apAdventures

Ivan likes to count things when on a trip. Usually it’s vehicles, like Escape Vans, Teslas or Cyber Trucks. Occasionally it’s more intensive subject matter, like steps on a hike (not even kidding). On this trip to Switzerland he found his thing to count right away: Glaciers!

This day hike to Steinsee Lake below the Steingletscher (stone glacier) contained one of 16 glacier sightings along the trip. 16!!

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Like any good climber fully dedicated to his or her sport in all aspects, we started off our climbing road trip with a healthy dose of drinking and partying with Grit and Manu’s neighbors late into the night before we left. Needless to say we got off to a late start the next day. But no worries! Switzerland is packed with all kinds of climbing options within just a couple hours drive (or less!) and the sun doesn’t go down in summer until almost 10pm. Win win. And our climbing performance wasn’t too shabby either. 😁

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On account of the bad weather delay but still wanting to squeeze the spirit out of Plan A, we opted to cram three days of hut hiking into two. This meant no second night of hut sleeping, but a whopper of a second day hiking.

After waking in the Bluemlisalp Hutte to the delight of actually having slept through the night despite being on a top bunk bed that slept 9 other people (yes, you read that right: one mattress, 10 people. Same below on the bottom bunk. Stay in your lane sleepers!), I made my way down to the all-gender bathroom to relieve myself, brushed my teeth and splashed some ice cold water on my face, icy cold being the only option. Back upstairs the dining room was serving a traditional Swiss breakfast of yogurt and muesli, bread, jam and stinky cheese, with plenty of coffee. We ate up, exchanged our hut-provided crocs for our still-wet shoes down in the “drying room,” filled our bottles with a choice of either water or herbal tea, strapped on the crampons and embarked upon our decent. 

Our route for the day would take us down into a lush green valley, up a long rocky moraine to the toe of an active glacier, with more glaciers hanging precariously above and the trail marked with warning signs to move fast, then up the other side of the moraine and valley to a saddle with an epic view of the Eiger, and then down, down and further down to the very bottom of the next valley over, the Lauterbrunnen Valley, the hotspot for anyone that knows anything about BASE jumping. Ah, and did I forget to mention that our route would include ladder climbing, nervy cable clutching, and a rest stop at a mountain farm that serves the best vanilla milkshakes in the universe? And also a train ride home that we would sprint up stairs to catch (after 9,000 feet of downhill hiking!) to thankfully find a little girl holding the door for us and the bar car to our immediate left after stepping aboard? 

Dang was the spirit of Plan A squeezed good! And my thighs agreed, thanking me plenty over the following few days. 9,000 feet! Ouch! 😬

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Open the map and pick out a multi-day through-hike. Pack a small backpack with only the essentials, a few warm layers, some water, day snacks, and tons of sunscreen. Take a train and maybe also a bus and perhaps a cable car to the trailhead. Start hiking uphill, straight uphill, like literally up a mountain….or three. Pass some glaciers. Pass farm animals in places that one wouldn’t think farm animals could be. Pass or be passed by fit and smiling people. Take care not to step off trail and slide and tumble to your death. Debate on whether or not it’s finally time to pull the crampons out. Re-apply the sunscreen, again. And eventually reach the day’s destination: a hut that feeds and sleeps dozens of people, and serves beer in hefty glass Swiss mugs.

Hut hiking is quite the experience to say the least!

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The Prealps region refers to the smaller mountains and hills at the foot of the High Alps. Due to significant snow in the forecast, we needed a Plan B to launching out on a backpacking trip in the High Alps. Grit and Manu decided to take us on one of their favorite ridge traverses around the Gantrisch Mountain area near their home. Snow in the High Alps though means rain in the Prealps. But we are prepared, all the way down to the rain pants. Yes, rain pants! I thankfully took Grit and Manu’s advice while packing and bought us each a pair on a very dry and hot 110 degree day back in Tucson. The rain did indeed eventually come just as we were making our way to the cheese house, followed by a furious but short bout of snow. Yes, a cheese house! A little hut stocked with cheese made from the milk of the cows, goats and sheep grazing happily and living the good life along the trails is not at all unusual here, we learn. Leave your Swiss Francs and take a block. Delightful!

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“You just have to be a strong swimmer.”

In my jet-lag fog, this is the only sentence that registers in my brain as our friends share with us the fun plan they have lined up for our first day in Switzerland.

