Light streams through the forest canopy, great beams of light pushing their way through the branches like light spilling through a half-opened door. Frost crunched beneath our feet as the jays chattered above.
We’ve been walking steeply uphill for half-an-hour, leaving the van behind to walk through a quiet village still stiff from the overnight frost. As we’d emerged from the van, mist was hanging low and heavy on the lake, concealing the peaks we knew stood just beyond it.
The mist was replaced with pines standing shoulder to shoulder, again blocking our view even as we left the lake behind.
Despite the near-zero temperatures, steam rose from inside our fleeces as we huffed against the gradient, the young sun still strong on that September morning. As we rounded another hairpin bend, we entered a lingering pocket of icy cold air. It slapped us in the face, forcing us to take a sharp intake of breath. A few steps later and it was gone, warm air rushing back up to us.
I came to know this phenomenon as we made our way through the Alps and Dolomites in our van. I call it Alpine breath, and they’re a sensation I have only ever come across in these high mountains. You step into a momentary blip in temperature that gets right down your jacket and behind your ears before it’s carried away.
Soon, we noticed the air around us continue to lighten as we broke through the densest part of the forest. The rigid grass defrosted and laid back in the sun. Walking up a steep grassy slope we turned to feel the unimpeded warmth. It blasted away any and all remaining frost on our skin and yet – our breath was still taken away.
The Alps.
The Alps pulled me, like gravity, towards them, as if I would fall into them. I felt fear and wonder almost simultaneously.
Like a sentence scrawled on the horizon, they rose and fell as letters scribbled on a page. Some were sharp, angled, others curved and domed, all joined by one long elegant line. Each could stand alone but together they tell the story of this landscape.
I haven’t forgotten that first weekend we spent hiking in our new playground here in Switzerland. Since then we’ve spent nearly every weekend in our van, continuing to explore more and more in the areas around Zurich.
The mountains of Appenzell – the Alpstein – caught my imagination in particular. From the air, these three parallel ridges look like a huge cat has scored its claws through the earth. Säntis, the highest peak of the range, acts like a singularity, each ridge sucked towards it and drawing the eye.
Away from these grander adventures, even on a run from the front door, the presence of these huge guardians is palpable.
Cycling home on the darker nights, I can feel them hunkered in the dark at the end of the Zurichsee. Dormant, watching. In the mornings, when the fog is so deep, the Alps are hidden behind a shield of mystery. Sometimes I run through the forest under a clear sky in search of a view of them – only to find them obscured behind a wall of cloud.
Other days, when the sky lies blackened and bruised above, I look south to see the belly of the cloud engulfed in a white flame. On these days, I imagine the Alps burning the feet of the sky in an attempt to free themselves of its clutches.
Some days, they retreat back, looking diminutive, unassuming and distant. On others, they advance, towering above the Zurichsee like gods on Olympia, reminding us they have the power to unleash torment upon us.
We are here by their permission. They are everlasting; we are but visitors.
For now, their icy walls have gone up, and until the ski season truly gets underway they will remain locked. I look to them every day, wondering what their mood will be, waiting for the next chance to explore them.
We’re now two months into living in Switzerland and already I have discovered so much about this place, myself and ourselves. I want to document that more regularly.
I am toying with the idea of moving my content over to Substack. I’d like to share pieces like the above once a month, possibly alongside some additional information like our move to Switzerland, curious places we’ve found, and gear reviews.
I will see where those thoughts lead me but, for now, I hope you enjoyed this piece!
Ross Runs Wild 