Via Alpina

Ueli and Ursi most generously offered to drive us to our trailhead in Stechelberg, a small village in the glacier-carved Lauterbrunnen valley- about an hour from Bern.

The plan was that from Stechelberg, Sharon and I would hike from mountain inn to mountain inn, emerging in Kandersteg 5 days and two high mountain passes hence.

Which is the way ultimately it worked out, but not without a bit of drama along the way.

Thanks to Linda, Sharon and I had our inn reservations, but we still had to get from one to the next.

Ueli and Ursi hiked with us from Stechelberg up to Hotel Obersteinberg, where we all enjoyed drinks on the rustic patio overlooking a panorama of peaks.

Sharon and I were both dragging. The hike had only been  3+ miles, but the 2800 foot elevation gain had taken a toll.

Our fatigue must have been obvious.

With a twinkle in his eye Ueli leaned over and noted that to cross the Hohtürli (pass) three days hence, we would have twice that day’s climb followed by a 4000’ descent.

At which point, Ueli and Ursi wished us well and looped back down to Stechelberg.

“Hotel” is something of a misnomer when talking about Berghotel Obersteinberg. It is a hotel, but a Swiss mountain hotel of 100+ years ago. No access roads. Supplied by mule and the occasional helicopter drop.

Above tree line, Berghotel Obersteinberg dates back at least to the 19th century. Guest books go back to the 1890s. Rumor has it that Goethe stayed at Obersteinberg in 1779.

That’s Sharon in the window under the eave.

When Linda confirmed our reservations for one of the few private rooms, the woman on the phone wanted to be sure that we understood that they didn’t have electricity.

We understood that dinner would be by candlelight, cold-water bathrooms would be down the hall, and that there would be no showers.

And we can now add that a big rock outside the kitchen served as the refrigerator and a small stream was used for (some) washing. Wash was weighed down with rocks and the tumbling water did the work.

While the Berghotel Obersteinberg was rustic, it was run as a tight ship nonetheless. Staff and owners worked hard, and I’d venture to guess worked long hours as well. Our room was tidy and the food was good.

And, the guinea pig was well cared for.

Not a pampered pet- but beloved nonetheless. A local. Not there for the tourists.

He seemed to spend the day outside free-grazing and then it was back to his caged outdoor alpine hut for the evening.

The owner of the Berghotel was a gruff hardworking Swiss guy.  He’d talk to Mr. G.Pig in a loud voice as he walked by- as if he were talking to one of his employees.

We went into one building looking for the office, just as a mule galloped by on the path right outside the door 10 feet away.

In itself, curious enough. Doubly curious in that in the split second he passed the open door, he had his head turned 90 degrees and made eye contact with us. One happy guy just off work.

And at that moment, at full gallop, he wasn’t watching where he was going.

Sharon and I stuck our heads out the door, and he was happily munching some flowers just around the corner.

Cartoon material.

We checked in, found our room and settled down for a well-earned nap. Uncharacteristically, I awoke well-rested almost immediately.

I didn’t want to disturb Sharon. Why not go for a short walk?

I slipped out of the hotel and headed up the trail towards (Lake) Oberhornsee. No goal. Figured I’d just wander along until it seemed time to turn around.

I harbored secret hopes that I’d see Steinbock, or Alpine Ibex, a species of wild goat that lives in the mountains of the European Alps.

Both male and female Alpine ibexes have large, backwards-curving, horns.

With no pack and a relatively level trail, I made great time to Oberhornsee. In less than an hour I was there. Oberhornsee is pretty much a glorified pond- but a very pretty turquoise pond, nonetheless.

On the way back, in the distance I spotted wild beasts working their way down from higher country. They had horns. Steinbock to me.

I passed a young couple heading up. We exchanged Grüezi’s.

As they were heading up and off, I added “Steinbock” and pointed up the trail where they were heading.

They looked back blankly at me.

I stuck my index fingers up on top of my head. They laughed and nodded.

Over dinner I told Sharon the story. She said she would like to see Steinbock too.

There was still a bit of light left in the day. Together we headed up the trail towards Oberhornsee. Who should be waiting for us on trail 5 minutes from the hotel?

Seven Steinbock.

When we got back to the Berghotel, a couple of our favorite Swiss girls were sitting outside on the patio, nursing their beers as the last light of the day played across the peaks.

