Parting

Our final ski trip while living in der Schweiz was to Flims-Laax Falera, in the Graubuenden region. That was March, this is October. Clearly you can see where I wish I was and what I wish I was doing as I sit here. I have done a lot of snow blogging. This one will be different. Just one story and just one photo for now. It is about The Longest Descent.

We ended our dwelling in Switzerland by spending a few days skiing, big surprise. One last hurrah before happily heading Back to Real Life. The snow had started to melt and the weather was warm. All very symbolic. We skied long and hard, wined, dined, walked, photographed and saunaed as much as we could before we had to give it all back, just as we had all season, at all the other places. Parting is such sweet sorrow.

On the last day, at lunch, I verbalized it. I had been thinking about it for a while, keeping it to myself. My poor husband was sick and tired and needed bedrest, but was putting up a good front and sticking it out in the snow for me, despite the fever. I knew he was nearing his end for the day. The thought of leaving, Leaving, was just too much for me to bear. So I verbalized it. I was going to ski one final run, which was The Longest Descent. I saw it on the map and it boasted a whopping 17 kilometers in length. And I would do it before I left, alone if need be, because I could.

It was getting late when I verbalized. We were on the gondola, one of several we needed to take to get from the far away Falera back to Flims where we were staying. He looked at me and shook his head in protest. We had already skied so much, it was getting late and dark, I was tired and shouldn't be skiing alone. What if I got lost? He didn't want to lose me, you know. What if I got hurt? It was too far to go to get to the top in time to get to the bottom in time. What if I didn't make it back in time to get the shuttle to the hotel? He would worry about me too much. The list of protests was long. But I could not be swayed. The prospect of skiing one run that was 17 kilometers was enough for me to make it one good last run.

The fact was, I had skied most of the sections that make up The Longest Descent over the course of the past few days, just not all at once. I needed to be able to say I did it. So at the top of the last gondola, I said I was going and would see him back at the hotel, probably in the sauna. But that wasn't good enough. He put up a fight. In the end, it was The Longest Descent in return for me handing over my camera. My precious camera? Nein!!!! It went with me everywhere in the mountains. It was always ready in my coat pocket. I was always stopping or wandering here and there to take photos, sometimes trailing behind. That was like taking away one glove or a ski boot. I would be incomplete without it. And how could I document The Longest Descent then?

But I did it. I gave it up, kissed him goodbye and was off. Basically, I had to make like a bunny clear across the area to get to the top to go back down. It involved going up a lift, then skiing down a portion to another lift that would cross, then repeating this process about 3 times in order to traverse to where I needed to be. I skied hard and fast and skated through the flat spots. I got to the point where I was alone, the only one around. It was so quiet and beautiful. Wish I had my camera.

Finally, I got off the last lift and skated as fast as I could to the final portion. I needed to take the J-bar to the very top of the 17 kilometers, then start The Longest Descent. I crested a small hill, saw the base of the J-bar in the near distance. It was downhill from there. I got into a tuck and cruised over. About 200 feet away, the J-bar stopped moving. Then up went a sign, that I barely even noticed in my rush to get there.

Geschlossen was what the sign read. The little bit of German that I had learned helped me to realize that the J-bar had just closed. What do you mean, Mr. Swiss Lift Man, Geschlossen? How can that be? It was 3:30. Most of the higher up lifts, gondolas and J-bars close at 3:30. NEIN!!!!!!!! My watch said 3:29. But there is no arguing with the Swiss about time or watches. Both of which they seem to have perfected. I was done.

I pouted, huffed, puffed and realized that I missed skiing, in its entirety, The Longest Descent by a matter of minutes. So I just did what I could and skied the rest. I guess I skied 16.5 kilometers all at once. I did it, I had already skied all day, and 2 days before that, and at least every weekend since New Year's. I had logged more ski days this season than I had any other before. I loved it. I was lucky. I had thigh burn, but it was worth it. After all, it was my last ski day in der Schweiz. It was all worth it. I sighed, breathed in the fresh air, unbuckled my helmet and got on the bus to go home, both literally and figuratively.

I look forward to next season, skiing, my friend.....

