Is Switzerland heaven?
A case in point
Yes, Switzerland has problems — just like any other human-occupied place on this burning planet. And yet this landlocked central European nation of 9 million has the highest life expectancy in the world, the highest per-capita wealth in the world, and perenially ranks near the top in life satisfaction. The Swiss are the world’s largest consumers of chocolate, and yet they also score high on health indexes. The country is ranked as “one of the least corrupt nations in the world.” (Of course, the banking sector is ranked as “one of the most corrupt in the world.”) It recently scored third in the world on the Environmental Performance Index. Switzerland had the second-highest global rating in the Index of Economic Freedom 2023, and yet it continues to provide significant public services.
Can you tell? I hope to apply for Swiss dual citizenship someday, and I’m willing to butter up the bureaucrats as much as possible. (Yet I still drag my feet on learning French; there seems to be a permanent block in my brain regarding pronunciation.)
All of these statistics — which I quickly grabbed from Wikipedia — don’t capture the crown jewels of Switzerland — the mountains. The Swiss Alps alone constitute 60% of the country’s landscape, and this is before factoring in the Jura Range to the north. There’s a joke that if God took a giant clothing iron to the wrinkled landscape of Switzerland — which is seven times smaller than Colorado — and ironed it out, Flat Switzerland would cover most of Western Europe. This tiny country boasts 48 4,000-meter peaks (okay, Colorado has a few more), 1,063 square kilometers of glaciers (sadly, those are fading fast), and 65,000 kilometers of trails. That is nearly as much distance as the entire U.S. Interstate system (40,000 miles to 46,000 miles respectively.) How many years would I need to budget to explore even half of those trails? Sadly, many more years than I likely have left in this world.
I had the privilege of spending the first week of September in Switzerland, much of it in and around the village of St. Moritz. I have spent years begging Beat to join me on “normal” vacations that don’t involve a grueling race. He doesn’t relent often, but when he does, it’s to spend a week exploring the Swiss Alps. We had never before explored this region of Switzerland. The Engadin is located in the far southeastern corner of the country, bordered by Italy to the south, east, and west. St. Moritz is known to be one of the ritzier resort towns in Switzerland. That must be the case during the winter, as we found prices and crowds to be reasonable during the “off-season.” Early September brought the most recent of several brutal summer heat waves that scorched much of Europe. So it turned out to be the perfect week to spend at 5,900 feet altitude, which climate-wise is the equivalent of 10,000 feet in Colorado.
Our friend Pieter drove down from Belgium to join us for the first two days — really just the first 26 hours we were in town, as he had only secured one day off of work. We met him near a lake at 2 p.m. Sunday afternoon and immediately climbed 4,000 feet up a steep mountainside. Then we did it the next day for more than 5,000 feet over 14 miles. Elevation racks up quickly in the Alps, and I start to become greedy for more. I may shy away from brutal mountain races these days, but I make good use of easygoing relaxation travel. A day isn’t a great day unless I can bag a vertical mile, and I’m proud to say that I managed 30,090 feet of climbing in the six days we spent in St. Moritz.
The weather was clear (and hot!) all week. After Pieter left, I enjoyed the majority of my excursions solo while Beat “tapered” for the Tor des Geants. His restraint was admirable, really, as the weather was perfect and there were intriguing places to explore as far as the eye could see. But he did join me for one particularly memorable hike — the quintessential Swiss hiking experience that I’m presenting as my case for Why Switzerland Is, In Fact, Heaven:
On the lonely trails through the Stazerwald, we were greeted by the congenial bovine residents of the valley. Swiss cows are always so pretty. I don’t know how they do it. Another joke in Switzerland is that the reason the cheese is so delicious is because the cows are the happiest in the world.
As we rounded the village of Pontresina, we just happened by the garden where the makers of Ricola gather their famous herbs. Visitors are encouraged to taste the herbs or at least stick their faces in the garden to absorb the aroma. But my allergies were again bothering me something fierce, so I refrained.
After five miles, we started the gentle climb up Val Roseg, strolling through a lovely larch forest while a glacier-fed stream cascaded beside us. The climb was so gentle that Beat was blitzing the trail at a solid 4.5+ mph pace. My fastest uphill walk clocks in at about a 16-minute-mile pace before I need to start jogging to keep up, which I refused to do. Honestly, one thing that I can’t do if I hope to log day after day of strenuous 8+ -hour hikes is any sort of running. Beat teased me for being “slow,” telling me that I should have taken some rest days the way he did.
Despite the ease of the trail, we didn’t need to cover much distance before we were all alone in the big valley, drawing closer to the glaciated peaks of our dreams.
The approach wasn’t without its challenges, as evidence of the rapid changes wrought by climate change permeated the landscape. As glaciers melt, flooding becomes more frequent, erasing trails and sometimes eroding entire mountainsides. Still, it’s meaningful to witness these changes, to appreciate and be grateful for each moment, and to accept that nothing in this world is permanent.
We did enjoy the lakeside stroll beside Lej da Vadret, which formed in the 20th century due to the recession of the Roseg Glacier. It appears the ice no longer touches the lake, which is always a sobering milestone in a glacier’s retreat.
Then the climb commenced in earnest, 1,500 feet in a mile. We continued ascending along the moraine toward the glacier. The sun beat down with September heat that a few years ago would have been unthinkable in this location. Heat at altitude — I know it well in Colorado. The burning sun made me feel strangely at home.
We reached the end of the trail and Beat was eager to explore closer. I do not feel comfortable on newly formed glacier moraines (loose rock rains down with alarming frequency), but the ice was too enticing to pass up.
Ultimately the passage was fairly straightforward until we reached the foot of the glacier. The turquoise pool and haunting ice cave beckoned my overheated head and sweat-soaked body. But I knew even a quick dip would bring instant hypothermia. Instead, we settled on a rock to eat the lunch we carried all this way — Tête de Moine cheese in a gipfel (Swiss croissant.) Heaven.
We returned to sweeping views down the valley we had climbed. The mountain hut was closed for renovations, so our daily cake would have to wait.
We climbed some more, high above the valley, and dreamed about learning true mountaineering skills so we could ascend these peaks before the glaciers disappear.
We crossed many torrents as Beat continued at his breakneck pace. I finally fell behind because I was desperate for more drinking water, and it was silly to go thirsty when water was everywhere. I stood beneath a waterfall and filled my filter bottle several times, relishing in the clear, cold liquid — so clear it almost tasted sweet, and so cold it hurt my teeth.
Finally, I caught up with Beat at the Berghaus Fuorcla Surlej, where he had already acquired an apfelshorle and a nut torte for me. I’ll never tire of this side of Swiss infrastructure — that 18 miles into a big day, at more than 9,000 feet in altitude, I can just stop for cold drinks and cake on a patio with an incredible view.
From there it was down, down, down. I usually dislike descending, but the views eased the sting on tired joints.
We rounded the slope to return to the Inn River Valley, where dozens of windsurfers plied Lej da Silvaplauna. Could I ask for more perfection in a day? No. No I could not.
It does look and sound like heaven on earth. I can't wait to hike in Switzerland.
Ok. Fess up. The Switzerland Tourism Board paid you for this post, right? ;-) Sounds wonderful!