“Steinbock” and they were off.

Sharon and I were relaxing in the semi-darkness, when the girls returned. They were most pleased that the Steinbock had let them walk right up.

One girl pointed to our little plastic wine bottle and said “SwissAir.”

We all laughed.

SwissAir hands out complimentary inflight mini-bottles of wine most generously.

Sharon, who is far more intelligent and farseeing than I, realized immediately that wine would be fun, after dinner, high in the Alps. And these bottles were sized perfectly for backpacks.

Each time, on our transatlantic flight, when asked if she wanted another, Sharon said yes.

Smart woman.

Our first two days of hiking in the Alps were to be a time to get used to the altitude, and sort out any issues with gear before the high passes.

That worked out.

Acclimatization was a success. Neither Sharon nor I had any real problems with altitude, our packs or our shoes at any point in our five days of hiking.

We would also get the chance to see how steep the trails could get and what sort of exposure or drop-offs next to the trail, we might encounter.

The trail up to Berghotel Obersteinberg was the wake-up call on elevation gain/ mile.

Our second day of hiking from Obersteinberg to Gimmelwald confirmed any and all of those misgivings and on top of that added slip-and-you’re-dead exposure.

And then there was the weather.

We had watched the weather reports closely in the week before we hit the trail. Our first day up to Berghotel Obersteinberg was pleasant enough per forecast.

Our second day would likely start out nicely enough, but deteriorate quickly late afternoon.

From thereon in, the weather looked dodgy at best. Which was exactly how it worked out.

Good weathermen in Switzerland.

On paper the hike to Gimmelwald was only about 3 hours. But that didn’t account for the  side trip up to the not-to-be-missed Tanzbödeli.

After a short climb up from the Berghotel, I knew we’d come to our first serious exposure. Check out the short video below. Love this guy’s comment “The fun view down.”

In reality, it didn’t look quite this vertigo-inducing. In any case, nothing that we hadn’t encountered before. We just walked on by.

I was still feeling pretty good when we reached the cut-off for Tanzbödeli. How bad could the 20 minute climb be?

Well, for 60-somethings who had neglected whole sets of climbing muscles in their flatland training: bad enough.

The photo to the left starts to give some sense of the challenges. Yes, this was called a trail. Those rocks are the way up.

Check out the drop-off behind Sharon. Those trees are small, not because they are, but because it’s a long way down.

And this was the good side.

As we approached Tanzbödeli, the trail swung close to a far worse drop-off. Both of us simply chose not to look as we climbed. This exposure put the video above to shame.

Tanzbödeli itself didn’t disappoint.  An intimate, flower-dotted, remarkably-level mini-dance floor with a 360 degree view of snow-covered peaks.

What you don’t see in the photo to the right is the 3500+ foot drop to the valley below,  between the far edge of the meadow beyond Sharon and the point where the peaks start to rise.

If those peaks look close, it’s because they were – about a mile away as the crow flies. The Lauterbrunnen Valley is like Yosemite Valley but with the peaks of Glacier National Park grafted onto the valley rim.

Spectacular.

Steep too.

I suppose there are trails in the Berner Oberland which aren’t steep, but we didn’t hike them.

Just about every trail we hiked either gained or lost about a 1000 feet in elevation- every mile. Some were even worse.

Like the rest of our day to Gimmelwald.

From Tanzbödeli we descended 2500 feet in about 2 miles. I say “about,” because Swiss trail signage measures distance in time. A very Swiss twist.

See the typical sign to the left.

The 2 Std. (hours) 10 Min. to Gimmelwald translates as the time- that folks in the know- believe a 65 year old Swiss hiker would take to cover this particular distance- on this particular trail on an average day weather-wise.

My first impression was that this system seemed, well, so imprecise.

On the other hand, there is a kind of fuzzy-logic beauty to it.

Distance in itself only tells part of the story hiking. Other factors, such as trail steepness, trail quality and so forth also must be accounted for. Measuring hiking distance by time accounts for innumerable factors.

As long as that 65 year old is consistent, which he seemed to be.

Sharon and I pulled into the Hotel Mittaghorn in Gimmelwald mid-afternoon, far worse for wear. That 65 year old typical Swiss hiker had left us in the dust.

Whole muscle groups just hadn’t been up to the vertiginous descent. We were both humbled and concerned about what lay ahead.

