Beth and Mark's Gap Year 2014: Alpine Pass Route - Part 2

Day 7 - Resting in Lauterbrunnen

Our notes suggested that we might spend our rest day taking a walk up to Murren, about 10km away and a climb of about 850m. This is because the notes also suggest that we cut short the walking tomorrow (because it is a very big day), by catching the cable car up to Murren, and walking there on our rest day would ensure that we didn't miss an inch of walking. Our aching bodies suggested something very different indeed, they suggested that we don't walk to Murren on our rest day, and that we still catch the cable car up the next day. We chose to listen to our bodies, so instead of a strenuous walk we decided instead to walk about 4 Km along the valley to a place called Trömmelbach Falls, and to just spend the rest of the day lazing around town.

On the way out to the falls an interesting thing happened. As we were walking along, a man of middle eastern appearance and his hijab clad wife came alongside and passed us (we were tired, so passing was acceptable today). He was quite heavy set and had the very stern, almost angry looking expression typical of many middle eastern men, and not helped by the fierce beard that he sported. As he spoke rapidly to his wife in the harsh (to western ears) tones of his Arabic tongue it completed the picture of someone to be feared and avoided. A little further down the trail we caught up with them as he was scanning the landscape in a restless and furtive manner. I determined to look straight ahead and move quickly, but as I started to do so his gaze fixed on me and eye contact was made. What came next was a surprise, a broad but crooked smile of greeting with teeth pointing everywhere changed his fierce look into a kind and genial one. This somewhat took me aback. With the ice broken by this man's friendliness, not mine, we exchanged pleasantries and got chatting. He was a Saudi who was escaping his country's summer with his family, and was a lovely, friendly man, who I enjoyed talking with and was embarrassed by my initial thoughts. I think I spoke once before in this journal of the importance of heeding ones instincts, and I do still stand by that, but I would say that trusting them implicitly is not such a good thing, particularly when those instincts have been honed (albeit unwittingly) by fear, ignorance and bigotry. My instincts told me that this was a man to fear, but nothing could be further from the truth. I was reacting to years of conditioning in the White Anglo Saxon enclave of Melbourne.

Trömmelbach Falls is a very strange thing. Externally it doesn't look all that impressive, it just seems to be a reasonably powerful waterfall feeding a fast flowing stream, but the weird thing about it is that it seems to just appear from about halfway up the valley wall. This is because it's source is the foot of the Eiger and Mönch glaciers, and meltwater and debris from those glaciers has effectively hewn a series of pipes or tunnels through the rock to this point where it discharges something like 25,000 tons of rubble and who knows how much water each year, so it is effectively the glaciers' plumbing. This is all very interesting, but it doesn't really explain what makes this a tourist attraction. Some Swiss 100 years or so ago decided that it would be good to build a tunnel so that the falls could be viewed at various points on its journey through the rocks, and it is this tunnel up through the mountains which attracts the tourists (including us). This is another example of the Swiss digging holes to open up natural wonders. Not to extract minerals, or to establish important trade routes or farm paths, but simply so that people can look at them. Enormous effort for little or no return at the time, but these Swiss were obviously thinking well into the future. Things like the Jungfraujoch, the Aarschlucht and Trömmelbach Falls attract lots of tourists now and help in quite a considerable way with the country's prosperity.

Trömmelbach Falls was quite an experience, as was walking the 4km back into town afterwards. The Lauterbrunnen valley is laced with waterfalls, and we intended on our way back to the hotel to walk a path which takes you under one of these falls to enjoy the cooling spray. The only problem is that whilst we were visiting Trömmelbach Falls the weather turned foul, so we decided that there was no need for cooling off and made our way directly to the hotel. My spray jacket was no match for Swiss rain and I was drenched by the time we returned. We decided that outdoor activities were off for the rest of the day and settled in to shop browsing and coffee sipping to fill in the time til dinner. Hopefully this was the end of dodgy weather for us.

