Grindelwald, Back to my first love
15th June 2021
You surely know this famous quote from John Muir : “The mountains are calling and I must go”…. Yes I feel too like the mountain is calling me every now and then. If you’ve tread once a barely marked path, admired tormented clouds wrap around haughty peaks or the eagle scream in the azure of a summer sky. Feet that ache for the eyes to behold, a beauty so raw it crushes the soul. An air and water so pure it strikes skin and lungs with a burning freshness. The cowbells in the pasture and the chalet darkened by time. It’s a humble self that is forced to face the mountain, rugged and enchanting, it will call you back to it again and again from the day you have discovered its fascinating beauty.
Grindelwald
My love for the mountains comes from a family tradition. On my mother side, she, her brothers, sister and cousins were gathered every year by her grandparents in Chamonix for some intense expeditions at the conquest of the highest peaks. My grandmother tried the Mont Blanc with my grandfather but it turned out he had mountain sickness so they had to go down halfway up. When a cousin died in a mountain accident, my mother gave up climbing and those high mountain expeditions. But her love for the mountains survived into long hikes and along my father, she teached her children to love this kind of quiet but still sportive mountain enjoyment too.
We got acquainted with the small mountain village of Grindelwald through my grandmother. She had a brother, a passionate pilot in the Belgian army who used to bring her there with his plane when she was a widow. This year, my two brothers and I, coming as photographers on a mission, are welcomed at the Belvedere Hotel. With four stars and a venerable reputation, the hotel was founded in 1904 by the Hauser family and is now managed by the third generation. The facade of this gray and pink institution, neither really modern nor really old, leaves you first with mixed feelings. But one only needs to step through the lobby doors to be completely charmed by the discreet luxury of a contemporary decoration that opens upon the mountain panorama. A welcome drink is savored with pleasure in the lobby before we are led to a perfectly decorated bedroom with a balcony and an XXL bathroom. The first day starts in the gondola going up to First because the program is tight and we have to reach Backalpsee lake early in the morning. We wave at a couple of young Americans smiling at us from the next gondola. In the mountains, human relations are straightforward and friendly.
The sun is there but winter has stayed so late this year that mid-June the high pastures remain marked by its icy embrace and high walls of snow persist above 1800m altitude. Despite the late spring, an abundance of bright blue gentians nestle in the hollow of each rock and marmots greet our passage every 50 meters. The path crosses deep patches of snow and when we reach Backalpsee the lake is still frozen and covered by a thick layer of bluish dirty paste which melts very slowly in the shade of the mountainsides. The Eiger reveals a section of its summit for a few seconds and then hides deeper in the shelter of the clouds. It will be the only time we are going to see it’s summit uncovered. We descend to the rhythm of some photo stops and I rediscover the agricultural and family vibe I love to Grindelwald above all else. We stop to eat on a low stone wall facing a beautiful waterfall between First and Waldspitz. Bread, sausage, cheese and the rumbling of the water which plunges powerfully down the rocks is my definition of luxury…
The steep descent which starts from the right of First towards the village zigzags between old pines. Their branches hang above our heads like an emerald canopy while the roots emerge from the soft carpet of needles like as many steps to trip over. Down in the village, an ice cream shop gets our attention and sweet folly, we cross the street with a refreshing cone at the end of our arm.
The next day, we wake up at 4:30 am. We take the first train to Wengen from the relatively new (2019) Grindelwald station nestled in the hollow. Outside of Europe, Wengen is an irresistibly famous touristic destination. Although I know the area well, this is my first time in the village. On the side of the mountain and only reachable by train, Wengen overlooks the narrow valley of Lauterbrunnen and its 72 waterfalls. We know this is a point of view that will be appreciated by photography lovers and so we await the sunrise with its promised ideal conditions. We just need a ray of sun in the valley for the picture we have in mind.
My waking up metabolism is slow and exactly the opposite of my two companions. I’m standing up but I’m not quite awake yet, Derek and Clarent nag me with their dynamism but an hour later I start to joke and laugh as they sink into a morose torpor. The ideal conditions will never be there for that day and we come down disappointed for the next point of view.
Mannlichen. A small summit of 2343m that I often climbed as a child. A huge, very artificial golden crown forms a terrace at the top and spoils everything. This is the royal walk expressly designed for tourists who take photos of themselves and access them from the heated cabins. Two valleys can be seen from the summit when the clouds part for a few minutes. It’s Lauterbrunnen on one side and Grindelwald on the other. In the distance, Lake Brienz can be seen. The Jungfrau peak is constantly into the clouds. Like a beautiful young lady with soft white curves, she rises haughty and dominant over the other peaks that surround her. Mönch is the second highest summit of the Bernese Alps after her. It is towards Alpiglen that we direct our steps in search of a photographic composition more original than the eternal same views taken from the touristic spots. From Männlichen, the path that leads over a desolate face to the Kleine Sheidegg pass is closed due to snow, we follow it in parallel until the path ends up receding downwards. Rocks, bushes, small fir trees, far from the tourist spots, everything that can only be reached with the strength of two strong legs is deserted.
When we rarely meet people, it is husband and wife over their 50’s who simply indulge in the old-fashioned pleasure of a hike without any performance in mind. The younger generation is only seen either on the easy, lazy touristic spots or getting exhausted into an extreme sportive experience. After the picnic break, we put our backpacks back on and finally change direction completely down towards Grindelwald.
Let’s return to the village. But the thunderstorm is getting close and as we stop frequently for pictures, we are falling behind on our plans. Between the meadows, the pines and the chalets which begin to appear again, we accelerate the pace without losing any of the charm of the landscape. Still far above the village, an old oak tree with crooky branches half covers the roof of an old, imposing chalet. The blackened wood and small irregular panes of the windows tell how old it is. This is my dream home.
I can clearly see myself watching evening fall from its threshold like a haven where I would go to rest from my adventures. My knee gives me so much pain on the way down that I trip frequently and as the rain falls heavy on us, a part of fatigue and a part of drunkenness takes hold of me. The thunder shakes the rocks, shakes my limbs which in spite of me accelerate, the lightning tears the clouds while the station where the car is parked is still a tiny point at the bottom. We could have taken the gondola back and saved ourselves the 20km of steep descent, but I don’t regret the effort and the rain. My brother gestures to me with a laugh that my face with sticky wet hair is as red as a tomato. So much the better, it’s invigorating. Soaked, we finally get back to the car, take out the well-protected photographic gear and set off for the evening shelter and a stop elsewhere in Switzerland.