We lay exhausted on our beds and listened to the rain beat down on the balcony outside. At least it hadn’t rained on us.

That was for tomorrow.

I had read that some of the rooms in Hotel Mittaghorn had balconies. In making reservations, Linda went the extra mile, cajoling Walter, the gruff elderly (85+) owner into reserving us a room with a balcony.

A very tired Sharon on our balcony to the left.

When Linda called the Mittaghorn about our reservation, at first Walter said they don’t reserve any particular rooms for their customers, they just give them out as folks arrive.

However, she kept him talking, and charmed him into reserving Zimmer (room) 1 for us. Zimmer 1 is a room with a balcony and is usually for four people.

Linda went on explaining that we were coming from America and had never been in Switzerland and had never seen the Alps.  To this he replied,

“Ja, they all come from America.”

Which turned out to be true. We saw more Americans at Hotel Mittaghorn, than anywhere else in Switzerland.

There’s a very 21st century backstory which centers around Rick Steves.

Rick Steves is somewhat ubiquitous in the USA media : “America’s leading authority on European travel”. Suffice it to say he is well known: books, tours, radio, TV.  He even has his own PBS show, though I’ve never seen it. He comes across earnest, upbeat and clean cut. Maybe a little too much of all three.

The saving grace is that he is a smart guy with good taste.

Sharon’s German teacher says that he rubs her the wrong way, but she watches his show anyway, because she likes the places he goes.

Can you guess Rick Steve’s favorite Swiss village?

Yep Gimmelwald. And his favorite hotel in Gimmelwald?

Yep the Hotel Mittaghorn.

While it’s no doubt good for business having Rick Steves as a big fan, its probably something of a mixed blessing.

Which is probably behind Walter’s comment, “Ja, they all come from America.”

Should anyone be interested, here is a Rick Steve’s Smithsonian article on Swiss “Cow Culture” which features Gimmelwald. Steves packs a lot of interesting info in, but lays it on pretty thick.

The rain let up. Our spirits picked up and it was time for dinner. We trundled down the stairs.

Walter cooks, Rose Marie serves and Tim hosts. Quite the combination.

Dinner is family style. All guests eat together on a long table- with a bottle of wine every four people or so. Friendly, hardly fancy.

We didn’t see anything of Walter. Lots of food came out of the kitchen though.

Rose Marie is a local. Probably also in her 80s. Not much English. Short. On the stocky side. Kept dropping stuff. For some reason I kept thinking of the Addams family.

Tim is a Brit. A charming, smart, urbane guy. Easy going with a sense of humor. The hotel manager and the guy basically keeping the good ship Mittaghorn afloat.

My guess is that Tim is somewhere between 35 and 45. He spends part of the year at the Hotel Mittaghorn and part in India, Thailand etc.

He’s also apparently an avid paraglider and an extreme enthusiast. You’d never guess it on first impressions. He looks more like a software engineer

Our after dinner entertainment was a series of videos which gave me a clue.

Wingsuit flying. Very crazy intense stuff. 100+ mph. An inherently dangerous sport.

There is a death every couple of weeks in the Lauterbrunnen valley. Folks fly a bit too close to the cliffs or whatever.

Next up after wingsuit flying was our hike and the weather report. I had asked Tim earlier in the evening about our route and what the weather might deliver the next day.

Tim had terrain mountain modeling software loaded up on his laptop which fed to the big screen. He was able to show us all exactly what Sharon and I would be up against the following day. While orders of magnitude less extreme than wingsuits, his flyover for the Sefininfurge (pass) trail was far from reassuring.

After the show, one of our compatriots at the table leaned over and sympathetically asked, “Couldn’t you find another trail?”

Well no actually. It was Sefinenfurge or bust.

The weather report for the next day was showers. Tim added, probably in the afternoon.

Before drifting off to sleep, Sharon and I decided that if it was raining in the morning, we would retreat. If not, we would try for the pass.

We awoke to partly cloudy. After a hearty typically Swiss breakfast of cheese, bread, coffee, we packed up, checked out, and headed for the door.

Who should we run into, but Walter.

Curiously, I was in a good mood and complimented him on his hotel. “Nice hotel.”

Walter looked me in the eye and replied flatly, “Yes, We have nice views.”

In reality Mittaghorn was falling apart. Walter knew exactly where things stood.

