My first week or so in Switzerland was spent checking things like the Jungfraujoch off my list and going on hikes every single day. The two best ones would have to be the one hiking up the mountain from Kandersteg to Oeschinenschee - a stunning little lake nestled in the mountains - and the hike to Bachalpsee Lake:
There are simply no words for how happy scenery like that made me. Beautiful rolling hills in every direction, stupendous peaks so close I could just about reach out and touch them, and a myriad of colourful flowers adding splashes of colour to every surface with a drop of water.
It was magnificent. All of it.
My next stop was to be the Mountain Hostel in Gimmelwald. As you may have noticed, I generally steer clear of naming the names of establishments. Most of the time, they're adequate, but nothing special and may as well remain anonymous. Not so with the Mountain Hostel. First, let's talk about Gimmelwald. It's a tiny little farming community perched on the ledges of the Alps. The only way to get in or out is via a cable cars. The only store has no staff. They open it every morning, and trust people to pay the prices and not rob the place. And it works. The hostel itself was a breath of fresh air. To be honest, I've grown disillusioned with hostels: Generally speaking, they're filled with people who stick to themselves and tap away on laptops, tablets and mobile phones wherever there's WiFi, like a bunch of moths around a flickering light.
Not so with the Mountain Hostel. Yes, there was WiFi. But...the atmosphere was different. People...talked. I know, this shouldn't be a big deal. But it is. Not only did they talk, they shared stories. They told jokes. They listened to music. They cooked massive batches of food, which they then shared with others. They went on hikes together and invited perfect strangers like me to join them. They played cards. It was magnificent. I was only there for three nights, but it felt like a month-long hug from humanity. There was a mother with a shy daughter of 30, who was starting to come out of her shell. There was the 40-something American couple who were always eager to have a conversation over coffee. There were the three guys from Ireland who would not go 10 seconds without cracking a joke or five. There were the three guys from America who ran through the mountains for fun. This place was full of people with all sorts of awesome personalities. No one was drunk, no one was stupid, no one acted like he or she was better than anyone else. It was simply a chill place to relax among some of the most magnificent scenery this planet has. Easily the best atmosphere I've ever experienced in a hostel. There were only two flies in the ointment: 1: Pay showers. Come on, Mountain Hostel! and 2: Horrible weather.
I was there for three days and for three days, every single day, I'd get up, have breakfast with people who told me that they checked the weather and it would go thusly: Showers giving way to clouds by mid-day with brilliant sunshine beginning in the early afternoon. Each day, I packed my bag full of camera gear and food and set off into the mountains. And, inevitably, each day I would come back 6-8 hours later, soaked to the bones. Not only did the weather not get better as the day wore on, it got worse. Every. Single. Day. Morning showers would put their big boy pants on and turn into torrential downpours, often sprinkled with liberal amounts of thunder and lightning.
Photo break: What were supposed to be stunning mountains overlooking pristine valleys turned into...clouds. And more clouds. On top of clouds. Overlooking clouds.
Now, I love thunder and lightning. But being alone, roughly 3,500-4,000 metres up on a plateau after 4 hours of hiking in the rain, and getting stuck in a lightning storm ain't all that fun. I may not be the tallest dude around, but when I'm the ONLY dude around and the next tallest thing is a knee-high shrub, then I start thinking "Hey...maybe it's time I got off this damn mountain!"
Each day, the trails I traversed up the mountain turned into rivers on my way down, my shoes being replaced by small rubber lakes. I would return to the hostel, where people - who were smart enough to never leave the comforts of 4 solid walls and a roof - sat around tables lined with hot drinks and gave me "I'm sorry, man" looks. I peeled the soaking wet layers off me, and hoped for a better tomorrow.
Predictably, as soon as I left, the weather did a 180, and rewarded the people I left behind with perfect, endless sunshine; effectively giving me the cosmic middle finger. Thankfully, my last night there was a beautiful, clear night, where I randomly (quite by chance) caught the International Space Station pass overhead. It was about as good as it gets.
Also, since this post is rather light on pictures (don't worry...LOTS of pics coming in Part Three), here's a random one. I have NO idea what it's about, but I think it's something about legalizing a certain type of sausage in Switzerland. It seemed to be a massive issue, with smaller posters like this littering gas stations, while massive posters adorned the walls of train stations, tunnels and other establishments:
That's it for today...tune in next time for even more pictures and stories from Switzerland and one of my all-time favourite tiny countries: Liechtenstein!!
Thanks for reading,
T