Day 8 - Lauterbrunnen to Griesalp (16km distance, 951m ascent, 1204m descent)

This was meant to be a monster of a day with about 1,800 metres of climbing, but we decided that we would cheat a little and use the cable car service to take us up the first little bit to the town of Murren. When you are in Lauterbrunnen down in the long deep valley, all you can see on either side are the valley walls and you don't notice that at the tops of these walls are the towns of Wengen on one side (where we came from two days prior) and Murren on the other side. It is quite amazing how each of these towns, whilst so close together as the crow flies are so different to each other in almost every respect. The architecture is quite different, town layouts are different, gardens are different, people seem to dress and behave differently, even the attitude of their dogs seems different (the cow bells are the same though). You would think that over the last 100 years or so as tunnels, cable cars and the like diminished the impact of vertical separation that these differences would also have disappeared, apparently not. Although different, all three towns are very nice, and we are tempted to linger in Mürren, but our lazy day was yesterday, and the day was disappearing quickly, so onwards and upwards.

Leaving Mürren provided some of the nicest vistas of the hike so far with magnificent views back to the Jungfrau, Eiger and Mönch, with the Jungfrau dominating, and wonder of wonders, there is only a little bit of cloud obscuring these views. We climb steadily from Mürren knowing that ahead of us lies the dreaded Sefinenfurgge pass. This is the second highest point that we reach on the trek, and from all accounts it is steep, slippery and not recommended for those without a head for heights. Gulp!! I would not describe myself as someone with a head for heights, but too late to turn back now. After a couple of hours of steady uphill enjoying the views, we turn the corner and are confronted with a huge and very steep wall of loose shale rock. "Where to now", say I, secretly fearing that I knew the answer. Beth replied simply by pointing to a small colorful dot on a saddle at the top of the rock wall. This dot was a person who had gone before us. How they got there I was about to find out.

Going up was hard work and quite slippery because the rock was very unstable underfoot, but really it didn't cause me any great anxiety (probably because I was always looking up to where I was going). Once at the top we rested to have lunch and took the opportunity to survey the landscape. The pass itself was very small, and luckily for us there were not a lot of like minded people choosing to take lunch here, because more than likely we would be fighting for the few rocks available to sit on. On either side of us and only about 30 metres apart were steep, craggy rocks which defined the pass. Behind us was the steep slippery slope we had ascended, and it looked just as steep from up here. The frightening bit though is that on the other side, it looked even steeper still, and in the distance we could just see through the mist that there were some snow traverses to negotiate. I was struggling to hold my footing on the rocks, let alone snow. I was happy to take my time eating lunch.

I am pleased that Beth also considerd this descent challenging, so she was happy to go very slowly and carefully. The snow bridges were successfully crossed, and I was very thankful for my walking pole which helped to steady me, I really could not afford any slapstick up here, because a fall almost certainly would mean an involuntary amusement park ride with perhaps not a happy landing. Despite Beth's slow pace I still managed to fall behind. It is amazing in this most hostile of environments how many gorgeous wildflowers seem to flourish. They just seem to pop their dainty heads out of a mass of gravel. These of course caught my attention and caused me to linger whilst contemplating photographs. I did catch up from time to time but invariably dropped off the pace again when my attention was diverted. This I am afraid is my lot in life. I was however very thankful for the distraction of flowers, because it took my attention away from the monstrous slope I was scrambling down.