My guess is that Walter sends his maintenance/improvement budget for the Hotel Mittaghorn to Ecuador and his favorite charities.

Over the past 20+ years Walter has donated $300,000+ to development aid projects in the Indio community in Ecuador. The money comes from America (USA) and he wants it to go back to the Americas. But to aid people less fortunate than his guests.

Noble sentiments, but the Mittaghorn window boxes would have been happier with flowers.

And we’d be happier once we got over the Sefinenfurge.

Rain we could deal with, but lightning was another matter altogether. Best to be over the pass, before the bad weather rolled-in in the afternoon.

The graphic to the right illustrates my well-founded concerns. We were starting in the lower left corner. The point at the top is the Sefinenfurge – An elevation gain of 3195 feet over close to 5 miles.

The signs said that the archetypical 65 year old Swiss hiker could get there in 5 hours. We were there in 4. Moral- fear and adrenalin trump bad knees and sore muscles.

Standing on the pass, was a relief of sorts. From where we’d come the clouds were rolling in. No thunder. No lightning.

The other side was fog- visibility 200+ feet or so.

Steep too. That pointy point on the top of the profile graphic above tells the story pretty well.

I was digging around in my pack for my fleece, while talking to Sharon.

“It would be better if I went down first, should you slip…”

I looked up, Sharon was already 100 feet down the other side, disappearing down into the mists.

Not the first time.

The descent from the Sefinenfurge to Pension Golderli was about 4000 feet vertical over 4 very wet miles.

The rain arrived in earnest about a half hour down from the pass. It was a bit eerie working our way down the mountain. Visibility came and went.

At one point the mist parted and we saw what looked like a chamois, a native goat-antelope, framed on a rocky knoll. Just as fast, the view closed and he was gone.

Streams were topping up. No one was around. We didn’t pass another hiker in either direction at any point all the way down.

At the first farmhouse we passed, the goats were huddled under the eaves and watched us as we sloshed by.

As we closed in on Pension Golderli, we passed this curious sign.

Illustrated local folklore. A hunter (the smiling little guy) sold his soul to the devil. In return for his soul, the devil would carry him up the mountain every day.

I could relate.

We arrived at Pension, or Berghaus Golderli around 5:00 PM- wet and weary.

We checked in, found our room, lay down for a few minutes, cleaned up, and went downstairs to a wonderful 4 course 4 star dinner included in the cost of our room.

The joys of hiking in the Alps.

The chef, Robert Schintzler, is the real deal. Trained in Austria as a chef, he has worked  as a chef in Austria, Germany, France and Spain.

His toughie-of-a-wife Alexandra put it bluntly. “Yeah, he’s a a good cook.”

Yep. 4 stars.

And yes Robert and Alexandra like big dogs.

Planning our hiking itinerary, I knew our hike over the Sefinenfurge would be tough and that the next hiking day – over Hohtürli [Pass] (9120 ft) promised to be even tougher.

My solution had been to schedule a day off at Berghaus Golderli.

Buena idea.

And that was before we knew about Robert’s cooking, how really exhausted we would be, or that it would be raining.

And rain it did. On our day off, we woke up to rain. Wrote postcards and sipped beer by the fire, while it rained in the afternoon. And talked to other hikers about the Hohtürli.

One very fit fellow maybe 10 years our junior was carefully reapplying waterproofing to his fine hiking boots, while he and I chatted.

I asked him about the possibility of snow on the pass. He looked over at Sharon, studying brochures, back at me and asked,

“Have you hiked much in the mountains?”

Translation: “You’re out of your league.”

It turned out that he was also heading over the Hohtürli, the next day.

As we were heading out the door the next morning I overheard him arranging transportation back down the mountain. He and his friends didn’t like the looks of the weather. No Hohtürli for them.

It wasn’t raining, but the day wasn’t done yet.

Sharon’s pack cover had gone missing. The kind folks at Hotel Mittaghorn had given us a garbage bag which Sharon had wrapped over her pack.

Out front of the Golderli, a group of 8 Swiss hikers was posing in front of the trail sign. Their guide, a macho type was in full control. Their gear was the best. They all looked to be in the best of shape.

A photo op right out of a mountaineering catalog.

Suffice it to say no one had a garbage bag wrapped over their pack.

No one of the group appeared to notice us. I wanted to look at the sign. So we waited.

Once they were off, Sharon and I wandered over to the sign and looked at what our challenge-of-the day would be.

