The old hotel and the start of the hike to the glacier
First, I'll tell you about the "Old Boutique Hotel By the Glacier and Post Office". Despite being relatively cheap (approx. 90 francs), it turned out to be quite interesting. For instance, the room smelled just like my grandma's old stone house. The interior matched: bathroom curtains with a mechanical handle to lock them in place, like in a train, two pot-bellied faucets with twist knobs, like in the USSR. The floor creaks, the furniture is baroque style. A nightlight with a yellow incandescent-style bulb and a brightness dial. Another interesting thing is that there was a sink right in the room: in the next hotel, too. Apparently, it's some kind of traditional thing, so a person can get ready and freshen up while their husband or wife is in the bathroom/toilet. As a welcome, cookies and candies were waiting for me on the table. At the bar, they gave me a reusable glass water bottle with a swing-top lid, like the ones they sell in Depo for homemade wine. In the morning I ran into a hotel worker wearing retro pants and a blazer, and I was so impressed I even paid her a compliment.
The breakfast was fairly decent. The already traditional muesli (4 kinds!) with yogurt (on ice!), croissants. On top of that, 3 kinds of bread, boiled eggs, pickles, cold cuts of meat, cheese, salmon!, and even nuts with dried fruit, surprisingly enough. A huge retro-futuristic style toaster. There was no hot food. Apparently, human labor is too expensive. There were hardly any visitors: maybe 6-9 people in total. You had to ask for coffee at the bar, there was no coffee machine in the dining room. But when they brought my latte, the mug was truly steampunk: metallic and gleaming with polished copper.
When I had already eaten and was getting ready to leave, I bumped into yesterday's Americans and got chatting with them. Their names were Beth and Bobby. They had a tragic backstory: they met over the shared experience of losing their children. As a result, they even created a support group for people who have survived a loss, to help others. I got so carried away that I spent the two hours allocated for my early mountain climb talking and listening (actually mostly listening). We exchanged contacts for the future, you never know, maybe they'll come to Latvia, or I'll go to Colorado.
In the end, I only met up with the guys around 11 o'clock, and we all started out together. Our plan was the Aletsch Glacier, the biggest one in the Alps.
Whether we actually made it there, you'll find out in the next part.
And so the hike began
The ascent to Eggishorn peak and the Aletsch Glacier
The rain didn't get any heavier, and after drizzling a bit, it stopped. The wind, meanwhile, was picking up. It got genuinely chilly. We bundled up. For those who haven't been hiking: if you're dressed warmly, then when you're trekking uphill, you start sweating and soaking your clothes with moisture. If you're dressed lightly, the wind cuts right through and bites, and it gets very uncomfortable very quickly during stops.
And there were stops, because I was constantly begging Garik to walk slower. Luckily, he listened, even though I had to whine every 10 minutes. I cursed the cursed mountain, but methodically trudged upward, albeit at a snail's pace. I myself don't like it when people seriously whine on hikes without good reason, but doing it jokingly is fine. A joke, as we know, helps us work and live.
On the way, an important question arose: where was this highly advertised glacier? Having climbed halfway up the route, we only saw a tiny sliver. Even that was beautiful, but we wanted majesty and immensity! Garik just couldn't remember where he and Ulya had walked last time. There was a real chance that we took the wrong path and wouldn't really see Aletsch properly. That would be a bummer.
And here we are, the finish line is close, we round the final rock. In front of us is the cable car station, on the right is Eggishorn peak, and right between them, in all its glory, the Aletsch Glacier. The sight is inspiring, and Ulya's praises of the glacier were completely justified. It really is beautiful. From the Eggishorn viewpoint you can see its paw, and the glacier itself is huge, stretching for twenty kilometers, with an area of almost a hundred.
Garik and I couldn't resist and ran up to the Eggishorn peak itself, which is about 3km high. It's not far from the cable car station, and the trail there is more or less accessible. On the way, we met some chicks speaking Russian. At first, I thought one girl was Kazakh, judging by her looks and the tracksuit from an expensive, albeit mainstream brand. I figured she was some oil tycoon's daughter. We got talking, and it turned out the girls were from Ukraine, but have been living in Switzerland for a while. Anastasia turned out to be chatty, she told me all sorts of useful stuff about local hiking. She seemed to be at the glacier for the first time, just like me, and when we were riding down in the gondola, we kept winking at each other funny from the sheer overload of positive emotions.