Eventually things levelled of a little and we were back into cow country, and before we knew it we were on a lovely and lonely little almost flat country path, again with wonderful mountain views, heading into Griesalp (sadly after Engstlenalp Beth's brain is now hard wired to be challenged by any town whose name ends in "alp", and Griesalp in Beth speak is "Greasel-snap". Best I think that when asking directions, she points to the town on a map rather than say its name). We were entirely alone on this path, we know this because looking back you could see way back up the hill where we had come from, and looking forward you could see right down into the village we were heading for, and there was not a soul on the path. Having just mentioned our solitude to Beth a hiker overtook us going at quite a solid pace (faster than us obviously). She was dressed in something which looked like a mix of Swiss Dairy Maid, Amish attire and Nun's habit. After she was out of earshot Beth and I turned to each other and in unison asked "Where did she come from?" To my mind there were 3 possibilities. She had been hiding behind a rock or down a marmot hole (for what reason who knows); she had been visiting at one of the little farm cottages along the path; or she had been sent down as a guardian angel to guide us into town. This was my favoured answer, but as Beth was quick to point out, we had a perfect view of where we were going, and if we were to be sent a guardian angel surely it would be to deal with a situation more dire than the one we currently found ourselves in. Anyway, this theory lost all value soon after when the lady turned into a house to be greeted by other Mother Theresa Swiss Maid types.

Griesalp was another accommodation house we were warned about in our notes. Be prepared for cramped accommodation and shared facilities. This time the notes were spot on. The room was tiny, even Beth had to duck her head for the door, and I felt like Hagrid once inside. The bed, or rather beds (the Swiss have this quaint habit of providing two single beds butted against each other in a double room) occupied almost all the room, so we had to be very compact with our movements . When Beth lay down on the bed to test it out (for comfort) it was obvious to her that she was lying with her head facing downhill (the floor was a long way from level), so she slept that night with her head at the foot of the bed. As for showers and toilets, there was one male and one female shower down in the dungeon (sorry - I meant cellar) servicing the whole hotel (about 20 people this night) and one seriously tiny toilet on each of 3 floors. Given our exertions from earlier in the day, I definitely needed a shower, otherwise I would be sleeping outside with the farm animals (alpacas at this particular farm - yes, in Switzerland). So as soon as we had settled in to the room I made a beeline for downstairs before other guests arrived with the same idea. The shower itself was actually not too bad, but the journey to get there was somewhat off putting. It really was down in a dark and gloomy cellar and you had to wander through all manner of junk to get there. Showers the next morning really weren't a problem either, I think because we were the only hardy souls brave enough to descend into the lower extremes of the building.

Whilst this may sound like the accommodation from hell it was far from it. We had a comfortable (albeit crooked) bed, the food was fantastic, the hosts affable, and if we were smart about it ablutions were possible. One of the things we like about the tour company that organises these trips for us is that they mix it up a bit. One night we will be living the good life and the next night we come down to earth with a thud. But always you get a taste of something different and unique, such as this unpretentious mountain inn.

Day 9 - Griesalp to Kandersteg (16km distance, 1426m ascent, 1658m descent)

No rest day today, and as we set off (uphill of course) I get the sense that my climbing gear is defective. My head says step, and all that happens is a shuffle. I try hard to lift my feet, but it feels like someone has put lead in my boots. I wondered fleetingly about returning these legs to their maker, but I have a feeling that warranty may have run out. I may have complained just a little to Beth about my faulty limbs, but her reply was predictably philosophical. They are what you have, and they are better than nothing. Use them, don't complain about them.

Today is another very big day, for we cross The Hohtürli, a mountain pass which apparently makes the Sefinenfurgge seem like child's play. Perhaps this is why my legs aren't working as they should, they know what they are in for. Not too far along the track we come across a sign (placed there I think by my guardian angel of yesterday) saying "Do not enter - Danger of avalanches". After a bit of discussion, we decided that we should not proceed, but go back and get some advice from locals. Outwardly I showed all the right signs of being disappointed that we may have to abort this leg of our trip. As luck (or is that fate) would have it, we had only just started back when a couple of local hikers happened along, and we asked them whether we should heed the sign or proceed. They looked at the sign and spoke to each other in hushed German tones for a minute or more, whereupon the one obviously chosen as spokesperson came up to us. "There is risk in proceeding", said he "but what is life without risk", then off they went past the sign. Curse these blasted philosophers!! This was enough for Beth. If they were willing to take the risk so would we. We never did see any indication of avalanche danger.