Not good news. Though pretty much as expected and outlined by Ueli.

We were standing at the lower left in Griesalp at 4,493 feet. Our next bed was at [Lake]  Oeschinensee at the lower right center at 5177 feet.

To get there we had to pass over Hohtürli at 9120 feet.

A 4,627 foot ascent followed by a 3943 foot descent.

We had decided again, that if it wasn’t raining, we would go for it.

Technically it wasn’t raining.

I vaguely recall as we headed off, Sharon muttering under her breath, something to the effect of, “One of these days you’re going to kill us.”

To her credit, she led the way back up the road we’d come down 2 days before.

After maybe a mile or so, we were off on new trails. Comfortable farms and mountain homes quickly melted away.

We met a couple of brothers from England also heading over Hohtürli. They were doing the whole deal- the Via Alpina, the cross-Switzerland trail.

In their early 20’s, they soon outdistanced us.

In another hour the clouds engulfed us as we pushed above tree-line.

Rocks and mist. Visibility a couple of hundred feet. Snow patches too.

Check out the sign:

“Rockfall- please go ahead fast”

Sharon and I scrambled uphill over and between the boulders as fast as we could reasonably manage after just having climbed 3000 feet vertical in less than three miles.

Some rocks were the size of cars.

We emerged unscathed on the other side of this human bowling alley.

Shortly thereafter, Sharon stopped dead in her tracks. She was semi-doubled over when I caught up. Tears were welling up in her eyes.

Worst case scenarios flashed across my mind.

I carefully asked how she was doing.

Sharon answered , “I miss Yellowboy (our deceased and most-favorite cat). It just hit me.”

Mists.

True to form, in a couple of minutes, she was back to her feisty self and was off in the lead, up into the mists.

When we hit the semi-cabled-stairs I stopped to pop another ibuprofen. Aside from fatigue, my knees felt fine, but I was still worried- and better safe than sorry.

I’ll say one thing for Switzerland, they know how to make steep passes. The closer you get, the steeper they get.

There was still no visibility either up or down, but now that the trail had given way to stairs, I knew we were getting close.

After a dream-time stretch of stair-climbing, we were on top of Hohtürli, at 9114 feet- the highest point on the Alpine Pass Route. Unless of course you want ice cream.

In that case, it’s another 5 minutes of climbing to the Blüemlisalphütte, the Swiss Alpine Club hut just above the Hohtürli.

On the way up we met the brothers from England coming down. They had been through Hohtürli once before. They told us that if we had a view, it would be spectacular.

High, wide and wild.

They also complimented us on our time up the mountain.

As  we entered Blüemlisalphütte, who should be coming out, but the group of 8 Swiss hikers with their macho guide from Golderli. Sharon and I were in a great mood.

They looked right through us. Not a glimmer of recognition.

I suppose it could be that being near-elderly, we are near-invisible.

On the other hand, our ascent of Hohtürli on their heels, might not have rubbed the right way.

Either way- Quite amusing.

“Hut” isn’t the right word for the Blüemlisalphütte. It is a sophisticated operation with 138 beds, provisioned by helicopter.

In the restaurant, Sharon negotiated the ice cream buying- in German. Money was exchanged. The ice cream bars we wanted had to be hunted down.

Nowhere in the process was there a pause, question, or comment on where we might be from.

Kudos to Sharon.

The ice cream was tasty, but we still had the 3943 foot descent to [Lake] Oeschinensee ahead.

The photo to the right was taken on the way back down to the pass. That’s Sharon in the foreground with the poles. That’s the pass in the background in front of the rock outcropping.

Yes, both sides are that steep.

On our descent we passed a good number of hikers coming up. Not a lot of smiling faces, though. More like grim and determined. From age 8 to 68.

It finally struck me. No one had smaller packs than us. Not the kids. Not even those with more seniority.

Ultralight backpacking apparently isn’t big in Switzerland.

As Ursi confirmed later, from the Swiss perspective, better to be prepared for all eventualities. Pack size and weight- will be what they will be.

As we descended over broad slopes of scree, the low mists came and went.

We never got the big views, but we got the tease. Tongues of glacier emerged under the mists, but we never saw more of [glacier] Büemlisalpgletscher or the purported panorama of peaks.

After the scree, the trail wandered along a crest of the moraine wall, above a glacier-created scoop.

