A look at the daily challenges of living in the exotic land of the Swiss.

Showing posts with label hiking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hiking. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

One last visit from Mom

Greetings faithful readers, if there are any of you left.  You are undoubtedly asking yourself why (after so much silence) there would be an update to this blog, what with the fact that, I left Switzerland long ago and thus could not have much more to say about the country.  You would be right about me leaving Switzerland (nearly three months ago, now), but you would be wrong about me not having anything to say.  Mainly, as I was incredibly busy before I left and have not really been too motivated to work on the blog once I got back to the States, I have a little bit of catching up to do before I can comfortably put this blog to bed.  I figure that I have about three more posts in me (this one included) and that'll be it.



Mom's Final Visit


After the great success that was my father's solo visit (see here, for details), it was decided that eventually my mom should have her turn to hang out with me, and thus plans were set in motion.  She came out at the beginning of September, which turned out to be perfect timing as most of the tourists had gone home for the year yet the weather was still warm enough for outdoor fun.  Our first stop: Paris!

We took the TGV to Paris, which turned out to be incredibly convenient.  From Lausanne to Paris, it is only 3h40 minutes, which makes the train significantly faster (and roughly the same price) as driving.  Although we managed to do lots of other interesting things (such as a guided tour of the Louvre from our friend Olivier), our main purpose in visiting was to see some babies.  Word on the street was that two new ones had just arrived at the home of our good friends (and former San Diegans) Laurent and Carole.


Above, you can see Carole with ... I think that's Louca,but it might be Elio.  At the time, I definitely could have told you (the two twins looked totally different) but right now the memory is a little fuzzy.  For sure, the guy lurking around the back of the photo is definitely Laurent.


If the last one was Louca, then this one with my Mom is definitely Elio, I think.  Although, it certainly is possible that I accidentally picked two photos of the same baby.  Well, at any rate, let the record show that we indeed visited Carole, Laurent, and their two beautiful babies, Elio and Louca.

After returning from Paris, we decided to rent a car and hit the road.  Hoping to complete my goal of visiting every canton in Switzerland, we headed off in the direction of Ticino, which forms the vast bulk of the Italian part of Switzerland.  To get there, instead of taking the autoroute and a tunnel or two, we decided to drive some more scenic mountain roads and ended up driving the entire length of the Valais and then crossing the Nufenen Pass into Ticino.  Although the lower part of Valais is moderately populated, at least on the valley bottom, Upper Valais is really sparsely populated and basically just doted with tiny little villages.  It is hard to do them justice, but each hamlet we passed looked like it could have been the inspiration for Heidi.  One of the neatest aspects was the way that very old-fashioned, traditional, humble buildings were right next door to newer, nicer, or just much more expensive places.


For instance, this seemingly normal looking church (above), looked like this on the inside:


and it was located right across the street from this:


Just to answer the inevitable questions: yes, that weird two-staircase design was everywhere in this part of the country and no, I have no idea why.  There are literally entire books that you can buy that discuss the minutiae of traditional barn design and the differences from canton to canton, unfortunately I never bought one of these (I'm kicking myself now), so I will never know why so many people felt the need to have two doors on opposite sides of the building, each with their own staircase.  It's a secret to everybody.

Ticino, by the way, is beautiful.  We decided to stay in Lugano, the capital city, as it is beautifully located on Lago di Lugano, a glacial lake on the border between Switzerland and Italy.


Along the border of Lago di Lugano are a number of small hills and mountains, many of which have little funiculars or cog trains that allow for incredible views with only the smallest effort


I don't think it is really evident in the picture above, but I want to note here that it was not obtained with the minimal effort.  Upon climbing the steps to the roof of the little chapel on top of the mountain, I decided that I needed to try to capture the incredible view.  After a couple of shots, I thought that I was going to have a tough time getting a good shot with the massive swarm of mosquitoes on the roof.  Then, I realized that the mosquitoes were hardly a problem at all, and that it was the swarm of bees that would be the real challenge.  Nonetheless, I ran right up next to the hive to take this picture, then bravely ran away, away.

