Family Reunites in Switzerland

As we took the familiar bus back to Marianne and Ewald’s house in Winterthur, it felt like we were going home. After an active month of WWOOFing, we were happy to circle back to the place where we had first started our time in Switzerland.

We arrived just as Marianne was putting some of her delectable cheesy garlic bread into the oven. After a refreshing splash in the pool, the four of us sat down outside with a platter of fresh bruschetta toppings to put on the toast. As we caught up on each others’ lives and reflected on our experiences so far, we were struck again by what a gift it is to be embraced by such caring people.

In the evening we pitched our tent in the yard, because it was going to be a full house! Over the next two days, the rest of Colby’s family reunion arrived from the United States to join the party. The guest of honor was Colby’s 91-year-old grandfather Hans, who emigrated to the United States from Switzerland as a young man.  The rest of the group included two of Colby’s aunts, six of the cousins, and three of their significant others.

Traveling together in a pack gave a fun and different energy to our sightseeing. We revisited some of our old haunts in Winterthur, this time with the fresh eyes of a big group that had just arrived in the country. All together we strolled up to the Goldenberg overlook and gazed out across the city, again marveling at Switzerland's fondness for using cranes for almost any construction project. We meandered through the old town and checked out the shops, where everyone loaded up on Swiss Army Knives to bring home as gifts. We had a raclette dinner together,  where a number of Colby’s United States family got to try this Swiss specialty for the first time. Back in the familiar comfort of Winterthur, it was a great time to lean back in a lawn chair, enjoy the flowers, and take a deep breath.

After a couple days in Winterthur, we headed on to the chalet in Murren. We had heard so much about the glories of Murren, we were eager to see it for ourselves. En route, we stopped in Bern where Marianne’s sister and her husband welcomed us into their spectacular garden and we all got creative assembling pizzas to slide into their outdoor wood-fired oven. By evening, we had arrived in Murren via several train transfers followed by a cable car and finally a mountain train.

Whenever we arrive in a new place, we like to take a small hike around the area to get oriented. So, as the evening shadows slowly crawled up the mountain faces across the valley, we set out for a hike with Colby’s aunt Laurie. Slowing down into the rhythm of our feet and taking time to gaze around, the awesomeness of our surroundings really began to sink in. Jutting into the sky directly across from us were the massive peaks of the Eiger, Monch, and Jungfrau, looming in their majesty. Waterfalls cascaded down the lower cliffs like strands of hair, an endless series of thin silvery threads dropping hundreds of feet at a time. As our eyes traveled upward from the rich valley forests up the rocky mountain cliffs, the tenacious trees and grasses slowly petered out. As the altitude increases, the thin film of life is slowly stripped back until only the bare eternal essentials of rock and snow and ice remain, pure and untouchable in the sky. As we gazed at the mountains, we felt that soaring swell of emotion that pulls you beyond yourself and swirls you into the depth and height and breadth of things.  

On our first full day in Murren, Colby joined most of the family for the adventure of flying (well, paragliding actually). It was especially memorable to catch the thermals and rise upward for a while, rather than just a constant gradual downward drift. Colby spent the rest of his day at the fox den we had discovered on our hike the night before. His inner photographer was happy to spend hours waiting around for the three pups to pose.

Meanwhile Julia and Laurie passed on the paragliding and instead spent the day hiking up into the wilder reaches of the valley. Walking through the hillsides lush with wildflowers brought to mind a poem written by Rilke, the poet whose grave we had stumbled upon during our hike in Valais:

See the flowers, so faithful to Earth.
We know their fate because we share it.
Were they to grieve for their wilting,
that grief would be ours to feel.

There's a lightness in things. Only we move forever burdened,
pressing ourselves into everything, obsessed by weight.
How strange and devouring our ways must seem
to those for whom life is enough.

If you could enter their dreaming and dream with them deeply,
you would come back different to a different day,
moving so easily from that common depth.

Or maybe just stay there: they would bloom and welcome you,
all those brothers and sisters tossing in the meadows,
and you would be one of them.

