Vercorin

The timing of my traveling period was perfect: the unpleasant transition between winter and spring is over. I am sitting by the open window, finally wearing a t-shirt and no socks. I had forgotten how good wind and sun feel on the skin.

On Friday morning I was awaken early by the sun peeking into my room through the east window. The calling, screeching, screaming swallows made sure I was not going to go back to sleep. Sipping my orange juice by the big living room window I marveled at their flashing white bellies, lit up by the still low sun in a perfectly blue sky. It was going to be another exciting day, as I would travel around Switzerland to spend the weekend in the Alps of south western Switzerland, in the Valais, roughly between the Matterhorn and Mont Blanc. My friends Christiane and Gilbert invited me to spend the weekend with them in Vercorin, a village suspended between the Rhone Valley and the sky, on a knob at the entrance of one of the valleys leading south, deep into the mountains at the border between Switzerland and Italy.

Train #1: Zuoz - Sagliains
Train #2: Sagliains - Landquart
Train #3: Landquart - Zurich
Train #4: Zurich - Bern
Train #5: Bern - Visp
Train # 6: Visp - Sierre
.. and the most colorful part of the trip: bus from Sierre to Vercorin, 40 minutes of switchbacks, sections of the road carved into the cliff, most of the time so narrow that the cars coming down had to stop or even back-up to let the postal bus through.

I arrived late afternoon but my friends were not going to get in until late. So, following Christiane's directions, I found my way to their place, walking some 20 minutes uphill, first through the picturesque village, then through the fields. Vercorin is at a lower elevation than Zuoz and spring was clearly further along. The wind was singing in the pine trees and crickets were calling out the first day of summer weather. Since I was ahead of the weekend crowd, the village was very quiet and not one car passed me on the road.

I met Christiane and Gilbert in the mid-70s in Geneva. Christiane and I already shared many memories, including mountaineering, a skiing vacation in Andermatt, and 3 weeks in Greece in 1975. In the 80s they moved to the Neuchatel area, which allowed me to easily stay in touch. Christiane teaches biology at my former high-school, Gilbert was my Dad's doc when he was hospitalized in 2002. Despite the proximity, our visits were always too short, a couple of hours or an evening stolen away from Dad, with the corresponding feelings of guilt. Now all the parents have passed away, the children are on their own, and therefore we again have time to share, time not only to tell each other about our respective lives, but also to discover how we have changed, or not, over the last 35 years. It was such a delight to find out that we still approach a day, and life in general, in much the same way. Gilbert played Faure's Requiem, Christiane with much patience pointed out the many architectural details of the chalets and church of Vercorin. We relaxed, hiked, and of course, ate well and sampled the many excellent local wines.

As I mentioned above, we also built new common memories, and the one that will stand out is Saturday's hike. The start was deceptively easy and relaxed. The plan was to make it to high elevation (Tignousa, above St. Luc) with a cable car. Except that it goes only once an hour and we just missed the noon one. So we walked back into the center of St. Luc, for "l'apero", i.e. a drink (and I don't mean water) before catching the 1pm cable car. The arrival was a high meadow. We were greeted by a marmot and happy wildflowers peppering the slope. The temperature was perfect - it was going to be a gorgeous hike to Chandolin, about one hour. How come we didn't notice that we were sliding into an unpleasant situation? It happened gradually, and by the time we realized we were in trouble we already couldn't make up our minds on whether we should back-track or forge ahead. This is how our hike to Chandolin took 2 hours, of which 90 minutes of traipsing through the snow, mostly up to the tops of our thighs, sometimes to our waists. This, of course, on a slope, often quite steep. The redeeming factors were the knowledge that we had many hours before nightfall, the weather was stable and therefore despite wet and cold feet and legs, hypothermia was not going to be an issue, and, or course, we had plenty of food. The modus operandi was extreme caution because a twisted ankle or knee would have been disastrous. Thank God, we all had our hiking sticks, we all were experienced hikers and we never lost sight of the trail because, very once in a while, between 2 snow fields, we could see a few feet of trail. My bad knee behaved itself and despite my fears, was none the worse the next day. However, the muscles of my good leg, which did the brunt of the work in the snow, hurt so much that on Sunday walking was really painful - which didn't prevent us from going on another hike, but at a cautious lower elevation.

So, here I am, staring out my big window, at the mountain across the valley, trying to gauge how low the snow still is in the woods. Perhaps it's time to get my bike out, and stick to the valley bottom biking trails for a few days. I am not eager to do more stomping around in the snow, although I am afraid I'll run into more snow than hoped for well into the summer.

I am now home for a month. The good weather will also bring back friends to Zuoz. By the way, thank you, Christiane and Gilbert for an absolutely delightful time in your gracious and fun company, in your gorgeous mountains. And thank you, Brigitte, for a quiet evening in Villars on my way back to Zuoz. It was so much more pleasant to travel back this morning in the empty and quiet trains rather than last night's crowds.

Pictures:
1. Anemone printaniere (Pulsatilla vernalis)
2. Village of Grimentz
3. The mountain in the center is the Matterhorn