Threesome

My perfect threesome? That's simple - the Eiger, Jungfrau and Moench. Three glorious mountains in the Jungfrau region of Switzerland. Another weekend was spent last February skiing and enjoying all the Swiss Alps have to offer.

Grindelwald-Wengen, how do I love thee? With much passion and lust. I miss you. Your skiing is amazing. Your deep valley, dear Lauterbruennen, is beautiful beyond any others I have known. With so many choices, I felt as though I covered the globe on skis, toboggan or zipline when I was with you. You are so good at keeping things fresh and interesting. I love the tiny villages to ski through, the livestock and your architecture. Your people are warm and welcoming. Your lodging is top notch. And you really have perfected the trains. Never before have I had to cross railroad tracks to get to where I was headed to ski, on my skis. You have so much to offer, but selfishly, I wish I didn't have to share you with anyone else. So here are some, not all, of your secrets.

Scott hanging with the locals

May I live here?

This time, we stayed at the luxurious Sunstar Hotel in Wengen (http://www.sunstar.ch). We parked our car and took the train up to Wengen. At the stop, we were graciously fetched by the staff in a fun little electric cart, gear and all, and whisked away to the hotel. At check in, we were offered warm mulled wine which was a pleasant start to a fabulous stay, even though it was still before noon (scandalous!). Sunstar stays cost a bit more, but are worth it. The service and personal attention is incredible. I felt a little like a rock star. Each property is owned by a family, most of which live on site. They treat you as though you are their personal guests. No detail is overlooked.

the view from our room at the Sunstar

Soon we learned that the hotel ski room has heated boot racks, which pretty much guaranteed toasty dry boots in the morning. I LOVE this feature. We spent our early evenings at the pool or sauna or wandering around town. Dinner and breakfast at the hotel were not to be missed. Especially dessert buffet night. Do it, go nuts and don't feel guilty. You can ski it off the next day.

Getting to the slopes was cake. Just walk across the street and there you are at the gondola. Spend your day exploring the area. The conditions are fantastic and varied. And the place is so vast, that you feel like you are the only one there.

the train runs right through the slopes

gratuitous ski porn

followed by more gratuitous ski porn

truly a ski-in village

They Were Part of the Mountain Landscape

I went to Interlaken to look for my family. My ancestors that is, two of my father's grandparents were from Switzerland. My grandmother's parents. Yes, I know they are long deceased and physically looking for them will not help. But the search persists, regardless.

Just the fact that I took the car was Field Trip material enough. I don't drive here. Scott does. I bike and take public transportation, because the Swiss make it way too easy not to. At least around town anyway. I grabbed my camera, the GPS, forgot my scarf and headed out.

I have spent some time looking for info on my great grandparents online since I have been here. Some lovely family member of mine has done much of the work, so it was pretty easy to find the simple details, like who, when and how. The where part is the tricky part. The records from US Immigration are very clear. But the Swiss heritage part is not. I know that my great grandmother, GGM, came from Bern. Whether that is the Canton or the City, who knows. And I know that she lived in Interlaken and possibly Spiez. I only know this because of a 40 year old travel journal from my GM's trip to Switzerland. It says that a cousin took her to see the house her mother lived in in Interlaken. That is pretty clear. But, of course, there was no address or photo.

I know even less about my GGF. Could have been Bern, could have been Zurich, maybe both. Either way, we think that they were farmers and the family name originates in the Emmenthal region, so this all sounds right. But I know not their Heimatrecht. This is the needle in the proverbial haystack, that would potentially solve the mysteries. Or not.

As for all the random cousins mentioned in my GM's travel journal, I have no idea who they are. Yet. My days here are numbered, this time at least, so in the spirit of getting on with things, I just decided to stop looking for a needle in a haystack and just go on a Field Trip.

I have sort of done some shadowing in my GM's footsteps. I have seen some of what she visited, been some of the same places. But this particular route is where she spent a lot of time. We have been going skiing in the Bernese Oberland the last few weeks and the drive takes me past towns that sound familiar. They are mentioned in her journal.

