Hiking tour in Switzerland

Wednesday, September 6, to Kandersteg

They said they’d build a fire “if we get to it.” They didn’t. Another good reason to spend the night together in only one of the beds.

Today’s alternative started with taking the PTT bus to Kiental. The road sign says 28% down, 2 km. I repeat my praise for the skill and professionalism of these drivers. I wouldn’t have wanted to take a car down this road; he not only had to steer a bus through these hard short hairpins, but had brought along a little trailer as well for all our backpacks. There were eight of us from the Eurotrek group.

And as well as driving the bus, he acted as tour guide, pointing out the special sights on the route. He even stopped a couple of times so people could enjoy the view – a distant waterfall visible through a break in the trees, or the view down into the Schlucht from the bridge that crosses it.

At Kiental, we walked to the chairlift (Sessellift). Glad we bundled up – this is cold! Our first time on a chairlift; glad it’s a double. Getting on is not much of a problem: you stand on the designated spot, the chair comes up from behind and scoops you up, sweeps you out into space. Now, how do you suppose we’ll get off?

We’ll worry about that when the time comes. It’s a wonderful way to see the world, effortlessly swooping through the air. Unshipped the camera for a view of the Lift itself…

…and an example of Swiss rural architecture: dark unfinished wood, very wide eaves, an arch under the eaves. And this particular one has a collection of cowbells over the front door.

Ok, really, now – how do you get off these things? We imitated the people ahead of us. As you approach the platform, you raise the safety bar; at the right instant, you jump out and immediately duck to the side to let the chair sweep past. A couple of stumbling running steps to regain your balance, and… nothing to it. An easy 450 meters of elevation gain.

The idea was to hike around the shoulder of a ridge and well up the next valley to the west, to Kandersteg. The route is about as level as any trail in the mountains can be, perhaps around 300 meters for the whole day. Sunny, clear, warm and nice. Mostly forest, some meadow. A welcome change from yesterday!

I’ve been wearing the same shirt every day this week, a dark blue chamois shirt with two pockets big enough for maps, altimeter, compass, whatever. Since I’ve also been wearing a polypro undershirt, the outer shirt is really more like a jacket, and as long as it doesn’t become vile, why not keep wearing it?

But today, one of these unintimidated cows stood there on the trail, and didn’t back off even as I assertively jammed past her. The upshot was that my forearm bumped past her nose, and now my shirt is covered with cow slobber. Ok, definitely time to change shirts.

All cows in mountain pastures have bells. Most are designed for low cost and ruggedness. And they clank. But a few cows have flared bells, silver or golden, usually with engraved inscriptions of some kind. They sound much better. Do you suppose they’re the prize animals of the herd?

Getting this picture turned out to be something of an adventure in itself. I wanted a side shot, but the cow turned and came toward me. I knelt down to photograph the bell, and there for a moment, I was in real danger of drowning in cow slobber. What a fate!

…Sure is easy to make friends here.

There is a lot of rail traffic through this valley, far more than the valley itself would justify. We deduced the existence of a tunnel, and the map confirms it. The Lötschbergtunnel, a really long one that goes all the way under the mountain, comes out at Steg, where it connects at Brig with rail lines that go where? Italy, France?

From above, we saw a large curve in the right of way, but didn’t appreciate its significance until we studied the map later: there’s a figure-8 in the valley, much of it in smaller tunnels – beneath our hiking trail – a way for trains to gain elevation before plunging into the long tunnel.

Kandersteg is another pretty town. Wandered down the main street – clearly another tourist town – until we came to our hotel. While Jacky showered, I went across the street to the grocery store. Two bottles of beer for less than one would have cost in the pub, and a much nicer place to enjoy them: sitting on our balcony, enjoying the view. A paraglider, mountains, glaciers.

Out for a short walk to see the town; picked up a couple of decadent items for tomorrow at the Bäckerei.

Swiss restaurants are consistent: sometime during your meal, the manager or owner will come by and wish you, “Guten appetit!” This is sometimes an unlikely-looking person; frequently this individual will take over serving when it’s time to bring out the entrée.

Jacky says if it were her diary, she’d be carefully documenting all the meals. Well, tonight’s was worth documenting. The salad included mushrooms with mushroom mousse, topped with mushroom bits. Oh, yes, and a thin wedge of apple, half a walnut, a slice of avocado… Then came oatmeal soup: strange-sounding but good. The choices for the entrée included venison, which we both ordered. It came with spätzli, Brussels sprouts, a pear half and red conserve of some kind. And they even had Weißbier! Pretty good.

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