As some of you may know, lately my Mom has been on an incredible fitness kick.  Walking many miles every morning and eating nothing but raw meat she catches with her own hands, she has become a formidable athlete.  Eager to put her new powers to use, she was hoping to go on some nice, pleasant hikes in Switzerland.  Our first hike was from the top of Monte San Salvatore down to Lago di Lugano, from which we took the ferry back to Lugano proper.  The forested mountain was really nice, but the real treat were the tiny villages we passed on our way down.


Although part of Switzerland, Ticino definitely has more of an Italian feel and these little towns really felt like they could have been in Tuscany somewhere.  Also, at one point during our hike, we were sort of low on food and energy and we came across a fig tree growing near a church.  Exactly two figs were hanging over the path, which we took as a sign that they had been left for us, and promptly devoured them.  Best fig I have ever had.


Lulled into a false sense of confidence, my Mom was easily convinced to go on a much longer, more challenging hike.  The idea was simple: we would leave our car in the tiny town of Spinas and hike to Chamanna Jenatsch, a mountain hut run by the Swiss Alpine Club.  According to the website, it should take about four hours. Of course, as we approached Spinas, we found that we couldn't actually drive to it (only a bike/horse road goes through) and that we would have to park in Bever and hike an extra hour to Spinas.  This was my first mistake.  My second mistake was that I left the very detailed maps that I had printed out back in my apartment and thus, although there was effectively no possibility of getting lost with but a single trail, we never really knew how far along we were or how much more we had to go.


As we started hiking, we noticed that there were just tons and tons and tons of fresh raspberries along the trail.  We saw a bunch of other hikers and honestly couldn't really figure out why there were so many berries left this late in the season -- shouldn't they have been eaten by now?  These questions, of course, were nothing in the face of our hunger and we ended up eating handful after handful of the wild fruits.  They were incredible.  Of course, when I was telling a friend about this later, I was informed that the reason no one else was eating them was that wild berries can (possibly) be carriers of echinococcosis, or fox tapeworm.  The idea is that the berries grow close enough to the ground that they might have traces of fox urine on them, and that urine might carry this tapeworm which, upon ingestion, travels directly to your liver and then starts growing into a baseball size lump over the course of many, many years.  As a preventative measure upon finding this out, I put my liver through a rigorous and thorough toxification program to ensure that no tapeworm would possibly want to make a home inside.  But I digress.

I don't think I can stress enough how much more difficult this hike turned out to be than I originally intended.  Consulting a map on my return, I realized that to get to the cabin, my Mom and I hiked more than 10 miles and climbed more than 3000 feet.  To be honest, near the end I was really starting to worry that it would just be too much and that we wouldn't finish while it was still light, but every time I turned around, my Mom was just kicking ass, plugging away at a constant pace, and swinging those crazy walking poles.  Even as it got really steep and rough at the end, she pressed on and didn't once complain.  It have never been more proud in my whole life.


The cabin was great -- good food, friendly people, warm rooms, and even running water -- and I think it gave my Mom a great introduction to the whole hut-to-hut hiking experience.  Although I definitely prefer normal backpacking -- carrying a huge pack, sleeping outside, avoiding civilization -- there is something to be said for these huts and the way that they let you get out into the wilderness for a night without having to have anything more than a school backpack.

As far as my Mom was concerned, our return hike the next day was pretty much the highlight of the whole trip.  Although we had heard them the previous day, it wasn't until then that we finally had our first marmot encounter.


Sure, they look a little like extremely obese squirrels, but they definitely have charm.  Whistling, slouching around, generally being lazy -- they live the dream life.  I was really happy that we had a chance to see one up close as, really, no mountain experience would be complete without one.



There was lots more to our trip, but only one major thing of note.  Without any foresight or planning, while driving back through the Berner Oberland we stumbled across the Reichenbach Falls.  Although I had definitely read about them in a guide book earlier, by this point I had basically forgotten that they were even in Switzerland, so it was a pleasant surprise to see a little sign on the side of the road and my Mom, mystery lover to the extreme, and I took a quick pause to check them out.

