The Events of Friday, July 22, 2011

            As our car curved through the Swiss Alps, I checked my watch one more time just to make sure my calculations this morning were correct. Today was July 22, so only six more days until we go home! Yay! Looking out the window of our dear Renault minivan, that has carried us throughout Europe, I caught sight of misty waterfalls and the mysterious peaks covered in clouds. We quickly arrived at Stechelberg, located at the foot of these peaks. There we parked and walked to the cable car station, what we Americans would call a gondola station. Soon we were floating high above the valley, passing waterfalls, and even a skinny rope bridge, crossing from one precipice to another.

            Once we arrived, we stepped out into the isolated mountain village of Gimmelwald. Gimmelwald is a pedestrian-only town of about 120 residents, most of whom are related to one another. When developers wanted to turn it into a resort town, villagers protested by getting Gimmelwald declared an avalanche- zone. So the town remains small, car-free, and relatively un-touristy. Besides a hiking path, the only way to access Gimmelwald is the cable car. Gimmelwald is a hiker’s haven given its convenient access to many hiking trails. Since the weather was predicted to turn rainy in the afternoon, we decided to hike in the morning, and explore the small town of Gimmelwald in the afternoon.

            We walked through town to the other side. Given that Gimmelwald only has one zig-zag street this did not take long. Soon we headed down a path that led through the Sefinen Valley, along a river, and ended at a dramatic bowl of glacier fields, known as Kilchbalm in German. Our guidebook said that the path took two hours and was very easy. We found out that this was not necessarily the case as we went along the trail. We went down for a bit, and then scrambled up a couple of steep slopes, then walked through a forest, going up and down all the way. Since we were so sore from hiking yesterday and Wednesday, this was especially painful. In terms of scenery though, the trail was ideal. Colorful wildflowers grew up on both sides of the path. Daisies, buttercups, and the Swiss version of Queen’s Lace, along with other beautiful flowers, fought for space.

            Stopping for a little snack, we climbed down to the river a wee bit, where there were dry rocks on which we could sit. A beautiful surprise awaited us there – a large patch of small bright yellow flowers, shining up at the sky. Marveling at this beauty, we ate a couple of nuts and raisins, and then walked on. We soon crossed the river on a very skinny bridge that offered no obstacle on either side to keep someone from falling in. On either side of the bridge, though, was a stunning view. On one side, the Eiger, Monch, and Jungfrau loomed in the distance. At least that is what we were told. Mostly we saw peaks disappearing in the clouds and occasionally peeking out as the winds shifted. On the other side, was the river gorge leading to the glacier field, our final destination. On the way to the glacier field, we ran into a couple of muddy spots. One of these spots completely blocked the path. Ben, leading the way, went what turned out to be the worst way, and ended up with guck all around his shoes. I climbed down towards the river, skirted around the muddy spot, and came up with only a few blemishes.

            All along the trail, waterfalls cascaded from above. Sometimes a trickle of water crossed our path and sometimes it was a flood. One waterfall thundered down on one side of the path and fell twenty feet on the other side. We stopped briefly on a little bridge over this waterfall to marvel at the artistic ways the water had carved the rocks. A variety of bowls and curved walls surrounded the flowing water. One rock face was worn down to its grain. It looked shiny and polished, the white veins shining through the sleek black rock.

            At last we reached the end of our hike, a spectacular bowl of glacier fields. We actually counted about nine waterfalls coming down from the glacier, flowing into the icy cold river that felt so good when splashed on hands and faces. Finding a relatively shady spot, we sat down and ate lunch. This was by far the most picturesque lunch spot of our entire trip. Surrounded by mountains and waterfalls, wild flowers and a gushing stream, butterflies and bees, it was simply beautiful. After lunch, Lindsey dipped her feet in the icy cold water. Now we have another river to add to our “Waters We’ve Waded” blog.  Soon we were on our way back, swirling through the forest. The return trip was much faster. Cooled by a nice breeze and the occasional drizzle, we retraced our steps seeing new marvels we had missed. All too soon we were back in Gimmelwald and went back to the gondola station to begin our Gimmelwald town walk.

            Our first stop was a shelter on stilts made to store cheese while the cheese is aging. The stilts kept out mice. To understand this, and all of the walking tour, though, one must know a bit about the Swiss cow culture. Traditional Swiss cow farmers could not survive without government subsidies. The farmers in Gimmelwald usually own only about 15 – 20 cows. In the summer, the cows are taken up to pasture, and kept there for three months. There is always a special ceremony when the cows are taken to and from their high pastures. Dressed in traditional dress, the farmer and his family, strap huge decorative cowbells, weighing upward of 10 pounds, on their cows and parade them through town.

            When in the high pastures, hired hands milk the cows every day, and make this milk into cheese, since the milk is hard to transport down the mountain in liquid form. The summer stables high in the Alps are actually called “alps”. The ceremonial cow bells are hung on the eves of these alps during the summer. Meanwhile, the farmers, not having to care for their cows anymore, spend the summer harvesting hay to feed the cows in winter. When summer is over, the cows are brought down from the high pastures back home where they enjoy this hay all winter long.

            Walking along the “main street”, we came to the “center of town”. An intersection of three small streets is surrounded by three buildings. The most important of these is the post office, an old-fashioned wooden building with the inscription (of course, in German), “Summer brings green, winter brings snow. The sun greets the day, the stars greet the night. This house will keep you warm. May God give us his blessings.” This sort of folk blessing is common. We wandered a bit more through Gimmelwald, passing wooden houses, cow pastures, cheese sheds, and water fountains flowing into troughs. The last stop was the fire station. Since the whole town is made of wood, the volunteer fire fighters are important. Gimmelwald has never had a terrible fire in its history, unlike most other mountain towns.

            Our walk finished, we strolled back to the gondola station, stretching our sore muscles along the way. While waiting for the gondola, we played on a playground with a really long slide, swings, and a strange rope hanging from a bar. Not knowing quite what to do with this, I grabbed the bottom of the rope, and swung myself down the hill, letting my feet slide over the wet grass. This looked pretty dangerous, but it was actually really fun. As long as I held on to the rope, I would not fall, even though my back was close to the ground.

            Soon the gondola came and we rode it back down to our car. Everyone in the gondola gasped as we left the alpine shelf of Gimmelwald and seemed to plummet down to the valley floor below. Stretched out below us was a glorious sight. The houses and cars looked like toys. Snaking through the valley was a clear, blue rushing river. We knew that river. We had hiked to where it began, fed by the glaciers of Kilchbalm.

            On the way home, we stopped for groceries. One of the items my parents bought surprised me – pizza! Switzerland is very expensive. I thought we had decided that for the last week of our trip, we would eat pasta, and only pasta. That’s okay, because I love pasta. It’s sort of fun to try to make it interesting – mushrooms, garlic, bratwursts chopped up thinly. So when they bought pizza I was confused. However, once the delicious smell of the pizza reached me, I was happy for the change. Yet Lindsey still insists we will not eat pasta for a month after we get back. She’s sick of it. I happily said in response to her complaints, “Only six days more!” Once we headed to bed, I stayed awake, thinking about the now five days left before we go home.