The first part of the walk was steep but pleasant as it passed through forests and ran alongside mountain streams, but eventually it became a little steeper and the forest gave way to bare rock and shale until we came to a point where it didn't seem possible that we could go any further. Beth obviously could tell what I was thinking and again she pointed to a small coloured dot high high up on the ridge above, that was where we were heading. This time the dot was not a person, but a mountain hut. Somehow the track weaves its way backwards and forwards across the slope and then along a ridge heading ever upwards and into the clouds. After about an hour of climbing we bumped into a group of 3 Swiss hikers resting at a snow bridge before tackling the last push to the top. the group was a 70 year old man and his 67 year old wife and their 40 something son. The son looked very fit and athletic, but the same could not be said of the parents, particularly mum who was a little overweight and looking a little the worse for wear from her exertions thus far. We stopped and chatted for a while (these Swiss - along with most of the Swiss population I think - had been to Australia, which provided a good conversation starter). It appears that the mum of the group has a picture on her wall at home of the Blumislalp Hut (that dot we are aiming for), and for years has been saying that she will go to that hut and stay the night. Today she was looking to fulfil that dream. We wished them well and pushed on.

Although we could see the hut quite well now, it still took the best part of an hour to reach the pass, with the last bit of ascent so steep that a series of steps (steep enough to be called ladders I think) and chains were necessary. It was a tough job getting up here, and even though there was snow about and the fog ensured that there was no sun to warm us, I was soaked with sweat and looking I think a little the worse for wear as I took the last step to the top. Beth was in much better shape, but still looking a bit weary. The pass here was just as rugged, but a bit more spacious than the Sefinenfurgge, and there were a lot more people up here. Sadly most of them looked fresh as a daisy and full of energy. I looked around to see if perhaps there was a helicopter which dropped them off, but no, they must have got here the same way as we had. Perhaps once I took refreshments I would look pretty good too.

We sat down at the top of the pass and ate lunch then decided to climb the extra 200m to the Blumislalp hut and by way of celebration treat ourselves to some Heisse schocolade and apfel küchen (hot chocolate and apple cake) which were absolutely delicious. Evidently the makings for all the food sold at the hut is regularly delivered by helicopter, which meant that the 10 Swiss francs it cost us each was a pleasant surprise. We had just finished our treat and were standing to go when who should stumble in the door but the Swiss family from down the hill, mum sporting the biggest smile you can imagine. We clapped and cheered them in and then decided to sit back down and stay with them for a while. Despite mum's very limited English, she was happy to sit and talk with us, even apologising for her poor English (how embarrassing, we were not even trying to use our vey poor German). She was really lovely and we had a great time chatting. I have said it before I know, but the most enjoyable part of travelling is enjoying the company of different people. Eventually we got up to make the journey downhill. When we got outside, the fog had really settled in and it was quite cold, but the hot chocolate had warmed out tummies and the old lady inside had warmed our hearts so we were good to go.

The other side of the pass was much the same as the one we came up (I did check with Beth to make sure we weren't retracing our steps). There were ladders and chains and it was verrrry steep. Flowers again were my saviour, but even they could not take my mind off the growing pain in my knees and toes as we jolted our way down the hill. Eventually the extremely steep stuff gave way to simply very steep stuff which persevered for a couple of hours until we passed the very beatiful Oeschinensee (the German word for lake is see) and then dropped into the outskirts of Kandersteg. As we were walking into Kandersteg we noticed a very large number of young people wandering about, and wondered why. The fact that many of them were wearing funny scarves should have given it away. Kandersteg it seems has been a major centre for the world scout movement for nearly 100 years and there is a camp on the outskirts which hosts up to 2,000 scouts at a time during summer. Given that the permanent population of Kandersteg is about 1,500, it is little wonder that we noticed a high concentration if dib dib dobbers. When we finally reached the hotel it was a very welcome sight. True to form, this hotel had the most magnificent views down the valley to the mountains and was quite luxurious. Chalk and cheese with the Griesalp hotel, but we weren't complaining.

