Camping on the Wilder Side

At the end of our WWOOF stint in Ormalingen, we had an entirely free week ahead of us before our next farm. Where to go? What to do? We decided to head to the canton of Graubunden in the far southeastern corner of Switzerland, a region we had not yet explored. We hopped on the train and after a few hours we were yet again immersed into a whole new world. The language of choice was now Romansch, Switzerland’s fourth and smallest official language. The Romansch language developed out of the Latin spoken by the Roman Empire when it held power in the area almost 2000 years ago. Today Romansch has only 50,000 speakers, spread over five different regional dialects. As our train rumbled into Graubunden, a unique style of architecture emerged as well. The buildings were painted with images of nature such as flowers, suns, and mountain creatures. Graubunden has a long history stretching back past Roman times, and its old feel seemed to linger in the isolated valleys.

As a hiking base camp, we chose to pitch our tent at a campground in the town of Zernez. When we first arrived, we started second-guessing our choice as we trudged through the active industrial warehouse park between the train station and the campground. Despite our initial reservations, however, it turned out to be a perfectly lovely and spotlessly clean place right on the rushing river. Plus, in the evenings we got to chat with friendly neighbors as we waited for our rice-and-bean dinners to simmer in the brand new guest kitchen. Since we have spent so much time with our WWOOF hosts, it was a fun change of pace to connect with fellow travelers.  

One of the main features that drew us to the region was the Swiss National Park. Yes, THE Swiss National Park, the only one in the whole country. Over the past couple months we had gotten accustomed to the inescapability of cow pastures and chalets on all of our hikes. Therefore, we were curious to see what nature really looks like in Switzerland. The National Park has been strictly protected for 103 years, so we figured it would be the closest representation of nature we could find.

The park turned out to be just as wild and beautiful as we had dreamed. We started off strong the first morning with plans to hike over a high pass called Fuorcla Val Dal Botsch (2677 m), in the heart of the National Park. We shared the trail with just a few other hikers, winding our way up a washed-out riverbed that had been scoured clean by raging flood waters two years ago. In contrast to the micromanagement of most of Switzerland’s landscape, it was intriguing to see rivers that had been left free to the ravages of floods and mudslides.

The other hikers gradually split off to head back down the valley and we continued alone up towards the pass. Earlier in the hike we had chatted with a Swiss man who has come to Graubunden on holiday for decades and has hiked almost all the trails in the region (we were a little bit jealous). His confidence in our ability to hike the pass took a big step up when we mentioned we had hiked the Schilthorn. He was sure right about it being steep, though. As we ascended the scree slope, the incline increased until the footprints in the loose gravel turned almost into stair steps. Huffing and puffing, we gained even more admiration for the athleticism of the distant gemsie herd that seemed to float effortlessly up and down the gravel slides. We pulled off our boots and lingered for an hour or two to observe them. As we chewed on our lunch, we watched the gemsies graze as well. It was hard to imagine they were finding any significant amount of vegetation among the rocks. But for how challenging their mountain habitat must be, they couldn’t ask for a more incredible place to call home. In writing the blog, it is getting hard to describe an endless series of spectacular mountain hikes without resorting to cheesy and pointless adjectives. Leave it to say: it was beautiful.

The next day we visited Morteratsch Glacier and got to see first- hand how incredibly fast climate change is taking its toll. The latest big swell of the glacier was in the “mini-Ice Age” of the late 1800s, when it reached almost to the town at the bottom of the valley. Today, we had to walk for 45 minutes up the valley even to get near the base of the glacier. Along the path are posts marking the glacier’s retreat as the years passed. We found the post near where Colby’s parents had visited in 1986, walked a long way to the post where their family had returned in 2003, and walked even farther toward the glacier today. When Colby visited as a child in 2003, he remembers being able to walk right up to it. Today the main body of the glacier has retreated steeply up into the mountains, so we couldn’t actually get face-to-face with it anymore. However, there was a fragment of the glacier holding on to the side of the valley, so here we were able to get up close to the bluish ice, tumbling rocks, and rushing meltwater. As in Iceland, it gave us the exhilarating feeling of being part of the constant transformation of the earth. But again, with regret about the circumstances.