“…what the locals do on a hot day, fast current, just stay away from bridge pillars and the edge, tourists die every year, exit before the power plant turbines, SO FUN…”

Wait, we’re doing what exactly?!

According to Google AI (which I opted to read now, as I write this, not before myself and my family jumped in) ‘Swimming in the Aare River in Bern, Switzerland is a popular recreational activity, especially in summer, but it’s important to be aware of the river’s current and potential hazards. While the water is generally clean and safe for swimming, it’s crucial to be an experienced swimmer and to take necessary precautions.’

We arrive in Bern by train and head straight to the river, passing by a perfectly harmless and inviting outdoor public pool. As soon as the river comes into view we Americans all gasp audibly. The river is really moving. “Holy shit!” Paul blurts out. We watch people whiz by. I see ‘exit’ signs, warning swimmers on how many meters they have left before they need to exit. I watch an old lady reach out to a railing and hoist herself out of the current, clearly a local that’s done this before.

The swiftness of the blue-green glacier-fed river is memorizing, and irresistible. Silas and Paul decide to take a short test run with Manu and his son Rio. They jump in, sail past us a few hundred feet, and then paddle hard to an exit canal. “AWESOME! It’s not that hard! C’mon, you gotta try it!!!” Ivan and I agree that this looks way too fun to pass up. Let’s do this!

With the exception of little Rosa, we all walk up river for a nice long swim. We find a lesser-threatening launch off point. We wade in a couple feet until we can feel the current wanting to take us off our feet, then jump in, paddling hard to get away from the rocky edge. And…we’re cruising! Fast!! Awesome is right! We glide under a bridge, steering clear of the pillars and potential jumpers. We bob along past spectators and other swimmers taking a break on the bank. We attempt to swim up-river against the current just to see how hard it really is (impossible). And before we know it the joyride is over. I see the final exit sign and get positioned next to Ivan, making sure he’s seeing it too. We approach the exit canal, paddle a few hard strokes through the current to get into it and then grab the first ladder, letting the current pull us sideways, giggling our heads off.

Confirmed. The locals really like know how to have a good time on a hot day!

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Greetings from Switzerland! We are a six days into our two week stay here, having wild adventures with our wild Swiss-German friends. The most challenging part of this trip so far is not the jet-lag or the language barrier or the confusing train system, it’s deciding which wild adventure to do next. Shall we swim the river again with a current so swift that a bridge pillar could be deadly and an exit is required before you get chopped up by power plant turbines? Or venture out on a ridge traverse with a threatening snowstorm in the Pre-Alps? Or how about spending another night in a Swiss Alp backcountry hut, eating, sleeping and using the bathroom with 80 other people, all snug and cozy and stinky? Ah, so many decisions.

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Ivan had decided what adventure to do for his 13th birthday the day after Silas’ 13th birthday. His mind was made up and there was no negotiation. If we hiked Rim to Rim of the Grand Canyon for Silas’ 13th birthday, we were going to hike Rim to Rim to Rim for Ivan’s 13th birthday. Trying to put myself in Ivan perspective, the kiddo who walked South Rim to North Rim at age 10, just another family member along for the ride, I suppose it made logical sense. From my perspective though, Rim to Rim to Rim was big. Really big. Perhaps too big?

The shortest route across the canyon is 21 miles via the South Kaibab and North Kaibab trails. If one starts on the South Rim, the drop down to the Colorado River is 5,000 feet in 7 heinously steep miles. From there it’s a 14 mile and 6,000 foot climb to the North Rim. In the month of April all amenities and vehicular access to the North Rim are still closed for winter. So if one were to embark on a South Rim to North Rim endeavor at this time of year without backpacking gear, there is no bail out on the North Rim. No shuttle bus ride back. No emergency cabin rental and steak dinner. There is no choice but to kiss the North Rim goodbye, turn around and repeat every step back to the South Rim. 42 miles and 11,000 feet gain/loss in a single push seemed a little much for a “family day hike.” This is an adventure reserved for fit elitists, trail runners, adults, a bucket list item. Paul and I waffled on the idea a bit, trying to come up with some other big but not quite-so-big alternative. No alternatives stuck though. The Canyon was just too irresistible. R2R2R was it.