After freshening up we spend the couple of hours before dinner exploring Kandersteg, which is a very nice old town absolutely focused on tourism (scouts, skiers and summer visitors like us). It is also the first station out of the Lötschberg Rail Tunnel which burrows for 15 kilometres below the Alps to connect the Cantons of Bern and Valais. We were amazed at the number of trains hauling mainly cars and caravans through the tunnel. One suspects that caravans do not perform very well on mountain roads. We were also quite amazed by the scouts we saw. Not at all like my childhood memories of scouts. I am sure they were the ones who were able to tie all manner of knots in rope, light fires without matches and were happy to do a job for a bob. Invariably they were excruciatingly clean cut. Most of the scouts I saw here were an unruly bunch, reeking of cigarettte smoke and striking fear into the hearts if Kandersteg shop keepers. I am sure that I only noticed the rogues and there were plenty of the nice traditional scouts about. They were probably too frightened to roam the streets when the rogues were out and about.

Day 10 - Resting in Kandersteg

Whenever you stay in paid accommodation in Europe you are obliged to pay a local tax of generally about €3 per person per night. The theory is that this money is invested in facilities for tourists. This is an interesting concept. I thought that facilities were built to attract tourists who then spend money in town and that imposing a tax is probably double dipping a bit, but clearly my mind does not work like a European's. To make you feel better about the fact that you have handed over €3, your hotel will often provide you with a guest card , which offers discounts on generally useless things. Kandersteg's card however was pretty good in that it offered 50% discount on town cable cars.

So although yesterday was a tough day and it is officially a rest day, we both feel pretty good and decide to take the half price cable car up some 600m to Sunnbüel (a ski resort above town), walk 5 kilometres (and 400m ascent) to the Berghotel Schwartzenbach for lunch, and then walk back again. Surprisingly, despite my two black toenails and the decrepit state of my body the previous day, this was quite pleasant. Perhaps that mountain was also a fitness hurdle I had to get over, or more probably, gentle exercise doesn't kill me, but the serious stuff does. The rest of the day we spend window shopping (Beth seems to find this restful).

Day 11 - Kandersteg to Adelboden (16k distance, 1204m ascent, 1024m descent)

Although our notes suggest that our biggest days are now behind us, I find the hike up to the Bunderchrinde pass to be extremely challenging and at times quite frightening. As per previous days our walk starts with a climb (initially through forest, but then open farm land) which gradually increases in intensity as we progress. Today the climbing seems particularly steep and rather than push straight up to the Bunderchrinde pass, our route zig zags up the hill through rutted cow pastures across and to the right of the Bunderchrinde and then takes us back along a ridge to the base of the steep scree pile we need to clamber up to reach the pass. Walking through muddy ruts and cow muck is a lot of fun, but not nearly as much fun as traversing the ridge. Beth seems to have no problems with this sort of terrain, but it puts the wind up me a bit. On one side of the ridge if you fell the worst you would get is a few bruises and a drenching with cow muck, one the other side however, if you slip, it is down a sheer cliff face and into the cloud below and rocks beyond. In short, you perish. A fence runs along the ridge, and of course the path takes us along the dangerous side of the fence. Beth would say that the path was well formed and fairly wide, so there were no dangers. I didn't see it quite that way.