By Rainer Maria von Rilke

Sonnets to Orpheus II, 14.
Translated by Joanna Macy

Julia’s hike was also rich with wildlife. We watched an unidentified large tawny eagle or hawk soaring in the sky, its graceful and athletic body perfectly suited to its livelihood. We spotted marmots and listened to their alarm calls when the birds of prey got too close. And as we looked up at the craggy mountainside, we thought we saw more birds soaring, but wait - they were running! It was a faraway pair of ibexes, gliding up the incredibly steep and rocky slopes so smoothly that we had mistaken them for flying creatures.

Later on, we also came across some intriguing congregations of butterflies on the paths. We assumed they were mating gatherings, but were puzzled by the fact that they were made up of at least six totally different types of butterflies that looked like they could all be different species. The mystery remains. Sitting down for a while to observe the butterfly congregation, we reflected on the wildly different scales in which nature manifests itself. The same spirit that ripples in the ephemeral shimmer of the butterflies also lodges itself deep in the rocky staying-power of the mountains.

Once we were almost home, we spotted our final wild creatures of the day -- chamois (local name: gemsies). They are wild grazing animals somewhat like goats that scramble easily up rocky slopes. While ibex live higher up and are more endangered, chamois are more ubiquitous and well-adapted to humans. Down at the edge of a pasture, we spotted a group of five chamois engaging in some interesting and tense social dynamics possibly surrounding mating or territory. There is something magical and timeless about watching wild animals. It's enthralling to contemplate both the unbounded freedom and the brutal uncertainty of their lives.

The next day was the big group hike up the Schilthorn. We set off on this adventure as a group of 10 -- nine 20-somethings, plus epic aunt Laurie who is more than twice as old. As we all tromped up the first hill out of Murren, our morning burst of energy was sapped depressingly quickly. Murren is at 1600 meters above sea level, and the Schilthorn is a hair below 3000 meters. We tried not to think too much about the 1400 meters (4500 feet) of elevation gain that lay ahead. Stopping frequently to gasp for breath, we went up and up and up and up… But although we were physically tired, we were invigorated by the astonishing grandeur of our surroundings as well as the goal of all making it to the top. It was fun to get into the groove together and encourage each other as we ascended into the sky. At the final saddle before the big push to the top, we gazed up at the mountain and it looked intimidatingly snowy and steep. Was the trail even open? But we plowed ahead. It turned out to be quite an adventure that bordered on the edge of our comfort zone. We payed single-minded attention to our footing as we crossed snow fields, scrambled up slopes of loose shale, pulled ourselves up with cables, and kept our balance along some moderately terrifying drop offs. Six hours after we began the hike, all 10 of us made it to the top, our bodies coursing with varying levels of adrenaline. What a thrilling and beautiful journey!  

As with many mountains in Switzerland, there is a cable car that goes to the top of the Schilthorn. It was the weirdest contrast to emerge from this epic adventure right into a posh gift shop, a revolving restaurant, and an overlook deck full of mostly Asian tourists. A James Bond film had been shot at the Schilthorn, so every aspect of the place was played up with that theme, all the way down to the recorded voice loops talking to you in the bathroom stalls. At the end of such a wild hike, this kind of place would usually be irritating, but it was just so bizarre that it was pretty amusing. And unbeknownst to us, it just happened to be the 50th anniversary of the movie to the day, so there was extra hubub.

Five members of our group had understandably had their fill of hiking and decided to take the cable car back down to Murren. They were able to slide in without paying the $50 each by blending in with the James Bond anniversary party people. The other five of us (including Laurie, of course) decided to hike back. It wasn’t nearly as intimidating now that we knew the route and the places to be most careful. It was fun to peer down into the sweeping green valleys with little streams threading through them like veins. We also got to see some more chamois - this time, it was a herd of more than 15 grazing in the rocky slopes. We slept very well that night, filled with all the impressions of our unforgettable day.

Although we would have enjoyed more time in Murren, it was time to move on to our next WWOOF farm, a vineyard and winery in northern Switzerland. It had been fun to connect with the energy of the large family group, and it was nice to get at least a token amount of down time. Next, it was onward to Ormalingen!

Above 2003, Below 2017