The Open Road

Circling the lakes and clamoring over mountains and completing a goal I set out to accomplish seems a fitting time to bring the blog to a close. Currently I am in Lucerne and Switzerland decided to give me one last surprise this Easter morning:

I still have three weeks left of my trip to be spent in Italy with espressos and red wine and cheese and tomato sauce and roman ruins and renaissance art and far from a computer as possible. Though maintaining this project was one of the many positives of this trip.

There are numerous events I can recall on this journey that have and will continue to leave an impact and I shall remember for quite a long time. And encounters and sights and moments that only a mental picture could capture and words could not describe. I will say of the many things associated with this adventure three stand out at this moment:

Through the vulnerability of travel to a distant countryside where the tongue is not understood and the customs are different you learn and accept and grow. Pushing oneself on long hikes with heavy weight through rugged terrain and rain and snow is voluntary and may seem unneccesary. Yet through it character matures, the will becomes stronger, and a patience and calmness develops that moves beyond the confines of the trail.

That people are good and more than willing to offer up a coffee and a breakfast, a dinner and some beers, or even a floor and a couch to help one out along their way. All they ask in return is a simple conversation, to get to know one another at this moment and place. Special thanks to Breda and Tom and the rest of the family for their extreme generosity and nursing me to health during a time of sickness, Cormack for drinks and dinner and Crusade discussions, Cara and Ryan for letting me stay at their loft and Ryan for finding some good eats and better drinks, and to Magalie, Linde, and Samuel for the experience of the Camino and as gracioues hosts in Antwerpen.

Finally there is a greater appreciation of home, those people called friends and family and those places of familiarity and comfort. And that no matter where I roam to next, what great journey lies ahead, that home will be there for return.

I will leave you with the transformation of a mild, civilized yound adult into a barbaric wild man, the result of The Open Road:

The morning breakfast further confirmed this to be the right choice. A spread of cereals and yogurt, croissants and toast, with helpings of jam amd cheese and prosciutto and coffee. And of courde chocolate. Chocolate and cheese are the Swiss cornerstones and I have been rapacious in my consumption of both. If you come, eat plenty.

The essentials

Another foggy day but I rather enjoyed it. After mostly sun the first week here, the fog gives the mountains and lakes and villages a different look and feel. First climb today brought me to the small chapel of St. Jost. Built over 250 years ago on the side of a mountain, it lies in a field of wildflowers and couldn't fit more than 50 people inside and murals are terribly faded on the walls. But the simplicity of the building in this setting was perfect.

Leaving the churh back into the foggy woods I felt inspired, like I have many times in nature, the presence of something greater - whether that be a religion or the enormity of a landscape. And this feeling carried over into the beautiful and eerie forest. Damp from the fog, you could see no more than 20 feet in front as you strolled 1000 meters above the sea. What an experience. That night stealth camped once again outside of a small village, on a peak overlooking Stanstad.



St Jost church, my favorite of the trip

My original plan was to finish out rounding the Lake Lucerne region with an ascent up Stanserhorn, piercing the sky at 1900 meters. I climbed several ridges and peaks in the past couple days at 1100 and 1200 meters and felt confident with less weight in my pack I could manage the additional climb. But I needed help. First for enough sun over the past week to melt a good amount of snow still at the top of the mountain. Second for clear skies so as to be able to see at those altitudes, fogginess would make it impossible to ascend. Third for no rain to keep the trails sturdy and not to slippery. None of this happened, Stanserhorn wrapped in mysterious-looking clouds and fog, a rain clattering to the ground as I began my morning.

Like so much else that came before on this trip, I changed plans and adjusted course to now set my sights on Lucerne to finish this long 'motherfuckin' hike. It too would be trying - there was rain, and the complexities of suburban signs, and when you let body and mind relax on the last day even a small hill feels strenuous. Unlike the Camino, where I felt physically drained but mentally strong, the arduous hikes in the Swiss mountains left me stronger than ever to hike steep trails and maintain at high altitudes, but the constant ascents and descents, the rain and cold alpine nights in a tent, well mentally it would be hard to rally myself for another day. This is what I sensed greatly and I neared the end and was so very much relieved when Lucerne came into focus.

Stansehorn shrouded in myth, next time, next time

The profoundest quote from John Muir talks not of the excitement of venturing into nature, but rather why we continue to do so: "I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown; for going out, I found, was really going in."

I hoped for a rest day in Brunnen but only allowed to stay at the monestary one night for pilgrims should be on the move. Decided today would then be a short hike to Sisikon. After a breakfast of toast and cheese and coffee with one of the nuns, I headed onto the Swiss Path that cuts through an area where William Tell lived and the Swiss Confederacy was formed - the hollowest ground for the Swiss.

Far more gradual climbs and descents than the previous days and took my time to glance out at the scenery and sing a couple tunes - Dylan's Quinn the Eskimo, Tool The Patient, and Queen Bohemian Rhapsody. Made it to town fairly early. The campsite was right on the water , a blessing and a curse. The wind was incessantly strong and nothing, nothing irritates me more than a hard, constant wind especially when putting up a tent and after many failed attempts yell out "For fuck's sake." Anyway once getting the tent up realized quickly it wasn't going to sustain and with a more leveled head found a better spot further back from the lakeshore and behind several RVS. There I sat with a prosciutto sandiwch and crackers and nutella.


Initial campsite view

Like the Camino, the Swiss Path changes dramatically. The day following Sisikon found me on the side of a mountain and near the lakeside walking through a prarie-like environment and past several towns some industrial and some artsy. The best part though was walking through these tunnels that wound through the mountains that led to Bauen. Though manmade, from the inside they looked like natural caves and were extensive. At times put the head lamp on to see where to step. A variety of landscapes indeed.


The Swiss Trail marker

Thinking man's beard

These catch falling rocks

The tunnels

Staked a spot to camp just outside of town and found a cafe for a tea followed by two strong German beers. Actually the first beers since Antwerpen and on a light stomach felt nearly drunk from these beasts and made it all the easier to sleep.

The final day on the Swiss Trail was a challenging one. Awoke to a light rain so strapped the trash bag over the pack and the rain jacket on and proceeded uphill into the foggy forest. When it showers in the forest it sounds like a downpour and you feel as soaked as if you been in one. Everything was drenched after a short while, and wetness was now through both jacket and clothes. Ascending into higher altitudes it was getting cold. Only thing to do was push on ahead at a faster pace to get to the nearest town six km away. Did the climb in hour and half and in this darkest of times when literally freezing with dampness came upon a large public restroom in the woods just outside of town. Off came the wet clothes, on came dry ones and the jacket and garbage bag were left in the sink to dry out while I warmed up under the hand dryer and ate a bit and frankly got myself together.

A restaurant was nearby and a coffee followed by tea further warmed the insides. Considered taking the train to get back down to the valley but the rain dissipated as I drank inside and so I walked pensively into the murky woods. The rain relented for the rest of the day as I hiked over hills and pass green valleys and between birches and pines and furns. Clothes, body, and mental health were grateful for this outcome.

Two nights camping, three days no shower, and this soaking meant a room and a warm meal and hot shower and good night rest. I received all of the above at this quiet bed and breakfast on the edge of Beckenreid and even more use of a washer and dryer. I don't think I washed these clothes since England and when you deprive yourself of good sleep and regular showers and clean clothes, well access to each all at once is overwhelming. The road makes the simplest things into the greatest of joys.