Wild Mountain Hiking in Grindelwald
Today we were up at the crack of dawn (8am is the crack of dawn to us)); we were breakfasted and ready for another adventure, by about 9.30am. And what an adventure it turned out to be…
From the railway station in Lauterbrunnen, we caught a train to Grindelwald, making only one change along the way, at Zweilütschinen. As with previous days, the weather started out grey and wet but, as before, it gradually began to clear, and blue patches appeared in the sky. This was a relief, since we’d specifically chosen today for the trip based upon the weather forecast, which showed Thursday as being the better of our final three days in the area, before heading towards home.
As the crow flies, Grindelwald is situated on the other side of the hill to where we are staying, and can be reached via the same train we went up to Wengen. We’d been quoted a ticket price only just short if £200, just to get to Kleine Scheidegg, which is roughly halfway. Do the maths… The return fair to Grindelwald, for the two of us, via regular train service, came to about £36. So… that would be a no-brainer, then. If, at that, you’re thinking we’re slipping when it comes to haemorrhaging money, then I’m pleased to say we made up for it when we got to Grindelwald. Two return tickets to First – the name of the top cable car station from the town – set us back a cool £150.
Grindelwald is overlooked by the mighty peaks of Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau. As we walked through the town towards the cable car station (which is nowhere near as pretty as Lauterbrunnen), we were bombarded by billboards telling us that this is the place to come for exciting, adventurous outdoor activities; climbing, skiing, hiking, paragliding, go-carting…. You name it, Grindelwald has it on-tap.
Once we’d paid for the tickets, we boarded the cable car and enjoyed a journey of some significant distance, passing through three stations – MGB Middle Station – Bort – Schrekfeld – before arriving at First. The cable cars are small, designed to carry a maximum of six passengers, but it was relatively quiet for the time of year, so we found ourselves sharing with just a young lass and her dog on the way up, and then had a car all to ourselves on the way down. I should mention that there are several optional ways back down the mountain; as well as the cable car (which was our option), there are scooter-bike-things and go-carts, which travel down a specially designed track, flying gondola-things, or assisted paragliding. All of those options require extra payment, of course… fun as some of them looked, we were very happy with the cable car, thank you very much.
Once at the top, our first job was to grab lunch in the self service restaurant (burgers and chips), where we sat at a table with a German couple, and Tracey was able to practice her German on them (very well, I would say, from where I sitting). Once refreshed, we proceeded to embark upon on a couple of action activities of our own…
…beginning with a cliff walk. This is a metal walkway bolted to the side of a precipitous rock face. It mostly hugged the cliff, but at one point it struck out a little, over a bridge. I’m generally okay with these things, but Tracey is a little more wary; kudos to her for completing the walk with me.
Views across the valley towards the Eiger were sporadic. Occasionally it would clear and the view would be spectacular. At other times, the clouds would roll across, totally obliterating any views as they did so. It was also snowing on and off. All of which brought into question whether or not our second planned activity was a good idea. Signs informed us that a walk to Bachalpsee, a stunning alpine lake further up the mountain, should take 50 minutes. It’s worth noting that many of the finger posts in this area aimed at hikers quote times instead of distances.
The pathway looked good, and there were plenty of other people doing the walk, so we started walking towards Bachalpsee, as planned
I would say that the advertised walking time is reasonably accurate; we’re not fast walkers by any means, but given perfect conditions, 50 minutes would probably be just about spot-on. As we walked, however, the weather conditions deteriorated, briefly improved, then deteriorated again. The falling snow never became overly heavy, but at times the wind would blow hard, and we’d be walking into a blizzard. It was also cold, with just the occasional respite when the sun almost broke through, only to disappear again, and the wild, wintery conditions persisted. The going felt slow, and after consulting Google maps to see whereabouts in relation to our target, it turned out – at that point – that we weren’t even half way. We contemplated turning back several times, particularly since many of those we met walking back the other way were consistently saying how bleak it was at the other end, and that the lake was frozen over and not much to look at, if you could see it through the cloud and snow at all. The numbers of walkers going the other way progressively diminished. No-one appeared to be behind us, walking the same way as us; with the snow continuing to fall and visibility remaining an issue, we started to worry about the footpath being covered over and not being able to find our way back. Up until that point, the track had remained visible at all times, but it doesn’t take much imagination to visualise our situation without such a path.
In the end, we pressed on, of course, vowing to turn back the moment things got any worse. Eventually, after several false summits, Bachalpsee came into view. I use the term loosely, though, since the cloud was down and the flat area before us could only be the lake. We stood for several minutes, aware of the need to bid a hasty retreat. Against all the odds, the clouds parted and blue patches appeared in the sky, and for what seemed like only a brief moment, the snowy landscape around us was revealed, before disappearing once again into the bleak whiteout.
As we turned back, we were unexpectedly joined by a young Chinese lad from Toronto. We’d met him briefly, earlier, and it seemed at first that he’d sought us out because he was concerned for our safety. It soon transpired that he clearly didn’t want to be there by himself, so he accompanied us all the way back to the cable car station. He was an affable young 23 year old, and a nice enough lad, but he simply wouldn’t stop talking. By the time we got back, we held off on the pretence of taking further photos of the view (which had disappeared again), thus encouraging him to depart by himself. Sharing a car all the way down to the bottom would have been a special kind of torture.
Once again, as we reflect upon our adventure… what a day! Our train journey back to Lauterbrunnen was uneventful, but fun. I say ‘fun’ because I don’t usually embrace public transport at all, preferring to drive everywhere myself. In these parts, though, it all seems the natural way of things, efficient and effortless.
I’ll say it again… what a day!
