| Start | Wetterhorn base |
| End | Lauterbrunnen |
| Distance | 29 km / 18 m |
| Passes | Grosse Scheidegg, Kleine Scheidegg |
After the early night thunderstorm, the morning is crisp and clear. The Wetterhorn is still there.
Dawn on the Wetterhorn
It’s a short hike up from camp to Grosse Scheidegg. The skies are not as boring as in previous days.
Looking back to the previous day’s grounds
Climbing a pass for the first time is always an emotional as much as a physical milestone. A pass is a gate to a new place and it often comes with a view. Grosse Scheidegg may not be the most memorable pass on the Via Alpina, it’s barely above the treeline, it holds a minor thru-road and a berghaus hotel right on the pass and a few other chalets around but it will offer me my first close-up, unobstructed view of this mountaineering icon that’s the north face of the Eiger. It’s one of those sights from the textbooks:
There we go, the Eiger
Closer, a bit of walking and quite some lens zoom
The climb down from Grosse Scheidegg is a battle between the physical need to your footing and the emotional drive to look at the mountain. It gets easier when the trails turn to tracks. This one seems to take me there:
Way to the Eiger
It may have been because of this distraction but I lose the Via Alpina for the first time in the trip as I follow a different set of trails that take me down to the same valley anyway as the dark wall gets closer and the high clouds change shape.
Chalets with a vew
Grindelwald is the town at the foot of the Eiger. If the rest of trail towns were touristy, this one beats them all in that field. At least, there’s a lot of boots, poles and packs moving around.
Grindelwald
It’s in Grindelwald that I do my only relevant resupply stop of the trip, all that jazz about supermarket aisles and a re-packaging session on a park bench. All fine and dandy and I’m happy to leave as soon as duties are done.
Next is Kleine Scheidegg. Despite the name, it’s marginally higher than its Grosse neighbor. It makes a lot of topographical sense that they’re family, both passes are a broad saddle in a flattening of a main ridge off the Wetterhorn/Eiger.
I start climbing in the early afternoon and the sun beats the hell down on me. I hide under my brim hat, look down and concentrate on the basic act of walking but I keep a spot for the view back towards Grindelwald, Grosse Scheidegg and the Wetterhorn.
Mountains are an obvious Swiss icon. Cog railways are another. There is one such line across Kleine Scheidegg with a branch climbing from Grindelwald that the Via Alpina course meets several times along the way. It’s like a metro area commuter train in a mountain setting. Even stations are in a slope.
The previous night’s thunderstorm looked like a one off in this endless fair weather window I’m hiking through until clouds started gathering midway on my climb. At some point I looked back and the cumulonimbus were already covering the visible scene:
Storm clouds
The final stretch to the pass is a modest race against the impending rain. It keeps me busy in the rather unattractive approach to the Kleine Scheidegg.
Kleine Scheidegg approach
I get a few drops but I appreciate this time the weather gods were nice to me and waited until I was at the pass to let it really rain.
Oddly for a mountain pass, Kleine Scheidegg is an oversized rail link. The train station is the heart of the little urban area developed around it. There’s a cog track climbing from either side of the pass and a third one leaving up towards the Jungfrau massif to a crazy height well beyond the 3000 m. I don’t want to even think about it.
Kleine Scheidegg station
Despite the improper location, the station building is rather nice in its simplicity and provides me with welcome shelter from the rain when it starts to really come down. After several days of blue skies, I was not mentally ready for this. I opt for a soft introduction to wet weather hiking and take my time in front of a coffee and cake run at the station restaurant.
Charming station restaurant
Eventually I need to step out. The heat from a few hours back seems very far, it’s got surprisingly cold and I was so used to the dry weather that this now feels quite wrong but the trail couldn’t be easier walking and I need to worry about nothing but walk and try to spot the Jungfrau massif through the mist.
The Jungfrau behind the mist
Despite the cloud build model, I didn’t get a thunderstorm, just moderate rain that eases in time to get a good view of the impressive mountains and glaciers to my left:
The Jungfrau in most of its glory
The valley below starts dragging my attention as the sun makes a brief appearance that seems to mark the end of the stormy weather. Wengen town lies ahead in a sloping bench above the glacial-carved section of the valley:
Coming down to valley, a spell of light
I liked this sign at the edge of a hamlet:
When hiking is part of the scene
As I look up the valley to the high peaks, it’s not clear if the weather is gonna settle or not. Dark clouds still hang around.
Rock, ice & cloud
Past uber-touristy Wengen, the route reaches the edge of the glacial escarpment with truly spectacular views to the valley bottom and Lauterbrunnen village, waterfall and everything:
Lauterbrunnen in its secluded, perfect glacial valley
The Via Alpina follows a wide but very steep, heavily switched-back track down the escarpment to Lauterbrunnen. I get there with little time to spare and the comforting idea of staying in town for the night, then it comes my day’s story of failure and success when take my pack off and I realize that I’ve lost my rain pants.
They were hanging out to dry after I took them off and somehow slipped and fell. This really hurts my orderly-minded hiker self-steem but I manage to not get angry. I make a quick recall of the last time I was aware the pants were still there, think of the long, steep section I just climbed down and my first thought is to consider them lost, no way I’m climbing back up. On second thought, I recall a day hiker I had left behind that might have found my lost pants and decide to start walking back in hopes of crossing paths again.
By the time I had retraced steps to the base of the climb I had boldly decided to keep going until I found my lost pants. I was super tired, it was late but I thought that in the near future (or as soon as the following day) I would not miss the time and effort spent while I’d definitely would miss my rain pants. They were a beautiful, specialty item produced locally by fellow hiker and mountaineer Marco at astucas.com that I was really fond of. When I became aware of this, I didn’t care anymore how late it was or how tired I felt, I just hiked uphill.
I never met the day hiker again but when I spotted an odd-looking white bulge in the distance, I knew what it was.
You know this plain, sheer happiness feeling like nothing else matters? It’s both nice and weird that such simple, rather materialistic event can make me feel this good but I won’t argue.
I was about to arrive in town sort-of early and mostly dry, due to the cool weather and the downhill approach. It was part of the idea when I was toying with the thought of staying in Lauterbrunnen for the night, I felt it as a welcome relief from my self-imposed discipline. Instead, I get there in twilight and properly sweated over but that’s as far as my misery goes. Right on main street I meet the sign for the local hostel where there’s room and a super nice host that seems to immediately understand all my urgent needs and goes out of her way to help. I must have looked awful at the time.
It’s not that much that I really need but it makes a world of a difference after I’ve taken a shower and washed my cloths. It’s been too many sweat layers, day after day and it was starting to feel dirty even to my tolerant, hikertrash stance.
It rains again after dark, quite heavy at times but the forecast is for mostly dry weather the next day. It’s time to relax.
RSS – Posts
Say what you want