04.15.19

    We are walking through fields of low grass, over muddy roots, up and over different intersections of the "Wanderweg" throughout the majority of these excursions. It's a yellow blaze posted or sprayed in the more remote areas...although I'd hesitate to call anywhere in Switzerland 'remote'; just less- trafficked in certain parts. The spring rains have been frequent, since the week I arrived temperatures fluctuate wildly with cloud cover and various fronts moving over the mountains and hanging out around the lakes for a few days. I've never felt more of an instant color to the pastoral vistas depending on how many clouds were above. The mood itself lifts, as if Zurich and the surrounding villages take a collective sigh when the sun finally shows itself. The warmth saturates and the temperature rises all in a moment. Maybe it lasts for thirty seconds. Maybe a few days...but I know it's a waiting game. The real Swiss summer won't arrive until May...hopefully. And when those glorious days arrive, we'll have the big packs ready to go.
     That doesn't mean there isn't plenty to enjoy in the meantime. Virtually every hike we've done over the passed month has left me with deep appreciation for the country...the endless meandering brooks and wooden bridges. The little summits and lookout stations that allow distant wistful glances of the northern Alps curving around, all the way through France and Italy right the center of Switzerland toward the northern lakes which are all snow-melt and have fed the communities and livestock for centuries.
     The grades are immense in places and occasionally we'll follow an old 17th or 18th century cobblestone path leading straight up and over. I can't imagine pulling a laden cart much less my own 80L pack over some of these straightaways. Forget switchbacks. Maybe they were just a tougher lot, but I love passing through history on every outing. The great World War II Panzer blockades in dark silent rows. The hidden bunkers and armories all gathering moss.
    The outdoors are celebrated, expected, known to the senses. The weather gives and takes and the trails are full of families, elderly, tourists, anyone and everyone moments after a favorable forecast. Plans are implemented, supplies purchased, hiking shoes brushed off, bottles rinsed and away we go.
     We have to camp somehow. Fortunately, it's in a legal grey area with various zones that allow for a sort of respectful pitching-of-the-tent situation. Unless otherwise posted, you can camp wherever you like but it's best to consult the owners of the land if they're somewhere in sight. When you go into the hills you find that it's usually a mix of older multi-generational farmlands or protected wilderness area. There are, of course, formal campgrounds that collect fees and might offer the official feeling of a toilet but who needs all that. We tend to walk around for hours, have some snacks, and go on a hunch which direction might offer the best scenery. There's really no way to know for sure but I've never been disappointed; sun or no sun.
    Another feature is the ubiquity of piped springs, troughs, benches, picnic tables, and even fire pits with little sheds of chopped wood sitting close by. These are set up and maintained by farmers and volunteers and it's served us more than once already. So, although you're never going to get the remote distance and scale of the Sierra or ford any sketchy creeks on foot you can still sense a very pastoral, forested, and fresh bit of countryside. I can only imagine what lies hidden in those Alps once we start exploring in a couple months. These hikes are great for meditation and reflection. Good for the old paripatetic saunter and rejuvenation; not to mention the insane grades that keep the blood flow strong and invigorating. It's sort of like scenic interval training.
     If you look at trail map of Switzerland you find a maze of interconnected webs leading in and out of cities and stations. Some of these foot-ways are ancient; dating back to their origins as Roman outposts and some I surmise, are even older. Either way it's extremely difficult to get lost. If you keep walking in any direction, chances are you'll come across a farm, hilltop cafe, or train sooner or later.
      So, we've spent a lot of March and April outside already. At least as much as feasible with adjustments and new jobs and alignments figured in. The cherry trees are exploding with flowers all over town, the hills smell like wild garlic (that we've made some pretty good pesto out of). The streams and rivers are all flowing well from runoff. The sun dodges and dances.
     In the meantime we've acquired our van. Couldn't have been a better setup (as in mechanical diesel engine, fully built-out and travel-ready with charging options, shelving, pop-top etc) It will take some refurbishing and cleaning so we're getting those lists together, but it's in pretty stellar shape. We both crave movement, even months after the trail. Life still requires rough outlines and itineraries to stay grounded. More than anything it's movement, plain and simple.
     Saturday we met old faces from the PCT: Stiina and Kristians from Latvia and Estonia. We took a solid hike somewhere around Etzel that culminated with hot mountaintop coffee and a bit of nostalgia. It's something else to share those memories and moments. I think we all agreed the PCT was the most gratifying thing we'd ever done and we still think about the trail on a daily basis...We hadn't seen them since the Ross Lake East Bank Trailhead right at the Canadian border over seven months ago. They'd put together a van before the trail and had spent most of the winter working the slopes in Davos. For many of us, the trail continues. We chase the exhilaration of a life that was all-encompassing for half a year and up to full year for those that got the bug and started planning months before Campo. Then boom. It was back home. Fridges replaced hiker boxes. No hiding behind trees to use the bathroom. Electricity at the flick of a switch. When they got back they both hit the running trails in various distance events to stay active whereas Hanne and I juggled the daily phone conversations with cycling, hiking, snowshoeing, and just getting myself here. It was great to share perspectives, stories, and the various visions we've all held onto since October. On the one hand everything's changed. On the other hand...here you are. Life still wants to be lived, and as far as its concerned, you're still very much on the Path.
    On the wall it's maps and maps. The PCT. Yosemite. Who knows. And I finally gave my promised 15% from the PCT gofundme to PCTA.org. Nothing but good karma heading into 2019 ;)
    Happy trails,
Will