The push up to the Bunderchrinde was steep and very slippery, but reasonably short, and we made it without any real dramas. Once at the top, we did what now seemed to be the customary thing and pulled out our bread stick to dine. As was the case with the other two high passes, the weather was foul and there was not a lot of space to make yourself comfortable in, so we resolved not to linger. The arrival of a pair of hikers and a scout group all speaking English and smoking cigarettes was too much for us and hastened our departure. I think that this descent was the hardest of all. It was very steep and unstable, and there were no ladders or chains to provide any assistance, but thankfully some trail workers (there is a Swiss organisation responsible for maintaining trails) had recently shaped some footholds into the scree which was quite helpful. More slow and steady, more sore knees and more sore toes, but this time the landscape is so desolate that there are not enough wildflowers to distract me, so I can focus 100% on my misery. Soon enough though things settle down and and we start the long, but steady descent into Adelboden.

Although distance has not been a big factor today, it has again been quite a tough day and we breathe a sigh of relief as we hit the outskirts of Adelboden only to then look ahead to see that the town centre (and of course our hotel) are over and up the other side of the valley, which of course means one last long and steep climb for the day. A cruel trick to play on a pair of weary walkers. Adelboden fits pretty much the same mould as Kandersteg (except there are less scouts). It is a tourist town catering essentially for skiers.

Day 12 - Adelboden to Lenk (11k distance, 600m ascent, 888m descent)

Day 13 - Lenk to Saanen (14k distance, 970m ascent, 797m descent)

As the first two days if this tour seemed to be about easing us into our stride, the last two days seem to be pretty much a warm down exercise and whilst the walks to Lenk and Saanen are very much still part of the Alpine Pass Route and hold there own little challenges and delights, we have left the alps we came to see behind us, and these are justa couple of pleasant and relatively easy walks over rolling green hills. The views are still beatiful, but we have become a bit blasé, and they are nothing compared with what we have already seen.

Lenk was pretty and friendly and a little less touristy than other towns we had visited, but was also a little unremarkable. Interestingly, and perhaps this is because we were getting closer to the French speaking part of Switzerland, this was the first town we noticed where basically everything closes down for lunch between 12:00 and 2:00. Beth also noted that as this was a very easy day, it was probably also the only town we had actually arrived at between 12:00 and 2:00.

Saanen and it's close neighbour Gstaad are quite beautiful villages. We arrived in Saanen on their market day and the streets were packed with traders' stalls and prospective customers. Once we had checked into our hotel (which was the former old town hall and still retained all the trappings associated with that use) we decided to go out and have a look at the market. We were quite amazed at the price tags placed on things which seemed to us to nothing more than a load of old rubbish. We were even more surprised to see that people were actually buying these things.

Switzerland is a very expensive place to visit, to the extent that we would really need to think hard about spending a lot of time here again. Saanen was a stark reminder to us of these high costs, and also of the Swiss propensity to take as much money out of your pockets as they possibly can. While wandering through the market, we decided that we would get cup of coffe and piece of tart each from a street vendor. The young man behind the stall charged me 16 Francs (roughly $20), which is a bit pricey for a small espresso in a paper cup and an average sized piece of tart, but it was par for the course in Switzerland so I handed the money over without too much concern. At this, a man who I assume to be the stall owner berated the young man for charging the wrong amount. I foolishly thought a price reduction was coming, but no, evidently this little treat was actually worth 24 Francs. The cake was very sweet but seemed to leave a bitter taste in my mouth. Later that night we were charged 7.8 Francs for a carafe of tap water. I am looking forward to getting back to Germany, where 24 Francs will buy you a very nice meal, and 7.8 Francs is the drinks bill for a big night out.

Although the weather has not always been kind to us we have really enjoyed the Alpine Pass Route, it has challenged and enthralled us. We have found good companionship and hospitality from our hoteliers and fellow hikers, we have eaten like kings and we have enjoyed the diversity which Switzerland offers. Now we are heading to Montreux on Lake Geneva to take the Goldenpass Train route through Interlaken to Lucerne. Some people pay a lot of money to be pampered and fed on this train trip whilst sitting in coaches with panoramic views. We will take the standard regional trains used by Swiss commuters, which have no frills but travel the arame route at a fraction of the price. The Swiss have enough of my money already, they don't need any more.