Switzerland Bitches


People keep talking about how awesome this ‘travel’ thing is, and despite my reservations that backpacking is pretentious bull for unimaginative people with privilege up the wazoo, I can’t help but want to one-up people’s Bali stories, because I’m a terrible person. So with the help of five bajillion of my dad’s frequent flyer points (he used to fly return to Melbourne and Perth weekly) and enough carbon emissions to start a soft drink carbonation plant, I am flying to Switzerland tomorrow.

I expect I’ll have a blast just travelling around on trains staring out the window. Hey, I enjoy that enough on the Hume driving to Canberra.

Vague climbing plans at the moment include scrambling up Tschuggen which is a peak across the valley from the Eiger, the Via Ferrata up the Eiger Rotstock which is a sub-peak to the right of the Nordwand (with maybe a wander up the Eiger West Flank until I get scared?), a visit to the Salbit Hut, and maybe a stop by Bellinzona/Cresciano on the way to Milan to visit the northern Italian branch of the Latella/May family.

If I get really ambitious I’ll see if I can buy a pair of ski mountaineering boots (No matter how expensive Switzerland is, AT gear has to be cheaper than Australia, surely?), rent some crampons and a walking axe and see how I feel on the SE ridge of the Monch, before mailing the boots back to Sydney.

If my ambition wanes, this gym is down the road!

Also, this completely slipped my mind but LE TOUR will be on next month as Perry reminded me last night. I’m not sure if I’ll have the time to travel to Geneva and catch one of the Western stages (they’re on next weekend?) but I’ll have a look. Not a cyclist but as a spectacle it would be awesome.

Friends and family on the freeloading visiting list include Alex and Jess in Zurich, Scott and Nicole in Bern, and the aforementioned Latellas in Milan.

Anyway, the worst that can happen is that I simultaneously starve and freeze to death under a bridge, after having been robbed and scammed out of all my money and possessions (except for an overpriced airport novel, which is terrible) with my only company a bum that doesn’t speak english. So hey! (Actually, dying of embarrassment, after being rescued off the side of a mountain as an ‘incompetent, unprepared and dangerous climber endangering others’ would be worse?)

I’ll be updating with posts here.

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