A cog train carries you up to the viewing platform where you can see the scene of the most dramatic of literary struggles.  A star on the cliff gives you the exact location where the fight took place:


We only had a few minutes, so we didn't get to hike around the falls (which is supposed to be nice) or raid the gift shop, but I did get a photo of this plaque, which sits at the bottom of the falls.


Pretty cool.



It is kind of fitting that this will be my last "normal" post -- I'll probably write two "summary" posts eventually -- as the whole trip was one of the best I've ever been on in my life.  We really saw a lot of the country, did a lot of cool things, and had a lot of fun.  Here's to many more in the future


Thanks Mom!

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Mountains beyond mountains

Hola amigos, I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya ... and no excuses.  Things have indeed been pretty busy around here, but really the main reason I haven't made any updates to the blog is just plain laziness.  Not a whole lot to say, really.  And, you know how it is: put it off for a little while; then you start feeling bad that you didn't do it when you should have; which makes you not want to do it; which makes you put it off some more; which makes you feel even worse; etc.  Kinda like bathing.  Anyhow, it is starting to look like my days in la Suisse may be numbered, so I figured I should sort of empty the metaphorical hopper of all the stuff I haven't posted yet just so that it will be there for all.  Seeing as how I talk to most of my "readership" personally (Hi Mom), most of you have probably heard of or seen a lot of this, so you'll have to wait for even later updates for some new info.



The Jura, redux

No other place on earth offers more and better mountain adventures than Switzerland.  In the summer time, the possibilities are nearly endless.  As I was pretty sure going in that this would be my last summer here, I figured I should try my best to get out as early and as often as possible.  By May, the nearby Jura Mountains were mostly snow and mud-free, so I started there.

Fig. 1: L'arbre des 2 menteurs, the "tree of the two liars," near the Creux du Van.

For my first hike of the season, I re-did my first hike in Switzerland -- I went from the Gorge de la Poëta Raisse to the beautiful Creux du Van, near Neuchatel.  The hike was much the same as before, sans the getting lost, except there were a couple of surprises.  First, the above tree.  It is, as the plaque indicates, the Tree of the Two Liars.  If you search for the phrase in French on google (with quotes), it will not return a single hit.  Searches for the translated phrase in English were not much better.  So, then, what is the deal with this tree? I have no clue.  I figure, though, that by posting something online at least I will be establishing some sort of trail which eventually might lead to some info.  There was a farmhouse somewhat nearby, but no one was home when I went past so I could not get any local info to help me out, either.  And, no, the tree isn't special in any way -- it looks just like any other tree, outside of the plaque.  Maybe the internet will eventually come up with an answer.

Fig. 2: ShamWow!  The reintroduced chamois have absolutely no fear of people as they are a protected species.  These guys -- massive, pointy horns and all -- had no problem wandering around me while I hiked by.

One more exciting thing from this hike was that --unlike last trip -- I got to see some of the famous chamois of the region.  Chamois used to be native to the region, but industrialization and increased population wiped them out a while ago.  They were artificially reintroduced at some point and have since thrived in their reclaimed homeland.  More known in the US for their soft, smooth leather (shammy), these guys are protected by law and will not ever be used to polish expensive cars.



Chartreuse

The next hiking trip I went on (or, at least the next one I can find good pictures of) was to the Chartreuse region, near Grenoble.  After meeting Loren in Grenoble, we hopped on a bus and headed into the wilderness to spend then day hiking, then camping out in the wild.  Unlike in Switzerland, where tent camping is illegal throughout, in France one is allowed to make temporary camps (bivouacs) as long as you have packed everything up in the morning.  As we were only planning on staying one night, this was just fine with us.

Fig. 3: One of the many awesome limestone cliffs of Chartreuse.

The Chartreuse region is made out of soft limestone and over the millennia, rainwater has carved it out leaving a bunch of caves, cliffs and other exciting features.  The views off of the top were absolutely incredible, and the heavily carved nature of the rock meant that there were just tons of unusual things.