I booked our accommodations and put together a training plan. As The Birthday rapidly approached I had to revise the plan a couple times due to our busy schedules keeping us from executing it fully. We cranked mileage, then elevation, then mileage plus elevation. We dialed in what to carry, what to eat…and what not to eat. We cycled through all the forgetful scenarios (which we like to say ensures they won’t happen on the big day): Ivan forgets his hat and needs to borrow dad’s sunglasses to combat the blazing desert sun. Mama forgets her warm long sleeve and freezes all day up on Mica where the high is below freezing and we’re walking though snow. Silas forgets his headlamp (like 4 times!) and has to walk in the dark. Actually, he didn’t really forget it. He lost it and we refused to buy him a new one because we knew he didn’t look hard enough for it. And I’m sure Paul must have forgot something at some point, but just didn’t tell anybody. We pushed climbing to the back burner. We honed the 3am alarm wake-up. We cycled AC/DC’s Thunderstruck. And we kept the big plan mostly to ourselves so that no one could talk us out of it. Well, most of us kept it to ourselves that is. Ivan couldn’t help but announce it to his entire middle school class and teachers, also sharing with them every mind-blowing training hike we did leading up to it, while promising to me that he was definitely not bragging, just sharing. Ivan’s psyche was not containable. He owned this wild idea.

Before we knew it the big day had arrived. At 3am Friday morning the alarm goes off. Silas is so psyched he actually wakes up at 2:57 and eagerly awaits 3 minutes that take an eternity to pass (his story, not mine. I swear). We get dressed, grab our day packs and jump in the van. While there is an access road directly to the South Kaibab trailhead it is not one that you can park at, so we park where all the other hikers, backpackers and runners have parked and trek the flat and paved mile-ish over to the Rim. Dropping in we immediately see clusters of “fireflies” below us, both near and far. The trail runners have descended, their headlamps casting soft white glows in the depths. We work our way down the steep mule-divoted steps, the occasional group of trail runners passing us. No sooner does the sun come up and we get to turn our headlamps off do we arrive at the bright green Colorado River.

Done with the relentless downhill terrain at last, we switch to cruise mode. And cruise we do. We speed past Phantom Ranch, where everyone is still snoozing. We speed up “the catacombs” – our name for the never ending shear-walled corridor of twists and turns carved centuries deep by Bright Angel Creek. We speed into and through the broad portion of Bright Angel Canyon, so broad that it’s easy to forget that you’re still in a canyon. We stop for lunch at a well placed picnic table under one of the biggest Cottonwoods I’ve ever seen in Cottonwood Campground. The campground is completely empty. The Cottonwood is in full neon-green spring bloom. Silas and I check the time. Wait what?! It’s only 9:15am? We’re 14 miles in and hours ahead of schedule. Our goal was to finish R2R2R in under 24 hours, with a stretch goal of 22. At this rate we had 22 in the bag. It dawns on me that we are going too fast to be able to witness the ‘river of stars’ down in the narrow-walled catacombs at night. We might actually get through that section again before full nightfall.

Back on the trail and we’re speeding past Manzanita Rest Area. Now here is where the going gets tough up to the North Rim. We slow our pace slightly, but only slightly. “Stop pushing the pace Wonder Woman!” Silas grumbles at me. Throughout the day we each have our moments of lower than usual psyche. This is Silas’ moment. We weave our way up the switchbacks and through the carved out ledges of trail in shear walls where a trail should never be. We finally start seeing pine trees and feel the coolness of a cold spring day and know we’re nearing the Rim. Silas pops a whole package of gummies and rockets to the front of the pack, pushing the pace up the final switchbacks of pine needle cushioned trail. When we did South Rim to North Rim for Silas’ Birthday it took us 11 hours. We smash our prior record and top out in 9 hours.

There are two other parties on the North Rim when we arrive – a newlywed trail runner couple that we had been leapfrogging since the catacombs, and another group that had hiked from Phantom Ranch. Everyone gushes the kids with compliments first, and then follow with Paul and I for doing the adventure family-style (and this continues as the day marches on). The two groups eventually drop back in down the trail. Soon it will be our turn. For weeks I was mentally preparing for this turnaround point – the point where we turn around and repeat all the hard work that we had just accomplished, for fun. Years ago for a wedding anniversary celebration Paul and I did South Rim to North Rim, slept in a cabin on the North Rim, and then returned North Rim to South Rim the next day. This wasn’t that though. No intermission today. “Let’s motor boys.” We strap on our packs, snap a photo in front of the trailhead sign (for proof), and drop in. Not surprisingly, all four of us are psyched as all getup. What was I worried about?! Lol.

