and so I have these places I can return to, in my mind.
A few perfect places, or a point in time.
That is where I was today.
For one point in time, I was at the perfect place.
I really paid attention to it while I was there. You know, “being in the moment” and all that. I memorized it, burned it into my eyes.
I know I will be back there many times this coming year.
We walked east out of Kandersteg to the village limits, and took the Oeschinensee Lift up the hill. From the top lift station, it is about a ten to fifteen minute, easy walk to the lake called Oeschinensee.
Colored that sort of impossible-until-you-actually-see-it sort of blue, Oeschinensee is scooped out of the rock at the base of the Blüemlisalp Massif.
The low elevation (1575 meters or 5167 feet), the easy access via lift, the paved trail and restaurant right on the shore guarantee that this will be a crowded hell-hole of tourists, noise, splashing and revelry.
And it is all that.
But…
But. Go early, and go high above the lake, and for a few hours you can find that place to bury deep in your mind.
At this time of the morning the waterfalls are all running, but not yet roaring as the full sun starts to melt the snow and glaciers on mighty Blüemlisalphorn.
Isn’t that a beautiful name for a high, grey and black snow-covered peak?
There was still a sort of mist above the lake, and the early morning light made me squint and ruined the photos I tried to take.
We walked part way around the shore to a waterfall that poured off a ledge right to the water, then scrambled straight up the slope to a trail that led us high above the lake, over to the far end, above the cliffs.
The trail was rocky, steep in parts, and we crossed over creeks flowing fast and clean. We looked across at waterfalls, down on waterfalls, and waterfalls thundered above us. Splashing through rivulets of snow melt, crossing a bridge over a roaring creek fed by five waterfalls in a canyon above, jumping boulders here and there.
In some places the trail cut into the cliff, and cold water dripped down on us as we trudged by. We moved up even higher above the lake, above most of the trees, into a very green land. Snow patches covered the ground here and there, and the sound of water moving was everywhere.
Flowers, in small groups of yellow, red, violet, blue. Walking warm in the sun, chilled in the shadow of the trees, a shiver when the icy water hits my neck from above.
We were on the lower of two trails that head out of Kandersteg and up and over the Hohtürli Pass. If we kept following this trail, we could get to the Blümlisalphütte (Swiss Alpine Club Hut) in about 5 hours, or the village of Griesalp in a full day of hard walking. Mürren and Interlaken, the three major peaks of the Eiger Group lie another two days walk past that. In fact, this is exactly the route we are considering for a trip next year, or the year after that.
So this is not a secret trail, nor a hidden spot at all.
But the early morning timing is what did it.
Well, if you have been paying any attention at all to any of our hikes in the mountains of Europe, you should know what is coming up next.
Sure enough, about an hour or so up the trail, at the best possible spot high over the cliffs, over Lake Oeschinensee, we got to the little café called Bärgbeizli Underbärgli. Or maybe the name is just one of those words. I wasn’t too clear on it.
Anyway, there it is, tucked up on a hummock, high in the bowl under the pass; red umbrellas and warm wood, soaking up the sun.
I ordered a Weissbier (wheat beer, my favorite) and Gail got a “cappuccino milk shake” which sounded great until it came out and was really an iced cappuccino.
She liked it anyway.
So here we are. Sitting on a bright, sunny morning, at a red and wood café about 6500 feet up in the Alps.
The hike was literally breath-taking, the view more so.
No one is really talking, but it is not silent. The sound of water is everywhere. Cowbells clank faintly way way off. Water is falling all around us, below us, above us. Looking right, the Bernese Bear flag snaps in the breeze, the trail to the pass switchbacks up and up, snow fields feed waterfalls in the canyon.
Looking left, the mighty glaciers and black peaks of Blüemlisalphorn collect and release clouds.
Below us, the ultra-vivid blue of Oeschinensee is peaceful.
I sip my wheat beer, and watch the occasional hiker, some with big packs, trudge up the trail. SOme stop to join us, others press on.
Far far off and so faint, an Alpen Horn. Perhaps from the large yellow cafe across the lake?
It just doesn’t get any better than this.
And so we sat and sat, and I took it all in.
I was fully present in the moment.
I can close my eyes and taste the beer, smell the warm breeze, hear the water and feel the sun on my arms.
I can see it all.
And then we left.
The trail up was becoming crowded, Combo-Scout troops going up and down, the little café was getting packed. Down to the lakeshore, crowded now with people barbequing sausages over campfires, families picnicking, people swimming and renting boats to row out in the lake. Groups of tourists crowd the trail, the yellow cafe lakeside is open now and there is music blaring. I can hardly see the lake through the people, and it is time for us to leave, heading down on the lift.
But…
But for a while that lake was mine.
It cost me ten miles of hiking in the early morning, but the dividend will pay for years.
I will return to this lake, probably on Monday, the 15 of August, and regularly after.
Because this, for just an hour or two, this was the Alps of my dreams.
Here is the hike information.