Fig. 4: The Trou du Glas.  Although it was the middle of the summer, there were huge pieces of ice inside this little cave and the water inside was icy cold and delicious.

Fig. 5: One of the more unusual things in Chartreuse.



Zinal Glacier

Even more mountains! As I have mentioned before on this blog (somewhere, I'm sure), the mountains here are peppered with cabins that are run by the Swiss Alpine Club that you can stay at for a very reasonable price. So, instead of camping out in tents, if you want to do an overnight or multi-day hike in Switzerland, you generally end up staying in one of these mountain huts or cabins. The cabins are staffed during the summer hiking season and the winter skiing season and they offer a really nice dinner, breakfast, and the company of other people. Although it seemingly rained all August, toward the end there was one weekend that was nearly perfect. I got on the train, then took a (totally packed) bus out to Zinal, which is quite literally the very furthest east outpost of French speakers in the country. It is well into the alps and a great jumping off point for a bunch of different hikes. I decided to head to the Zinal Glacier and to stay at the Cabane du Grand Mountet nearby.

Fig. 6: The Zinal Glacier.

Not to sound like a broken record, but it was an incredible hike.  The trail was really, really tough (the ascent was more than 4000 ft over about 8 miles) but the valley that it ascended was incredible and the view of the glacier at the end was definitely worth it.

Fig. 7: The Cabane du Grand Mountet.

Fig. 8: At every cabin, they always have a bunch of slippers for you to wear inside. Usually, they are kinda old and not available in my size, but at the Cabane du Grand Mountet, it was first-class all the way.  Check out these custom Swiss Alpine Club Crocs.  I know that I've probably sworn that I would never wear Crocs, but I felt like I could make an exception this time.

Fig. 9: Near the Cabane du Grand Mountet.  What kind of blog post would this be without a picture of a beautiful scenic landscape largely obscured by my head?



The Berner Oberland

The most famous hiking region of Switzerland is definitely the Berner Oberland.  Basically, a couple of valleys and a bunch of famous mountains (Eiger, Monch, Jungfrau) near Interlaken, it is the definition of "post-card Switzerland."  The area is extremely popular with Japanese tourists (I read somewhere that at roughly any given time in the summer more than 25% of the people in Interlaken are Japanese) and now Indians (who come to enjoy the alpine scenery that features prominently in many Bollywood films).  Thanks to the influx of tourists, there are an incredible number of trains, lifts, and gondolas that will take you up to some incredible viewpoints (including the Jungfraujoch, the highest train station in Europe).  Of course, thanks to the influx of tourists, these trains are ridiculously expensive.  As they are also at least two connections away from Lausanne, it's also a bit of a pain to get there, so until this summer I had never really been in the area.

Fortunately, though, Migros (the supermarket) was running a little sticker-collecting promotion that allowed you to get certain tourist train tickets two for the price of one.  Jens, officemate extraordinaire, and I decided to take this opportunity to head out to the Berner Oberland and to hike the Faulhornweg, allegedly the most awe-inspiring and beautiful hike in all of Switzerland (so says Rick Steves and two other guide books I own).

Fig. 10: Jens and Paul, looking good in the Berner Oberland.

As you can see, the views were incredible!  I wish I had a picture with at least a hint of a mountain or two, but we literally could not see a single peak all hike.  The layer of clouds and fog was so thick that the temperature difference at the top of the hike and the bottom was like 30 degrees (maybe 40 on the top and about 70 in the valley).  So, this was about the best picture we got all day.  Well, at least it was good exercise.

Fig. 11: We need more Bort license plates in the gift shop. I repeat, we are sold out of Bort License Plates.



Via Ferrata at Jaegihorn

A via ferrata is a climbing route that has been set up with a permanently fixed metal cable running the entire length. Climbers wear a normal climbing harness equipped with two special ropes (called longes in French) that are attached to the cable to catch the climber if he/she falls.  In addition to the cable, there are also (generally) numerous metal supports, brackets, rungs, and bolts that have been attached to the route to help climbers through difficult patches.  The idea is that the routes are sort of an intermediate difficulty between normal hiking and real climbing.  Although I really do not have the upper-body strength for real climbing, I figured that a via ferrata would be a fun challenge so I decided to go along with my friend David on a trip he organized.

