Zermatt, An Engaging Town

One of the most fantastic places on earth lies near the Swiss border with Italy and France. Zermatt is the last stop on a long train ride. The crisp snap of clear fall weather greeted us, and the delicate gold of tamarack trees lent a certain je ne se quoi to the visit. The backdrop to the sublime alpine scene is the ever unique Matterhorn.

Zermatt is a tourist town that doubles in population from 5000 to 10000 during ski season. A poor agrarian settlement in the early 19th century, the discovery and conquering of the once unclimbable Matterhorn put Zermatt on the map, and changed its fate overnight.

Whitney and I redevouxed in Grenoble, France and spent a short two days with my cousin and her husband. Susan graciously drove us to Geneva, so we could begin our train tour of Switzerland. The train ride from Geneva east to Visp passed through wine country on the north shore of Lake Geneva. Vineyards on the left, huge lake on the right shaded by massive uplift alps to the south, all the while passing through charming Swiss towns. I'm not a big fan of using the word "charming", but I can't find a better general descriptor for this purpose.

From Visp we took a night train up the valley to Zermatt. No combution-engine cars are allowed here, maintaining pristine air. If you do visit, beware the stealth battery powered taxis, they navigate throngs of tourists rapidly and seemingly under the impression that people never change course.

On our first day, we went for a hike. During the beginning of the hike, about the first two hours, we were enraptured by the beauty of the surroundings and the hyperbolic joy of being together again after four months apart. We floated upon trails soft with tamarack needles. We took pictures in this little village called Zumsee, a short walk uphill from Zermatt. These antique buildings were originally sheepherder dwellings, from back when many a livestock were set to graze on the high alpine summer grass and edelweiss.

Still wearing our bliss helmets, we frolicked a bit in the glacial runoff.

We found a tram station, and decided to take it all the way up, for a view, and then we would take it back down and perhaps hike a bit more. Perhaps we could find one of those quaint little cottages that serve plum cakes and gluhwein. The view from up top is very nice, if you like glaciers and rocks, which I do.

Still smiling, despite the cold wind, despite the gnawing feeling that Hans is about to lead her on an underestimated downhike that would last way too many hours.

After hot chocolate and plum cakes, she is happy again. I begin to plot the rest of the day.

Way above treeline, the lifeless landscape lent something of a lunar feeling to the little walk. We were so high up that color no longer existed. After this photo, things went downhill. Figuratively as well as literally. Tricky route finding, very nasty steep scree, my lame humour... It started to wear on the poor girl.

At this point I'm carrying Whitney. She had had enough and made it known by just refusing to walk. Like a little child, crying and pouting and stubornly staying put.

By the time we got here, we had walked downhill through scree for a few hours, and still had a long way to go to get back to town. I had made bad assumptions about the operating times of the trams, and misjudged distances and times. But I had a compass and a headlamp, what could go wrong? This beat up old shack looked pretty inviting, but we couldn't find a way in.

We finally arrived back in town after dark. Hungry and bitchy, I believe was how Whitney was feeling. I kept trying to convince her that all would be well as soon as we got showered and into a restuarant. That all of this pain and suffering would melt away; hard-earned food tastes even better. Now I do strongly believe this statement, but it somehow didn't work to encourage or smilify mon cheri.

After the hike was done, showers were had, clothing changed, we were relaxing at the Casa Rustica, enjoying a wonderful local wine and fondue. The wine was a Humagne Rouge from a village we passed through by train enroute. The wine was outstanding, the company even better, and the inescapable force of destiny hard at work in my words. I asked her to marry me. And she said yes! We opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate and forgot all about the hike. Except for the fact that our legs hurt for the next five days.