The Confident Hiker

April 2017

I rediscovered my passion for multiple-day-hikes after a big change in my personal life. And interestingly enough (or maybe it is not even that surprising, given my “anything goes”-state at the time) I chose a route high up in the mountains, in a wild area in the Tessin that I had no real previous experience with, just because I saw a picture of that wild valley in Tessin on an advertisement of SBB. I did not go alone, but took my Cousin Joris with me into the wild valley of Onsernone.

This is not a hike recommendation – although it was hands down one of my most breathtaking hiking experiences so far – but rather a cautionary tale, that I wanted to share on this blog, which is why I think it is a good first entry. It highlights a paradox that at least I frequently encounter: wanting to be as high up as possible, feeling as if you can touch the sky but experiencing excruciating fear and panic at the same time.

We took an approach that I wouldn’t recommend, especially not, if you have certain “personal limits” while hiking (like a fear of heights): We very generously mapped out an area and a destination where we would like to end up and got in the train. We made our last decisions, where to get out in the crowded bus that drove on a very windy road through picturesque little villages until we reached the village of Comologno, close to the italian border. The idea was to hike to Monte di Comino and from there somehow make our way direction Intragna and ultimately end up in Locarno. We already knew that we would divide the hike from Comologno to Monte di Comino into two portions, given the late arrival time in Comologno. We didn’t want to rush the hike and enjoy the wilderness on the mountain.

Day 1: Comologno to somewhere on the mountain

We arrived in Comologno already relatively late (I think it was about 4pm), which did not stop Joris, to still eat a huge tupperware of Müesli. It felt almost, as if Comologno was the last village at the end of the world. As if all you would find past those few little cozy looking stonehouses was untouched wilderness. And once my dear cousin was done with his afternoon snack (I swear sometimes he reminds me of Merry and Pippin in Lord of the Rings), we ventured out into said wilderness. Passing by the little chapel, an old lady muttered “buon viaggio” and did the sign of the cross. It seemed a bit over the top at the time but maybe looking back, she saw two very naive young people heading towards a mountain top in April and thought ” they’re going to need all the prayers they can get” 🙂

After taking a selfie we started our descent into the valley past some content donkeys. I remember being full of enthusiasm and curiosity – one of the things I like particularly when exploring new hiking paths. Crossing the bridge over the wild river Isorno, all I could see was forest, mountain and adventure.

More or less right after crossing the Isorno, we started to ascend and let me tell you: that was not a little bit of going upward. My backpack weighed heavy and made the steep ascent just that much more taunting. And even though it was late afternoon in Mid-April, the sun was still burning hot. The first part of the ascent was, even though exhausting, beautiful and not scary it terms of height or exposed paths. It lead through this beautiful light forest, the path almost completely covered in leafs, that rustled with every step.

But the further up we went, the more narrow it became – left and right steep slopes. I remember my hands becoming increasingly sweaty and my heart starting to beat faster. At one point I was more crawling on all fours, rather than walking like a human being on two legs. I figured, that’s how the mountain goats and the donkeys do it, so I follow their example. But mostly it just felt safer, having branches and grass to grab onto with my hands. Joris was like a little mountaingoat himself compared to me, running and jumping over the rocks with ease, all while carrying this ridiculous huge foldable tent in addition to his backpack.

The path would every once in a while lead to a little “plateau”, where there was a bit more even space and therefore gave me space to breathe and relax. The point in an adventure is often also uncertainty and unpredictability. It was never clear, how the path would continue or where the next “plateau” would be.

The path would in a slalom-like manner lead upwards on what felt like the vertebrae of the mountain. Often it was barely qualifying as an actual path: narrow, brittle ground, roots growing out of the soil, loose stones… Adventurous it was for sure. Joris and me started this routine, that on the particularly exposed parts he would go ahead, put his backpack down, come back, get my backpack and stand on the side of the path, so I can pass with a little more ease. No wonder that the promised 6 hours from Comologno to Monte di Comino were absolutely unrealistic for us.

As the sun slowly started to set, we realized that we have to find another wide enough flat surface to put up our tent. Now, wildcamping is technically not allowed here but we decided that in April, nobody will come up here to fine us. Most importantly we promised to leave no trace, as one should! So at around 19:30, in the beautiful golden evening sun we set up our tent and cooked our dinner over our little gas stove top, warmed by our small fire.

The spot was beautiful and felt so safe and welcoming; In the far distance one could see the little lights of the village way below. The noises we heard in the night we attributed to bunnies or goats, our little neighbors for the night.

Click here to see the 1st section on “SchweizMobil” (keep in mind, that the end point is not a 100% accurate location)

Day 2: Somewhere on the mountain to Crana

The next day we intended to arrive at Monte di Comino, where we would take the cable car. A breakfast and a tripple check on our fireplace later, we continued the ascend and left this safe little haven of the previous night behind us. Full of newfound enthusiasm and courage and a lot of curiosity. The path was at times quite rocky and stayed challenging in terms of height and exposedness.

After a while of walking and climbing we reached the first patches of snow, which had me worried (but, looking back, should have really not come as any surprise). Nevertheless we went on – I noticed, that reaching a hiking sign with directions always gave me a new push to continue. So the hiking sign that told us that we arrived at Alpe Lombardone at 1588 m distracted from the snow and the idea, what snow on narrow exposed trails on a mountain can mean.