Fig. 12: Me (in the center) with part of the via ferrata posse.  This shot shows a really flat and easy part of the route.

Although I definitely had some idea before I left, I guess I really didn't realize just how difficult the trip would be.  At first, you climb along the rocks, holding onto little handles, putting your feet into cracks, and generally feeling like a badass mountain man.  Then, the holds get smaller, the climb gets more vertical, and you have to start really thinking about where to put your hand next.  After a while, though, you figure out how things work and it becomes fairly routine.  Then, we hit this:

Fig. 13: The infamous cable bridge of the Jaegihorn Via Ferrata.  Probably not a lot of fun for those who are sensitive to vertigo, but with all the safety cables, it wasn't that bad.

It is hard for the picture to do justice, but this suspension bridge (which is two cables wide) is really high up (328 ft up) and really long (295 ft long).  The safety ropes really help with balance (having one above your head puts you in a naturally balanced position) but the length combined with the high wind made it very, very tense.  Of course, I knew about the bridge ahead of time and figured that although it would be tough that I could make it without incident.  I was right, but what I didn't know about was what was after the bridge.

Fig. 14: The bridge and monkey net.

It is really difficult to see in the photo, but after the bridge was a monkey net -- which was difficult to climb and tiring -- and then a sheer vertical wall.  Although most via ferratas have lots of iron rungs bolted into the wall, this one was apparently set for a much greater difficulty and there was very little aid.  At times, you would find yourself resting on a single half-inch bold that had been drilled into the wall, staring down to the rocks, hundreds of feet below you.  Of course, nearly everyone else who went had a lot of (real) climbing experience, so I got a lot of help and advice in terms of where to put my hands and feet which really made the whole thing a lot more doable.  In the end, I was really proud of myself for making it to the top and I definitely got a taste for more via ferrata in the future.

Fig. 15: This is some sort of mountain goat.  Everyone had a theory about what type it was and what it was called in German or English, but none of us were really sure.



OK. That's all for now. But, I definitely promise more updates to follow. Maybe not soon, but soon enough. Thanks for your patience.

Monday, October 26, 2009

The continuing adventures of the world's stupidest man

What with the end of the decent weather fast approaching, I have been doing my best to get outside and enjoy the natural beauty of Switzerland (at least when I'm not doing laundry). As the forecast for Sunday didn't look too bad, Jens (my officemate) and I decided to embark on an impromptu hike. Armed with only my (up-to-this-point) trustworthy "Walking in Switzerland" guidebook, we met at the train station Sunday morning and chose a hiking destination on the spot. As neither of us were feeling like a huge adventure, we decided on a hike in the nearby Jura mountains. A quick glance through the guide found us a 5-6 hour hike that featured both a gorge and a long crest with "splendid vistas of the main Alpine massifs." At this point, it was only 9:45 and according to the book, the last bus from the end-town left at 7 PM, so we figured that we were in good shape.

Just to start things off on the wrong foot, we made sure to get on the wrong train. Now, it should be noted that this was most decidedly not our fault. As our destination was a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere, and even the largest nearby town (Bienne) was not that huge, we didn't know which train we wanted. So, like sensible people, we went to the counter and asked an agent. Apparently, as some sort of cruel joke, she told us to get on the train on track 1 headed to St. Gall. Once we were on the train, though, we realized that it did not stop in Bienne, but rather went to Bern and that not only would we lose about an hour in wasted time, but that we had the wrong train tickets and would have to bargain with the conductor not to charge us a fine.

Eventually, though, we managed to make it to beautiful St. Imier, a French speaking town in the Bernese Jura area, and we started our hike. Again, we didn't want to make things too easy so we made a wrong turn just fifteen minutes or so into the hike. Once again, to be fair, there was a great deal of confusion generated by the fact that we had already hit a road that was decidedly not on the map in the book and yet somehow managed to exist. On the positive side, during our little excursion we did walk by a pen which had some horses and cows in it and as we were walking by, the horses decided that they wanted to race us!

