Switzerland 2011

Off to Switzerland with my mom and brother to visit the ancestral home of the Walker family. Hmmm, turns out it feels and smells a lot like Ferndale. Fragrant and beautiful.

 So this is Andermatt, where my great great grandfather was born. And this is me and Bro-bro with matching shoes. I wore these brown pants everyday of the trip, partly to amuse my grandma who will read this blog, but also because I really don't see the point in changing them.

My mom knows some German to get us through ordering lunch, but it really doesn't matter. The options are sausage or hashbrowns, pretty much every meal.

The hills behind Andermatt.

 Perch head  on steps. 

A hilarious interaction between my mom and a farmer. My mom kept calling him Volvi, which turned out to be the name of his dog.

The awesome church that sits above the town. 

River crossing.

This smile usually means he's going to hurt me, but I think it may be genuine here.  

A big part of our trip, of course, was riding trains. Why are Americans such dumbasses with no trains? It seems like it makes even more sense here. Back to my point, I love this picture of my mom. 

 

We then traveled to Murren. This town was our favorite, 100 or so houses perched on the edge of a cliff, right in front of the Eiger Summit. 

As seen here.

Snowball fight.

A view from our apartment. 

I think this must be the moment that Matt planned to kill his mom and brother with a "death hike". Convince them to walk to the summit of the Schilthorn, the rest should take care of itself.

It started as a nice walk up a small hill.

No special equipment, just running shoes, polyester pants, bushhog hat, a little bit of water. 

Looking back, I should have seen the creepy swing set as an omen. At the time it was cute.

The clean crisp air felt awfully good in the ol' lungs when we started climbing. 

"Do you know where this trail goes?" my mom asks. "Does it matter?" I think was my brother's response

And little patches of snow started to appear on the ground. 

Uh yeah, just a little winded with a broken foot, I'll be ok.

Obviously satisfied with the challenge.

And this is the point where we should have turned back

But the clouds starting rolling in, making the hike back down the mountain very difficult. 

We continued up, the snow got deeper, the hill got steeper.

I took this photo to remember how ridiculous this hike had become, pretty scary, but we were trying to reach the peak where a lift could take us back down. 

This is when it got real. Not to be dramatic, but just one slip is all it would really take to go sliding down the mountain. It was here where I decided to stop taking photos and concentrate.(See my brother and mom as little specs.)

It's kinda of hard to explain how difficult climbing up this ridge was. I literally had to kick and dig the tip of each shoe into the snow with every step so I wouldn't slip off the face. Most of the cables were buried, my hands and feet were completely frozen, it was terrifying. When I got to the top, I could see my brother and mom as two tiny dots down the mountain. I borrowed some guy's binoculars and followed their progress up, trying to decide if I should get help.  I was scared for my mom but my brother heroically stayed behind and helped her.  From the top, you could tell that this trail was closed to the public, we must have missed that sign at the bottom. 

Before we knew it, we had hike to the top of the Schilthorn.  When we got to the top, people looked as us like we were insane (they had taken the gondola). We later heard stories of how dangerous it is to hike that trail this time of year, and that every year tourists have to get rescued by helicopter for the small price of $2000/person. It also turns out we had hiked up the wrong side, the steep side where crampons and ice axes are required. 

After we took the gondola down and arrived back at the apartment, a few things happened:

• We sat in silence for a bit, and reflected on our brush with death, and decided to stay in for the rest of the evening
• Matt nervously laughed and apologized to us
• I pointed out how my pants, being polyester, stayed completely dry during the hike, compared to their soaked levis
• Our shoes developed a strange squeek from being frozen

 The next day we hiked around Murren, Grindelwald and Gundlisch . My mom would not stop talking about how much she loves the tidy woodpiles. The whole trip mind you, not just on this hike. She was fascinated. I think we will have some work to do at the cabin this summer.

On the valley floor you could look up and see this waterfall. Very reminiscent of Last of the Mohicans, my mom did her best Daniel Day Lewis impression.

 The next day we took a gondola to the other side of the mountain range and went hiking in the shadow of the great Eiger Peak.

From there we had a great view of the peak we had climbed a few days earlier, basically from those green trees at the bottom to the peak at the top right.

The next day we were off to Lausanne. My brother vowed to master the french language on the 3 hour train ride. He got as far as learning how to order one beer, and then several more.

 We hiked along this beautiful path along lake Geneva, to visit the Chateau de Chillon, where Lord Byron was once imprisoned, and thousands of "witches" were tortured while waiting for trial.

 

This is not my photo, but a nice shot of the castle.

  The last stop on our trip was Bern. My mom escaped to do some shopping while my brother and I walked around the city with still squeeky shoes. 

 

They kinda have enormous bears just hanging out in the park, a very small fence is what separates you from suffering the fate of Timothy Treadwell. 

My favorite car ever. 

 We then made our way to the airport. My mom had to rush and leave much earlier than us, but she was spared Matt's moronic babbling about the grand opening of his restaurant for idiots, "Big Timmy's."