Alpe Lombardone was a fascinating place. To find those traces of civilization in an otherwise wild area, where you sometimes almost felt like you are the only people on the planet was special. The stonehouses were worn down, fallen apart and clearly not in use anymore. Being there gave me a certain sense of timelessness. I almost felt a desire to stay there, rather than continuing the path, but curiosity and the urge to arrive at the cable car made us pick up our hike.

The path continued to another highplateau and right there, I felt like I was on top of the world, close enough to reach up and touch the clear blue sky above me. It was (almost literally) breathtaking. Unfortunately it was right there, where we could not find the trail anymore. We walked up and down, desperate to find a white and red painted stone to no avail. Lost on top of the world.

Shortly before giving up, the path revealed itself to us after all, leading on the side of the mountain around what seemed almost like a mountain peak (studying the maps later, I now know it wasn’t), halfway buried under a layer of snow. With a growing bad feeling in my stomach we continued. The snow was soft and slippery, not providing any stability on the anyway already sloped path, on our right a steep slope. Now, I can’t say that this is the first time I had to cry out of sheer panic and the numbing feeling of my impending death due to an endless fall down the mountain. But somehow this moment of panic felt worse than the ones before. Crawling on all fours, grabbing onto little roots and bushes and crying every second of it, while Joris stood at the edge of the slope to give me a sense of security, I really felt that this might be it. The end of it. I crawled to the next secure flat surface, completely out of breath, exhausted and laced with a bad conscience to have put Joris through all this drama. While I started contemplating calling the REGA, Joris decided to follow the path on his own to see how it continues. Listening to “Any Other Name” by Thomas Newman on repeat, and occasionally typing in the REGA number on my phone – without calling – I waited for Joris to come back. I started to wonder, how I will come back down the mountain, if Joris would not return. Maybe it would then suddenly go very effortlessly? I I had to because there was no one else? I am glad I did not have to test that theory; Joris came back, reporting on a completely snowed over path on the side of the mountain, similar to the little piece we just did and – in my head – barely survived.

I think, this is where – very hesitantly – my sense of reason started to kick in. We have to turn around or we might actually not make it back down alive. Somehow I had to think of my grandfather, who had passed away a couple of years before and convinced myself that he was watching over his two grandchildren, urging them not to cut their adventure short but simply change the course of it.

And that’s what we did. Even though imagining to repeat all the horrible parts of the path tired and scared me – at least we knew what to expect. It did feel like defeat; I can’t deny that feeling. But I knew already then, that in the future I will be proud of us for knowing when to stop, when to tell our inner careless adventurer “enough”, even though he/she might still push for more. And I was right.

It felt strange to arrive back at the crossroads with the hiking sign pointing to the different directions where we stood not even 24 hours before; where we after a moment of doubt decided to continue the ascend. We chose the road to Crana, hoping it would not present any challenging paths.

While there were indeed still some small exposed parts of the way, they were doable – even for me. The bigger challenge was a lack of water and food. We had used up all our water and had to make it work with a little bit of leftover warm ricemilk. The path led through a beautiful shadowy forest, until it led to a long steep stairway down to the valley. While descending, we started to notice the pain in our feet, our shoes completely soaked from marching through the snow on the mountain. The descent was almost more exhausting than the ascent the day before. But what made it even worse was the knowledge, that everything we march down now, we will have to march back up again on the other side to reach the little village of Crana, all the while wondering, if and where we will find a place to sleep and eat for the night.

After a steep ascent on the other side of the Isorno, we reached a little house with a garden and – most importantly – a little fountain. Without thinking twice, we climbed over the fence and started drinking, hoping that no one will catch us. The couple living there did catch us and they brought glasses for us to drink out of, gave us a tour of their artsy, cozy house and confirmed that there is indeed a Bed and Breakfast in Crana.

We reached the B&B “A la crus”, hoping that there would still be a room for us. There was. And after a heavenly shower, we got to still enjoy what at the time felt like the absolute best food in the world. It was only then, that we started to really fully grasp what we had just done and how this might have gone differently. It was a beautiful end to an unforgetful day.

Click here to see the 2nd section on “SchweizMobil”

Day 3: Crana to Locarno

After a simple breakfast, we headed to the bus station, deciding that we will drive to Intragna and hike from there to Locarno.

We did not take any photos anymore. Which is not so tragic, given that the hike was relatively unspectacular. It was mostly flat, following rivers and big streets. Compared to the wild, unpredictable area of the two previous days I guess, it was hard to impress us 🙂 But it gave us time to talk about the hike and how we felt, all the way to beautiful Locarno, where we still enjoyed a lunch at the lake, before taking the train. Joris would get out earlier, to meet his girlfriend Tanja and enjoy some more relaxed vacation days in the Tessin.

I continued further back home to Basel listened to “Hard Sun” by Eddie Vedder while staring at the mountains that I passed by in the train, realizing that I just attempted to climb one of those a day prior. It felt unreal and still a bit crazy and highly irresponsible and yet it had (re)awoken something inside me; a desire to go out and explore those countless paths, leading to breathtaking views, letting my inner adventurer run wild…

Day 1: Comologno towards Capellone	Difficulty: T3 (Mountain hiking Trail) Length: 2.21 km Duration: 1:55 h
Day 2: to Crana	Difficulty: T3 (Mountain hiking Trail) Length: 6.74 km Duration: 3:41 h
Day 3: Intragna to Locarno	Difficulty: T1 (Hiking Trail) Length: 11.78 km Duration: 2:49 h