The Ascent - Not So Faul

Prior to the July 31 completion of his two year ex-pat venture, Swedish Sven (actually from Wisconsin now residing in North Carolina) visited Zürich for a long weekend in mid-July. Since Sven and I had reconvened annually the past seven years for a group backpacking tradition, we planned to extend that theme during his visit via an overnight hike in the Jungfrau Alps above Interlaken. Bless his soul, Sven arrived bearing the most spectacular gift possible—his espresso machine (mine broke in January, was dubbed unfixable by a Swiss expert and went un-replaced); it naturally requires 220V input, perfectly suitable in Sweden or Switzerland but unusable in the U.S. Overwhelmed with emotion, I blubbered my heartfelt gratitude and ruined a few Kleenexes upon regaining home-espresso capabilities.

That Thursday evening we organized our backpacking gear for our Friday-to-Saturday hike. This being my first overnight hike in Switzerland, I wasn’t sure what to expect. For a normal U.S. backcountry trip, we’d carry a tent and sleeping bags & pads and stoves and pots & pans and fuel and a water filter and all our meals pre-dried; each pack might weigh 30-35 lbs for two or three nights out. But per my limited understanding based on some (mostly German) research, Switzerland doesn’t really allow backcountry camping. Instead various huts, hostels and hotels are scattered amidst the network of hiking trails that covers the country-- even in “remote” hiking areas--so basically you’re never really that remote. In a tiny, densely populated country whose most precious natural resource is its beauty, hiking is not a pastime but an industry.

We planned to start above Interlaken and mountain-village Grindelwald and hike up to the local peak, the Faulhorn (8,800 ft.), stay Friday evening at the hut/hostel Berghotel Faulhorn—Europe’s oldest mountain hotel established in 1830--and hike down an adjoining ridge the following day. The plan’s only wrinkle was the weather forecast: nice for Friday’s ascent but rain blowing in for our “hotel” night and Saturday descent. Via phone a week prior in broken German, I had booked two bunks in the Berghotel’s 60-bunk Touristenlager (still not entirely sure of the amenities) and then let the cancellation date pass on Thursday. Rain or no rain, we were going hiking...

But like a doomed Everest expedition, disaster nearly struck before we could leave base camp. Disaster in the form of two extremely chatty Irish women (sorry, chatty and Irish is already redundant) who somehow stole our window table at the neighborhood bar Thursday night as Sven and I were responsibly finishing up our second beer, and then proceeded to buy us several additional large beers solely to suspend our departure in order to harangue me for being unemployed, for my woeful knowledge of Zürich dance clubs, and our U.S. politics in general. Actually they were pleasant enough--and it's occasionally relaxing to not say a single word for two hours--but we wisely let them hop a cab for unknown clubs while we stumbled home to catch our early AM train.

We blearily grabbed our packs and caught the bus to the train station Friday morning, the hangover not really kicking in until halfway to Interlaken and in full swing as we cogwheel-trammed and ski-lifted ourselves to Grindelwald and then First, our trailhead at 7,100 ft. Our small daypacks were light, perhaps only 10-12 lbs, carrying little more than a change of clothes, toiletries, light blankets, snacks & emergency rain gear, having forsaken nearly all backcountry equipment including sleeping bags. The hike was not long but fairly steep at 3.5 miles and 1,700 ft. gain; we progressed slowly to appreciate the absolutely gorgeous weather and scenery, passing the classic Alpine Bachalpsee lake on the way to the Faulhorn.

Steph and I had dayhiked the same route to the Berghotel Faulhorn two years prior on vacation but not explored too much. Management maintains the small establishment's interior quite well for its considerable age, although signs of antiquity abound. Despite all supplies requiring helicopter-lifting to the hotel's concrete landing pad once or twice a week (a spectacle Steph and I observed on our first visit, really amazing), the tiny restaurant's menu was impressively complete. As Sven devoured a nice sausage-in-homemade-pea-soup for late lunch, the proprietor explained that the bunk reservations had been fairly full that evening until every party except us canceled due to weather; luckily we had all 60 bunks to ourselves.

We spent the late afternoon at the Faulhorn's peak, perhaps 50 ft. above the hotel itself, gawking at the amazingly clear 360° views including the region's famous triple feature of Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau peaks. We unpacked onto the best two bunks available (the Berghotel also features six small private rooms, of which two remained booked that evening, so Sven and I were not the sole guests present a la The Shining's Overlook Hotel). Dinner was spectacularly mountainous cuisine: Alpine macaroni in cheese sauce for Sven and classic Rösti hash browns topped with Spiegelei fried egg for me, washed down (gingerly this evening) with a single beer.

The expected storm arrived as dinner ended, rattling the old dining room. Violent wind and rain lashed in as I cracked open the exit door, slamming it shut again to regroup like in some melodramatic movie. Laughing in disbelief, we sprinted outside and up a flight of stone steps to the bunks, drenched, cold and panting after 15 seconds' exposure. The bunk room temperature had plummeted amidst the approaching cold front at 8,800 ft. to perhaps 40-something degrees. We bundled up with the lightweight fleece blankets we'd brought, reinforced by several heavy wool blankets provided with the bunks, and allowed the angry, pounding rain to lull us to sleep, dreaming of tomorrow's adventure...

Some scenic pictures: http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=2hd8fyj.595lcmoz&x=0&y=dv5ybu&localeid=en_US