeuvres and drinks are served in the SkyClub, which opens to a heated deck with fire pit, ten-person hot tub, and 360-degree views. Three of Park City's most popular restaurants, including Robert Redford's Zoom, are here, and Main Street's abundant dining and shopping scenes are steps away. Don't stay up too late—early-morning avalanche blasting is your wake-up call, and shuttles to all three Park City-area resorts will whisk you away for first tracks.

Norwegian Stein Eriksen, who won a gold medal for giant slalom at the 1952 Olympics and then three gold medals at the 1954 World Championships, is director of skiing at Deer Valley Resort. So it's no surprise the hotel that borrows his name (he's the property's so-called "ambassador") is close to the slopes. The lodge is at the base of Deer Mountain's Sterling lift. But what makes it so winning is the number of comfort-driven amenities: Each of the 175 rooms has a jet tub and humidifier; suites have stone fireplaces; and the restaurant, Glitretind, is the best in town. The design is odd but fun, as if a hunter with a taste for Danish modernism had a go at decoration—the walls are stone with pale wood trimming. And what would an au courant ski lodge be without the comforts of a spa? Stein's includes an outdoor pool, fitness center, and an hour-long ashiatsu treatment, in which the masseuse literally walks back and forth on your body.

When many of us think of Park City, it's not skiing that's on our minds. Our thoughts turn to Bob, his festival, and all that Hollywood pizzazz generated in such a small community. Sundance is the spot to sponge up that energy, with up-and-coming directors in the lobby, unsold screenplays scattered across the coffee tables, and the opportunity to catch a glimpse of Robert Redford himself. There's a constant rotation of readings, screenings, and workshops. The small but excellent, 450-acre private slopes on the grounds are also pretty darn inviting: The odds of leaving first tracks are high. As for the lodging, the 105 Native American–themed rooms and homes are right on the edge of being too much (Navajo rugs are everywhere), but any place that helped launch Quentin Tarantino's career is bound to retain a detached auteur cool.

Drawing an artier crowd than the other Park City snow hotels, this affordable,15-room schoolhouse-turned-B&B has a funky, reclaimed vibe. Just a block off Main Street, it has a touch of dollhouse dress-up to it: For instance the lavishly done-up Victorian-inspired rooms are named after schoolteachers (Ms. Larsen has a leather sleigh bed, Ms. Thatcher a step-up four-poster and fireplace). Service is convivial, too: The happy staff are constantly offering cinnamon rolls and coffee. But it's the details like the high thread count of the sheets and in-room massages (in the suites) that keep the place from toppling into kitsch.