2003

2017

For our third day, we decided to take it easy. We had the National Park trails largely to ourselves as we strolled down to a dam-formed lake of an otherworldly milky light blue color that made the sky look almost purplish in contrast. On the deserted shoreline we found an unexpected human artifact, a soccer ball that had washed in from somewhere. We took it home and donated it to the children’s play area at the campground, our only exception to the guideline of “take only photos, leave only footsteps.” It was a perfect day to slow down and immerse ourselves in the peace of the park. We listened to the water lapping on the lakeshore, took deep breaths of the spicy pine aroma in the air, and snoozed in a grassy meadow (well, Julia snoozed and Colby pulled out his laptop to work on designing the water system for our tiny house).

The next day we packed up and ventured onward to the town of Zermatt at the base of the Matterhorn. We were excited to see the iconic shape of the Matterhorn jutting into the sky, a classic Swiss scene. What we didn’t realize was that Zermatt is a very touristy town in the peak of summer season. To get to Zermatt, we had taken an 8-hour, 6-transfer train journey through the heart of the Alps, and although the scenery was spectacular it left us wiped out like any big travel day. Exacerbated by our tiredness, the noise and crowds of Zermatt grated on our nerves.

Without much research we had chosen a campground near the train station in Zermatt because is was described as a tent-only site in a car-free town… how charming! But to our dismay it was a thoroughly uninspiring patch of grass tucked between concrete buildings. Hoards of tourists milled past us on the street, and the mini-taxis that have replaced the cars buzzed around obnoxiously. We pitched our tent in disappointed silence. The whole town had kind of a depressing vibe. It disheartened us to see how many people travel across the world only to have surface-level “postcard” experiences and to shop in the many stores lining the streets. Seeing the typical tourist experience made us deeply appreciate the real connections we have made during our times WWOOFing and staying with Colby’s family. Anyway, adding to our low mood was the fact that all of the gas cans in the stores had the wrong attachment for our camp stove, so there was no way to cook our dinner options of pesto pasta or rice and lentils. We reached a culinary low point as we gave up the search and dug into a meal of cold beans straight out of the can.

At this low moment, a ray of sunshine broke through the dark clouds. As Julia was draining the liquid off her beans can into the sink, a young woman walked up and offered a pot of extra rice that she and her boyfriend couldn’t finish. Joy! So the sad meal turned into a complete protein and a fun conversation with the couple. They were recent college grads from New York who had spent the past two weeks trekking across the mountains from France, and were now spending a couple nights at the campground before heading home. It was a spirit-buoying bright spot to talk with them.

Finally laying down for sleep we encountered the next struggle. The mini-taxis vroomed around at all hours of the night. The loud voices of tourist groups walking by echoed into the wee hours, and at 5 am it sounded like someone was sawing a table in half. After this choppy night of sleep, we decided we couldn’t take it any longer. We woke up for good at 7 and packed up our gear in record-setting speed. We split town and headed 15 minutes on the train down the valley to try out a different campground. Our new home in Täsch was an RV campground right on the river, and it was a total relief. Quiet, friendly, peaceful…

After this rocky start in Zermatt, we still had a full day ahead of us to explore the Matterhorn. We took a cable car up to one of the high lakes below the peak. Around us was a real Alpine metropolis, a maze of cable cars and ski lifts crisscrossing the high mountains. As we looked up towards one of the highest cable car stations, located on a snowy peak jutting into the sky, we spotted the silhouettes of a handful of cranes poised for construction. Aah, only in Switzerland. They really have a thing for cranes and for engineering access to impressively harsh places.

For our hike we ascended up the steep ridge to Hornlihutte. This mountain hut is perched at 3260 meters above sea level (our highest hike in Switzerland!), where the rocky ridge line angles upward into the final ascent of the Matterhorn. For the mountaineers to continue onward, they need climbing gear. They usually get an early 3 am start from the hut in order to attain the summit before the clouds start building. Since we were there around 1 pm, it was fun to see climbers trickling back down the mountain to the hut. We sat down on the deck with the other hikers and climbers to eat a plate of rossli (a classic Swiss potato dish like hash browns) and to gape at the view. Around us was a world of 4000-meter peaks draped with glaciers and pristine snow. It was hardest of all to draw our eyes away from the Matterhorn, which constantly spun new clouds off its soaring peak, bringing them into being like magic.

Filled up with the majesty of the Matterhorn, the next morning it was time to begin the journey to our fourth and final WWOOF farm in Switzerland.