Switzerland is a wonderful country. Situated in the Alps where the Germanic & the Romantic cultures meet, it is like 4 countries in one, all unified by an alpine sensibility. With so much variety of cultures offered in one stunning setting, Switzerland makes an easy, if pricey, vacation destination for the explorer.
My brother’s brother-in-law (I don’t know if there is a term for that… BBIL) and I decided to have a Swiss Family(?) adventure of our own incorporating the German, French, & Italian parts of the country. (Sorry Romansch, maybe next time). We traveled by train everywhere. Easily traveling on Swiss railways make me wonder why America can’t have such a system. Anyway, eating & drinking our way… I mean touring our way… through the various regions of the country we both wanted to experience the ALPS. I’ve hiked in the Alps before but I wanted to see a glacier up close, just an endless expanse of white. Normally such a sight is death to me as I despise winter. But experiencing snow and ice as far as the eye can see for a summer day trip was on my bucket list. In essence the Jungfraujoch was beckoning.
Basing ourselves in Unterseen, a historic suburb of bustling touristy Interlaken, we took a couple of trains to a small Alpine village where we boarded the Jungfrau Railway which took us literally THROUGH the mountains up to the highest railway station in Europe: Jungfraujoch, also known as the “Top of Europe”. Once off the train there are many different activities to do, but we wanted to hike the glacier. Back in Interlaken I was assured by the tourist office that special footwear would be available to rent for the hike. Neither one of us are mountaineers so we did not have glacier walking shoes coming from flat beachy Long Island. I was told sandals and shoes were not acceptable but hikers and sturdy sneakers would be fine. Well that was an unfortunate bit of misinformation. When we asked where to get gear for the glacier walk we were given directions to a store to buy hats, gloves, scarves, brandy, but no footwear. We briefly debated if we should pursue it or maybe just do the amusements that were around, but after seeing the lines and the crowds of children, we decided to do what we came to do. We should have however, debated how much of that brandy to purchase, as we would soon need it.
Once we stepped on to the glacier trail our confidence soared as the snow pack provided some traction. It seemed I had better traction in hikers but my BBIL’s sneakers held up. It was a 1 kilometer trek up a steady incline to a flagpole marker, where amazing views of the glaciated Jungfrau Valley could be had. There was a colored rope connected to poles that guided us on the trail. One thing neither one of us realized was how difficult it was to exert ourselves in the very high altitude. 1 kilometer with a moderate grade didn’t sound difficult, but with the wrong footwear, and not being used to the conditions, it was. We could not even blame the weather as it was perfectly sunny, relatively warm (at least considering it looked like we were at the North Pole) and little wind. Eventually we had to admit that we were not built for this and had to take a break every 10 minutes. By the time we got to the flagpole we were feeling pretty good and the view was nothing short of spectacular! I had never seen such unending pristine whiteness.
Although many turned back at that point, we noticed some people forging ahead. We were informed of a comfort hut that served beer and food 1 more kilometer away. Lunch & drinks on the top of a mountain with even higher views sounded like an opportunity too good to pass up. We decided to join the brave hardy few that continued on, feeling like the hardened explorers we wanted to be, forgetting that many hardened explorers died tragically on their journeys. Not a good time to forget about history!
The ascent became increasingly steep, which we could not determine from the flagpole. That’s what happens when white contrasts with white. We were getting very tired and the path seemed to get more and more slippery. The further we went I suppose the colder it was and also the less worn the path. By the time we saw the hut I was a sweaty mess. Yes, in an arctic wonderland without winter clothes, I looked like I was in a steam bath. I even created my own personal cloud around my head. (It’s true, it’s an outdoor winter parlor trick of mine, really sexy). With beer and food so close at hand we made the final ascent. The path narrowed as we were now on a ledge. How steep and high that ledge was was not apparent at first since it sharply curved left. However it became very steep and narrow, so steep that our now woefully inadequate footwear could not grip the ground. The snowpack had become slick ice, which menacingly slanted toward the ledge, with only a sad little rope tied between flimsy poles preventing us from falling 100 feet into the valley below. Ahead of me were people with spiked glacier shoes and ski poles barely making it up, but kind of annoyingly enjoying the adventure. I don’t know if my BBIL was screaming because all I could hear were my x-rated gasps in between a rapid succession of Hail Marys. Every time I would make progress I would inevitably slip and slide downward toward my doom, only to grasp something to stop the slide. We both thought about abandoning the effort but it was too late, turning around seemed worse. At least if we made it to the hut we could have one last proper meal before we died. When I finally got to the hut someone put out a pole for me to grab to take the one last step on to the porch ledge. Somehow we made it, but why were we the only morons who seemed to realize the deadly gravity of the situation (pun intended)?
