Man vs mountains (spoiler: mountains win)

Imagine you live with your family in a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere, perched a little below the tree line of this massive steep hill.

 You're settling for a meal with your loved ones on the wooden porch in the last light of day, 3 dogs contendly sit waiting at your feet for scraps, beef burgers sizzle on a barbecue you're tending. Dusk is falling when suddenly your dogs, as one, turn to look toward the summit. Senses attuned to something...other. the forest suddenly turns silent...

Out of the forest and the gathering gloom lurches a creature from nightmare. A pallid, overweight irish man in running shorts and sweat slicked tee shirt bellowing 'FEED ME! ' from his cracked dehydrated lips as he lumbers towards your home, arms outstretched...

Probably should give yee some context here..

The last few days I had been following part of the Jura crest trail, a beautiful path following the jura mountains (more foothills of their larger Alp cousins really) in a sweeping south westerly arc from near Zurich to Geneva.

While this carried me a bit south when I mean to ultimately go north, during the planning stages I reckoned that the added visual beauty, amenities and resupply opportunities outweighed the added distance.

This is because during the planning stages I was an idiot.






While it's a beautiful trail and gives some stunning views (particularly of the alps) I had totally underestimated how much the added vertical element would slow down the distance I could cover in a day. It was also the first time I really understood that failure to complete the journey before school starts was a distinct and, thanks to me now 'going public' , embarrassing, possibility.



I would not look so smug if I knew the path would then take me up another, higher, hill...


 Drinking water had also become a real problem as, unlike on most swiss trails, above a certain point it became very scarce. I was carrying 3 lies of water but would tear through this very quickly while ascending.

That all being said, things were going ok till the day I ran into Balthsal (hereafter refered to as 'the enemy'.

In and of itself it's not a massive obstacle; a 1200 meter anthill in comparison to the titanic alps visible from the enemy's vile summit. But the steep 800 meter climb to it's top came later in the day after another steep climb of around 600 meters and several hours of long walking. I can already hear my more mountainy mates snickering from their high hides at this point but to someone from the more "pizza and netflix" end of the fitness spectrum, the enemy proved to be a worthy foe and right git, especially with a heavy pack and in the sweltering heat.

By the time I reached the top I had demolished all 3 liters and was still parched. Still mission accomplished,  onwards and upwards... Till I reached the crest.

Normally most of these ridges I'd met so far were a combination of forest, livestock pasture and small meadows, the latter of which (provided one is stealthy and discrete) you can find a place to pitch your tent from dawn till dusk, not so the enemy. The crest was a knife edge with one steep side thickly forested, the other side steep. Just steep. A drop off to nothing.

I couldn't find a 2 square meter patch of flatness on which to pitch my tiny tent but with no water this wasn't really an option anyway.

On this relatively high place, I hit my personal nadir; I had no water, was footsore and exhausted, had nowhere to make my bed (let alone lie in it) and (sorry if this is too much information for yee) things had started to chafe. Things that should never be allowed to chafe.

Dispirited, reluctant to surrender hard won altitude but ultimately cognizant of the madness of a waterless night on bare mountain, I decided to take the next non-vertical path to a lower elevation and get myself some water and a place to sleep.

Easier said than done. In the juras you are never more than a couple of hours from civilisations you can't go too wrong.

Turns out I was a couple of hours from civilisation. A couple of waterless, exhausted hours of misery with darkness coming on fast. (Quick side note: smart, organised people with sharp planning and an appreciation for what it means when all the contour lines on a map combine together don't find themselves in situations like this. I, however, am not one of those people).



A way out of dodge did present itself in the form of this (see artist's impression: I've was too petrified to take a photo for yee). A series of narrow, slanted, slippery detritus-strewn switchbacks precariously descending a 70 degree slope with no guard rail. At one point there was a rope to hang onto, at another, more worringly a plaque with 'class of 2010' enscribed on it. I only hope it was the "mountain safety engineers" class of 2010 and not, as the path would suggest, "montessori make and do project" class of 2010. 



As many of yee may know, I'm not a big fan of heights and was fairly shaking by the time I reached the bottom.

 This was also the first time since starting that I thought to myself "I might not be able to do this".

At this point, awesome people happened..

That family from earlier that i now ran into while they were about to eat their dinner turned out to be incredibly kind and helpful. Maybe they're used to unprepared idiots bumbling out of the mountains all the time.

In any case not only did they fill my water bottles, give me a glass of coke and invite me to share their meal (politely declined) they directed me to the nearest mountain hotel/lodge. Even more, realising it may be closed, they rang the owner... who, though he had shut for the night, returned to open the gaff for his one guest.

Thanks to the kindness of strangers I now had my own overlook hotel in which to recuperate for the night.



On the morrow I would lay my plans to defeat mountains...