A few weeks ago, after skiing, we stopped in Spiez. It was early evening and kind of cloudy. But I was able to snap a few photos of the town, lake and castle. Thanks Scott. I know you were tired and sore from a long weekend on the snow.

My trip to Interlaken was solo. I had time to really wander. I saw the Aare River, Interlaken Castle, churches and lots of mountains. It is a bit touristy, but still a charming town, nestled in a valley, between two lakes. I wandered up and down streets, in and out of shops, in and out of historic places. All the while I was taking photos and freezing because I forgot that scarf.

I realized after a bit that I was really looking for something, but didn't know what. Then it hit me. I was looking for them. Clearly GGF and GGM and all the random cousins, aunts, uncles and others that may still be alive were not going to walk up to me and say, "Hello. You finally made it. You belong to us. Let us fill in all the blanks for you." But I wished for that to happen, just like that.

As I was wandering, Seeing all the sights, I couldn't help but wonder. Was that the house GGM lived in? That farm looks nice and cozy and from the right time period. Maybe that was where GGF worked. Then I would notice names of businesses. Again, some were the same names that were mentioned in my GM's journal. It all gets kind of creepy, but in a good way. But at the same time, it was kind of lonely and a little sad that I don't get to know and See my GGM's house this time around.

Then I began to think about what I might have in common with these ancestors. I know nothing about them, other than their names. Do I look like them, do I have certain traits that they had? Who knows. But I did feel like I look like the people in this part of Switzerland. I saw men that look like my Dad, Santa with a tan face. I see old women that look like my GM. This I noticed the first time we went to this area. So maybe this is where they lived.

But why did they leave Switzerland? I guess I will never know that. I don't know if they lived on an Alp or down in town. I don't know if they had brown hair like me. But hopefully someday I will find some more genealogy answers and come to some conclusions. It would be pretty amazing to visit with living, distant family members here someday. Maybe I will speak better Deutsch by then.

No one jumped out and offered me my ancestry on a silver platter. So it was time to move on. Time to cross another thing off my Swiss List. I love lists. Scott says that is where my Swissness becomes evident. On to Thun, another small mountain and lake town.

GM had been to Thun, too. I was there to see an art exhibit. It was at Kunstmuseum Thun. The translation of the title of the exhibit is "Shifting Landscapes. Works from the Collection." http://www.kunstmuseum-thun.ch/index.php?id=335&L=1 It is sort of an homage to the disappearance of pristine, untouched mountain landscapes. Just like what my ancestors knew Switzerland to be, before infrastructure appeared. It was amazing. Each piece, really, had its own voice, told a different story. I had the place to myself, literally. So I lingered and looked and Saw all I could. My favorites were by Monika Ursina Jaeger and one piece called Matterhorn Project.

This stuff was right up a landscape architect's allee. Pun intended. Just the type of stuff that my eyes wander to, too regularly. The details that no one else notices, that I will spend hours photographing. But, despite the statement, I must admit that I think some infrastructure is beautiful, too. In a different way, it can be sexy.

When I was done with the exhibit, I thought about what to See next. Should I go look around Thun? Then I started getting that nagging feeling of needing to know something concrete about my ancestors again. I realized that what drew me to the Bernese Oberland in the first place, way back when we first arrived in Switzerland, was the mountains. Heck, that's what drew me to this art museum today. They are everywhere and I like that. In fact, it is as if the lake just laps right up on the mountain's feet here. My guess is that my ancestors didn't ski, but they spent lots of time in the mountains, either swimming, tending to the herd, making cheese, or picking crops. They were part of the mountain landscape. So maybe that is where I get my love of all things high and snowy. That would really explain a lot.

The Matterhorn and Scale

Ever since I was little, I have always wanted to See the Matterhorn. Sometime back in history, I created a mental Bucket List. And the Matterhorn is on it. But now I can check it off. In fact, there are several items on my Exit List and Bucket List that are the same, so I fully expect my time in the Land of Milk and Money to be fruitful and lived to the fullest.

Why the Matterhorn? Well, I cannot pinpoint the exact reason. It happened when I was a child and unfortunately, my memory fails me sometimes. I guess my head is too full of random useless facts to remember with detail all the "critical" memories sometimes. But I am creative. So whether this is accurate or whether I created it in my creative mind to make myself happy, who knows. But this is what I remember and I like it this way.