Cruising down the cliff cutouts below the North Rim, I can’t decide which I like best: the views down-canyon as we descend, or the views up-canyon during our ascent a few hours before. I have declared many times over the years that this segment of trail between the North Rim and the Manzanita Rest Area is my favorite segment of trail of all time. And today I’m seeing it twice! What a treat! I snap a ton of photos, likely in the same spots I snapped on the way up. We’re in cruise mode again, clicking off the miles one after another. Ivan starts in with his dry humor, sharing jokes and phrases he’s been holding out on all day until the right moment. The broad portion of Bright Angel Canyon is gorgeous at sunset. We realize we will definitely make it to Phantom Ranch before dark. I will miss my ‘river of stars’ for sure. Eh, not a bad problem to have, I decide.

We arrive at the edge of Phantom Ranch and dig out our headlamps. Mine is doused in pickle juice, dang it. Our packs are a mess of sweat, dirt and garbage. We flick on the lamps and make our way past the cabins and cantina, hearing happy hushed voices of campers getting ready to tuck into their cozy sleeping bags for the night. Meanwhile here we are mentally preparing ourselves for the hardest segment yet, the relentlessly steep 7 miles back up to the South Rim. And here I thought turning around at the North Rim was going to be the psychologically challenging part! Ha! We all agree out loud, “Yup, this is pretty grim.”

“C’mon boys! This is what we trained for! Uphill is our bread and butter!” Wonder Woman is back as we cross the Black Bridge across the Colorado and start the uphill trudge. Our pace is dramatically slower than at any other point in the day but steady. Steady is good. “Slow and steady wins the race!” I can sense the eyes of all three boys rolling at my overused mantra. We leapfrog again with a group of 4 male trail runners. All of us on the trail right now are equals, all stopping for breaks on this last bit of a R2R2R day. The group showers my kids with compliments. We all smile and let them by and then flick off our headlamps. Wait for it – our eyes adjust to the dark and the sky transforms from a few speckles of stars to a sea of stars. A sea is a lovely alternative to a river I think to myself. We repeat this ritual many times up the long 7 miles. And it becomes both mine and Ivan’s favorite part of the entire adventure.

We’re finally about 2ish miles from the Rim. Earlier in the day Ivan had done some math in his head on how we had prepared for other trail adventures, and how the gap in mileage from what we trained versus what we were embarking upon compared to this adventure. “The last two miles will be the death zone” he declared, backing it up with all his mental calculations and math. He had lost Silas completely in his rationale, and I refused to do math while hiking. Paul followed it though and agreed that he could have a point. Well, Ivan-math or not, we know now that he was 100% right. These last 2 miles are pretty dang hard. Not so hard to the point where one of us is going to sit down and refuse to go on. No, we’re all committed and capable of getting to the top. We’re just a bit out of our cruise mode here. I take comfort in the fact that after walking 40+ miles, it’s just these last two that are bothersome to us all. We trained up well.

I focus on carefully placing one foot in front of the other, reminding the family to hug the trail, sensing the airy vastness past The Edge. Wonder Woman is at the back of the pack now. Ivan is leading the charge. Is he getting faster or am I getting slower? Silas and I choke down a caffeinated Gu with effort. Paul is nauseous. Step up, step up, step up. Switch back, switch back, switch back. Fireflies appear again, only this time above us, in the sky or on the trail? It’s hard to know where they’re at, or where we’re at. The fireflies get closer and turn into trail runners. The next shift is starting work for the day. “Nice job! Nice job! Almost there!” they all cheer as they pass. They know exactly what we’ve been up to all day. Step up, step up, step up. Switch back, switch back, switch back. A familiar stone wall suddenly appears in front of us and we are shocked with the realization that we’ve made it. We’re stepping up the last step to the South Rim. It’s just past midnight, 20 hours from when we started. We did it.

Awesome idea Ivan. Happy 13th Birthday kid.

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Starting from Douglas Spring Trailhead and approaching from the west (versus the north like we did last time), and with a nab of Spud Rock along the way, we had ourselves a delightful 28 mile day with 6k ft elevation gain. I have been asked many times over the years as to whether I’ve done a marathon. No, I have not. But does this count? 😉

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20 miles, 6.5k ft gain.

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