Then into a bowl of pastures and contented cows. Framed by waterfalls. Next up was [lake] Oeschinensee and the end of our trek.

Oeschinensee is photogenically famous. Rightly so. Turquoise, ringed by waterfalls and cliffs. Towering peaks above.

What the photo below doesn’t show is the cliff 20’ beyond the turnstile. If one were to jump off that boulder framed against the lake, one would die.

Thankfully the “trail” down the cliff is semi-cabled.

We hobbled into Berghaus Am Oeschinensee, far worse for wear. A couple of beers, and a dinner later, our spirits were up. We ate out on the patio overlooking the lake.

The sun had broken through the clouds. We had the best table in the house. We had the whole place to ourselves.

Folks were gone for the day. The last gondola back down to Kandersteg had departed.

There are only two inns on the shore of Oeschinensee. We had picked the smaller, quieter and simpler. Good choice.

We had heard that the sleeping accommodations in our inn were in one little house.  What we didn’t realize was that this little house would be so archetypically quaint/beautiful. In the photo to the left, Sharon is looking out over the lake from our room’s window.

And yes those shutters are working shutters with ingenious hardware. Sharon put them through their paces- to her great delight.

We had also heard that the kitchen and dining room were in another little building. What we didn’t realize was that this other little structure was the original inn- complete with a dining room which dates from 1880.

Ursi had most generously offered to come pick us up in the town of Kandersteg at the end of our alpine trek. We would be done the next day, mid-day. It was time to call Ursi.

I asked our most-entertaining waitress about cell phone reception. She said “spotty”, and offered us the use their phone back in the kitchen in the old inn. I found the phone, but a little old local swiss guy had beat me to it.

I retreated to the deserted dining room to wait my turn. The dining room is snug, with traditional wood paneling, a low ceiling, and lots of old skins complete with mounted heads on the walls.

This was a mountain place and had been for a long time. Folks, both people and beasts, had both passed through and lingered.

When the phone was free, my call went through. Ursi was most glad to hear from us.

I remember her saying, “That’s just great.” A couple of times. With an added, “Not many people have done what you have done.” Kind words.

We found out later that both Ursi and Ueli had been worried, weather-wise. They had been expecting the take-me-home call each day along the way- the call we almost made- each day.

That morning, they had even called Golderli, only to be told we had rolled the dice and headed off trying for Hohtürli.

Ursi and Ueli had hiked over Hohtürli themselves, in their youth- before the stairs & cables. As Ursi put it in her understated way, “The loose rock was tough.”

Without the stairs & cables we would have been dead meat.

The next morning Sharon and I awoke to sunshine sparkling on the lake- picture perfect with low clouds and high clouds framing snow capped peaks.

After a couple of “Grüezi’s” we sat down in the old dining room to a tasty breakfast of cheeses, meats, and breads.  The two other parties- a couple other tourists and some fisherman were all speaking Swiss German.

One of the fisherman was a 30-something Asian. He looked exactly like one of the tourists I see daily in Harvard Square, getting off those fancy Asian tour buses.

Except he didn’t have a camera, was speaking Swiss German, and had the body language of a Swiss local.

The world is getting smaller. In a good kind of way.

Halfway through breakfast, we heard cowbells.  A dozen or so beautifully groomed cows came strolling down the road. A couple lingered right outside our window. They were taking their time.

We were taking ours.

Weather permitting, Sharon and I had planned to rent a boat and row out on Oeschinensee.

Weather was permitting.

We were the first customers of the day. The guy taking care of the boats was the same old guy who had been on the phone in the kitchen the evening before. No flicker of recognition.

In character.

We handed him our receipt, he pointed us to a boat, untied us, and we were off.

I offered to row.

Sharon smiled.

The oars were heavier than I’d expected. With a light wind at our backs, in short order we were on the far side of the lake.

It was quite the panorama. We could see the trail we’d come down. Impressive.

We looked up at the peaks. Impressive.

I swung the boat around, and that light wind suddenly felt decidedly unfriendly.

Impressive.

Sharon smiled.

Huffing and puffing, I pulled us back up the lake. With a sigh of relief I pulled up to the dock. We hopped out and headed back up the hill to our packs.

It took us about a half second to decide to skip the last 3 miles of hiking.

We rode the gondola down the 2000 feet vertical to  to Kandersteg .

No regrets.