We had a video game system by Texas Instruments when I was a child. When everyone else was playing Pac-Man on Atari, I was mountain climbing on a game called Alpiner (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alpiner). Yup, my love of mountains started young. The goal of the game was to climb 6 of the world's highest peaks. The Matterhorn was number 5 on that list. That's OK, I was only 9 or 10. Hadn't quite reached overachiever status by that point in my life and I was playing against my Dad and older sister at the time, so it was what it was. In fact, I have no idea how far I actually got in that game. But something about the Matterhorn appealed to me and it has stuck in my head all this time.

My grandmother also lived with us at the time. Her parents both immigrated to the US from Switzerland. Do you see another Bucket List item here? She probably told me stories about her trip to Switzerland and saw that I was excited about the Matterhorn, simply from playing this game. And so my need to See the Matterhorn was born.

I am certain that none of this made any sense to me at the time. Can anyone really explain why we get so nicely fixated on the things that we do? But I believe that everything in life happens for a reason. That reason may not be clearly evident at the time, but it will be eventually. So here I am, just a girl living in Switzerland, with Swiss ancestry, standing in front of the Matterhorn, Seeing that which I have admired from afar, for unknown reasons as a child. Priceless!

It was also all about scale. It was big, in fact immense, but it felt like it was totally conquerable. Our Field Trip only allowed us a few days in Zermatt. Too much to See and too little time, as usual. On our last day, we were a little tired and had a few well-earned blisters. But the mountain air is exceptional in making one feel like they can accomplish just about anything. We went up the gondola at Schwarzsee Paradise and decided to do the short hike to the lake.

Scott and I discussed what time we needed to leave by, so we could get back to Basel at a decent hour and give him a little time to relax. He had to work the next day. So we get to the lake, take in the immense scenery and I start watching a few people heading higher up. They seem to be making good time. Again, it is all about the perceived scale.So I say to Scott, "Lets just go a little further, up to that bump there. I can get better pictures from there." He lovingly agrees and we proceed.

Next stop, more of the same on my part. First a bump, then a hut, then a ridge. After a few of these discussions about, "just a little farther, please?" finally we get to a really shaky metal staircase that looks like it is barely attached to the side of the rock face. You can see through it because it is made form metal grids. But I insist that I must go on. I made it this far, I wasn't turning back. So instead of walking, I ran so as to cover more ground in less time without making Scott worry too much. But on my way back, after resigning to the Matterhorn, he had followed me and was insistent that we head down. He is a very wise man.

Talk about Seeing. It was amazing. I stopped when I realized that the trail turned into what looked like a mountain goat path. At this point, some sort of mountaineering gear would have probably been recommended (unless you are Swiss of course - they do this stuff from infancy). But we were so close, it looked like we could just reach out to touch it. Or fall to our untimely deaths into the valley below.

Along the way, we kept passing pairs of young, strapping Euro men with climbing gear who were descending so quickly that it looked like they were running down the mountain. On our way back down, one passed us. I wanted to talk to him to find out if he had just summited. But me, who walks faster than anyone else I know on normal terrain, except my husband, couldn't catch him to chat. I am just going to blame that on the blisters on my feet and that he was in such a rush, he probably wasn't interested in chatting with silly Americans anyway.

When we made it down and were relaxing on the train back to Taesch, we looked at the map. Little did we know at the time, we had been on the path to Hoernli Hut, which is at an elevation of 10,696 feet. This is where the climbers go to spend the night, before they try to get to the summit, a base cap of sorts. We probably stopped and turned around at about 10,000 feet, with basically just the ridge left to go. We were so close, but had to think about heading back to Basel. If I had known how close, I would have insisted on getting there. My sense of scale failed me in this vast landscape. Hmmm. Perhaps another time.

All in all, this Field Trip rocked. As a landscape architect, I think I understand scale. But one really has no concept of it until you spend some time at that altitude in such a vast, gorgeous expanse of harsh terrain. Seeing the Matterhorn was priceless.