What else we did at the summit, you'll find out in the next episode.
The descent from Eggishorn and a new plan
As it happened, we ran into the missing part of our crew at the Eggishorn station. The guys came up on the gondolas and were enjoying the view. No matter how you look at it, if you drag yourself up the mountain on your own two feet, you get a bigger kick out of it, even if not everyone shares this mindset. But man proposes, and life disposes. It's good that our comrades joined us, regardless of how it happened.
When Garik and I got back from our trek to the peak itself, the guys were already sipping coffee from the local cafe. Admiring the glacier outside, all wrapped up in blankets. I went into the cafe to ask for some boiling water, and a girl named Anya (that was her full name) sold it to me for one euro, at my suggestion. Lifehack: most people are kind and don't mind helping you out if you ask politely and with a smile. I chatted with her a bit later, asked if it was a popular name, and it turned out, yeah. Besides Anya, there's also Anna, quite often too.
By the way, it turned out that the girl we met is a nutritionist, trainer, and the Ukrainian and European champion in fitness bikini, whatever that means. Her name is Anastasia Poltavskaya.
I'm honestly quite flattered to have met her. By the way, in case anyone doesn't know, my first "job" was making a website for the local (Latvian) fitness federation. While making it, I saw plenty of our jacked girls in bikinis, and occasionally even without. I also set up a computer for a well-known local fitness guru and businessman, and his PC was totally infested with porn trojans. It was hilarious. Unfortunately
- I didn't know jack about design, and didn't study it
- I modestly asked for very little money
- I was kind of intimidated by the bodybuilder-businessman, and didn't call him up myself to pitch more services
Or maybe it's for the best. Ultimately, my life didn't turn out too badly.
Let's get back to the Aletsch Glacier, though. We drank our tea and coffee, walked back and forth, and eventually ran for the last gondola down. Anastasia rode with us, as well as Anya with trash bags, since there's no other transport to the glacier. It was right in the gondola that Garik's anonymous female friend asked me if I regretted coming, and I winked at Anastasia and replied that I didn't regret it one bit.
They say that in Europe, only Norway compares to Switzerland in beauty. I was there when I was 15, and I was just as amazed every single second.
So why do they dye eggs in Switzerland? Let me know in the comments.
On the last gondola we went down to Fiesch, and began the long journey home. The train (not just one) takes less than three hours, but goes the long way round via Bern, around 250 km. On the upside, it's comfortable, and it's fun to zone out staring out the window. Unless, of course, you're me, and instead of the window you're frantically jabbing at your phone with your clumsy paws. After all, I've got to plan what's next, write posts on a portable keyboard, sort photos. But what I really want is to just shoot the breeze about our impressions and stuff, like everyone else. It's not often I spend the whole entire day with friends; at least, not when I'm not out cycling on the weekend.
We made it back without incident, but by the time I got home (I still had to schlep from Zurich to Baar), it was past ten in the evening. The friends I was staying with go to bed pretty early, so there was a bit of a mismatch in our schedules. However, we still managed to find time to chat. About programming, salaries, life in Switzerland and Latvia, and other pressing matters. I'm easily distracted, so I'd constantly get sucked into conversations, putting off my planning until a "later" that never comes. From the exhaustion and the fresh air, I slept pretty well, even though I woke up on the early side. The next day, we were again chatting unhurriedly in the morning. Meanwhile, I was trying to come up with some kind of new plan, but an easier one, so I could alternate the hardcore stuff with chill time, as my life experience tells me to do.
A plan emerged: since my comrades once again (didn't) come up with something boring and vague, I decided to split off. My friend lent me his alcobike: a bicycle meant for riding home from a bar, like, the drinking establishment, not the city of Baar. Just so you understand, an alcobike here is a Specialized with a carbon fork, a bike that probably costs over a grand brand new. And a real sports machine goes for 5-10 thousand euros.
We pumped up the bike's tires, I made sure I had the map and enough battery, and hit the road. My knees, unfortunately, don't really let me blast through the mountains anymore. My route was simple: ride around the nearby lake — Zug. Not only is this route almost entirely flat, but more than half of it is on bike paths. Before leaving, I was shown a local curiosity — colored chicken eggs.
So why do they dye eggs in Switzerland? Let me know in the comments.
