Thunder Lowers its Voice
Sept 22–27, Zermatt, Switzerland
Seasonal Memoir Entry #28
I took my first “touristy” adventure in Switzerland, spending the weekend in Zermatt, a village at the top of a ravine on the Swiss-Italian border, and at the base of the famous Matterhorn. Many things in life don’t live up to its advertising, but the experience did not disappoint, though it thrilled in unexpected ways.
I took the train from Zug, with changes in Zurich HG and Visp. I love train travel! Zipping through the countryside, daydreaming, and wondering what mysteries the places we passed held. The last hour’s ride, from Visp to Zermatt, was on the Matterhorn Gotthard Bahn train, a special line that had cogs due to the steepness of the ravine, and windows in the cars’ roof.
Zermatt was predictably touristy (Instagram leaves that part out), but nevertheless charming in its own right, with chalets, greenery everywhere, a mountain stream running through its center, and a cemetery with candles and flowers at nearly every grave. No cars were allowed in town. A cog railway took people up into the mountains the easy way, and several gondolas were also at one’s disposal.
Saturday was blessed with chamber of commerce weather, and I made my way up to Gornergrat, a civilized trail (I am working hard not to fall off anything during my time in Switzerland) that winds its way for 10km and a 1,600m elevation gain to a spectacular view of alpine glaciers. Typical Swiss style, there is a full service restaurant and observation platform at the top of the 3,000+m peak. I chose to take a more circuitous (and steeper) route down, meeting up with a swift mountain stream and then the upper reaches of Zermatt. I returned 7 hours after I started, and I can’t remember being that tired in a long time, surely a sign of the altitude (not my age, ha).
I’ve always been more of a mountain person than an ocean person. There is something about a mountain’s stability and dignity that perhaps better matches my personality. But it was the glaciers that really caught my attention, and unexpectedly, took my breath away. I stared in awe, taking in its scale, its patterns, and its partnership with the mountain that formed it. The feeling of grandeur eventually evolved into an unmistakable sadness. To think that glaciers all around the higher latitudes are in fast retreat due to climate change hit home hard. This sense of loss evoked anger, and a desire to do something about it, though I know that impact is out of reach for me. I eased the emotion by imagining a time when the Earth was much, much hotter, and there were no glaciers anywhere, and the Matterhorn would have looked the same, but been quite tropical. This oddly served as a salve. It left me thinking that things are always changing, so I might as well appreciate what is right in front of me at any given moment. Easier said than done.