Once in the cabin I went about looking for a beer, I needed it! My heart was racing. I explored the hut and noticed a large place for people to store their very spiky footwear. Moreover it was pretty full. I guess we hadn’t noticed that most of the people who went this far were wearing those. Perhaps a sign or something advising us idiot tourists that they would prevent certain death would have been useful. After exploring the place and looking out every window admiring the view I decided to get some food and more beer. When I caught up with my friend he was still visibly shaken. I told him to have lunch and a drink, he thought I was insane. How could I eat or drink knowing our descent out of the cabin would surely kill us? He truly believed his life was over. This was a strange role reversal as he was always upbeat and I was the one scared to try risky activities. Yet I was somehow quite calm, annoyingly so to him. I just kept thinking that we hadn’t heard of someone dying here so I was not about to be the first. (Maybe the second after my friend, but I didn’t go there!) I kept looking out the windows trying hard to find a safe way out. The hut was perched on an icy cliff so the options were few. Maybe we could steal footwear, but then our victims’ deaths would’ve weighed on our consciences. We are too damn nice! Standing on the porch I had an undignified idea. But dignity is only for the living right?, which we wouldn’t be, so I found my partner and we had another beer to discuss the plan. Alcohol fosters creativity so don’t judge!
As we sat with our beers I told my frightened friend of an observation I made. While the trail down was absolutely fatal without proper footwear, maybe we don’t use our feet. What’s more I noticed that at the far end of the porch ledge the ice, which slanted toward the edge of the cliff on the trail, actually slanted into the rock there. Perhaps, if we carefully walk out to the far edge of the porch and sit down on the ice, we can lean into the rock wall and scoot ourselves down on our behinds. Yes it would be cold and we would have to watch our speed around the sharp curve but it seemed plausible. He actually was excited by the still risky plan and turning that blind curve worried us both, but our self-made rumours of our demise might actually not happen! We stepped out on to the far part of the ledge. We seemed to have a few spectators. Maybe they overheard us not wanting to die and wanted to see a gruesome show. As it was my idea I elected he go first of course. Actually he wanted to get out of there. So he parked his butt down on the ice and off he went. Now it was my turn. I carefully pushed myself down the icy slope, leaning away from the edge as much as I could. Oh my God it was working! I started picking up speed before the blind curve and tried to brake somehow, but it wasn’t happening. This was it I feared! Stupid creative beer idea. Thankfully the blind curve slanted even more so away from the trail. Now this was getting fun. I started hearing this unbridled laughter, was that coming from me?! Then I heard the sound of a woman laughing, then more laughter. When I got to the bottom I quickly got up so as to not get kicked in the back from whomever was behind me. Following us was one of our spectators, and then another. When we all made it down we felt invincible. So happy to be alive! It turns out the 2 people behind us were a British couple who also were told that no special footwear was needed. They were already in the hut and observed our harrowing arrival. She said she was hoping one of us would figure out a way down, and when she saw us survive the blind curve they went for it.
Maybe it was the adrenaline but the return 1.5 kilometer trek was easy. We were on a descending grade but we were also pumped! The glacier looked even more amazing now. I carved my initials in the snow as a kind of testimony to my survival. I took pictures with a snowman. We kind of skated down making the most of our inadequate footwear. Now they were good for something. We were wet, chilled and couldn’t be happier. I guess this is what adrenaline junkies live for. Been there, done that, I’m good. Eating and drinking local cuisine that I never heard of is enough travel adventure for me… preferably somewhere warm & dry!