Fig. 1: Horse race! At first, the horses just started running straight at us. Since the "fence" between us and them was about three feet high, it was more than a little frightening. When they made the turn and started running along side us, though, we knew that we had made new friends.

Eventually, though, we got back on the right track and managed to find the gorge. It was, needless to say, awesome.

Fig. 2: Jens, the proud Wolverine, in the Combe Grède gorge.

Fig. 3: This stood a very good chance of becoming my "last known photograph."

When we hit the top of the gorge, it was already about 2:30 or 3:00. As the book indicated that we had about 3 or 3 1/2 hours left, we thought we were in pretty good shape. Unfortunately, it was at this point that the trails indicated on the map in the book and the trails that we saw (and the posted maps that we saw) began to greatly diverge. Frequently, we would reach signs that pointed us in very confusing directions along trails and even roads that seemingly shouldn't have existed. To make matters more exciting, it was a very foggy and damp day and our vision was limited in all directions and most of the ground was thick with mud.

We slogged through the mud and the fog for what seemed like forever. Nearly every sign we saw was confusing and not helpful, but eventually we hit some landmarks that we could identify with certainty. Although it was a good feeling to know where we were, our hopes quickly faded as we realized that we were quite far from where we wanted to be. In fact, going by the estimated walking times on the signs, we wouldn't reach our destination of Orvin before 7:30 or even 8:00. And, since Saturday was the end of Daylight Savings Time here, it was already getting quite dark by 5:30 or so.

So, it was dark, foggy, slightly rainy, and we were quite far from where we needed to be and most likely wouldn't make it in time to catch the last bus. Could it get worse? Of course. It was roughly at this point that the trail designers decided that they didn't have much need to make an actual trail. As we were hiking over rolling hills and meadows, the "trail" just lazily crossed over huge wide-open spaces and the only way to follow it was to look for indications of previous tracks or to find the way-too-infrequent yellow markers painted on trees. The darker it got, the more difficult this became and after not very long we realized that we had completely lost the trail.

It was pretty much pitch dark by now, with whatever moon there was totally obscured by fog, and the best we could do was just wander along the hillside in the general direction of civilization. In the grand scheme of things, we knew that if we followed the contour of the hill we would hit a town eventually, but that was hardly a comforting thought. We hadn't seen any sign of civilization in a long time and it was starting to look like we would end up spending the night huddled under a tree. This was not in our original plans.

After some very depressing stumbling in the dark, we saw what could only be a building in the distance. As we aproached, we saw something that was even more exciting: a road. But, wait! Was it actually a road? In the very pale light, all we could see was that it was very shinny and very straight. Both Jens and I had roughly the same thought, namely, that this wasn't actually our road to freedom but some stupid irrigation canal that would lead nowhere. This may be hard to imagine, but it really was so dark that we couldn't tell the difference between asphalt and water from 10 feet away. Fortunately, Jens had the brilliant idea to throw a rock at the "road" to see if it made a splash. When it bounced harmlessly off the asphalt, we knew we were ok.

Following the road took us to a farmhouse/restaurant in the countryside that was fortunately still open and staffed by a very friendly Swiss German family. All we were really hoping for was directions to the nearest town (just continue down the road for 15 minutes) and the phone book to look up a taxi company to drive us from there to the train station. Instead, obviously impressed by Jens's formal and polite German, they offered to drive us all the way down to Bienne themselves. It was easily the nicest thing a total stranger has done for me in years and Jens and I will be sure to send them something in the mail to say "thanks."

In the end, after a series of really bad breaks and stupid mistakes, the whole thing came to a very fortunate conclusion. As this is not the first time that my Walking in Switzerland book has failed me (only in the Jura, for some reason), I think I will be forced to retire it and go buy a more current guide. As for Jens, seeing as how this was his first hike with me, I think it'll be a while before I regain his trust and can talk him into another hiking adventure. I guess next week will have to be badminton.

Blog Archive