Continuing
our systematic exploration of Alpine skiing, The Spouse and I recently took a
week-long vacation that began with several days at Zermatt, moved on to different
parts of the vast Portes du Soleil ski network that spans mountains and towns
in Switzerland and France, and wound up at Chamonix in the heart of the French
Alps. It was our first time in all of
these places and they couldn’t have been more different.
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| Matterhorn from Gornergrat Railway |
“You must
visit Zermatt!” has been a common refrain among friends and acquaintances. Overlooked by the iconic Matterhorn sitting
astride the Swiss-Italian border, the area is one of the most famous sites in
Switzerland, and certainly one of the most well-known mountain images in the
world. The day after we arrived in
Zermatt I posted a photo of the Matterhorn on Facebook and asked “Where in the
world are we?” Within minutes I had correct
responses from friends all over the world – including a smart-alec Californian,
who commented “Disneyland, of course!” A
few days later, I posted a photo of Mont Blanc, the highest peak in Europe, and
no one recognized it.
Which prompted
me to muse on why this particular “horn” – a geological term referring to a
mountain carved on all sides by glaciers – has achieved such iconic status. It is undeniably impressive, standing tall
and apart from the other peaks in the area.
But I have to say that we have seen many, many awesome mountain peaks in
our year and a half in Switzerland, just none as famous as this one.
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| John Ruskin's view of the Matterhorn |
When outside
travelers began to explore the Alps in the 18th century – for any
purpose other than simply crossing from Italy to central Europe – many were awestruck
by the Matterhorn’s shape, clearly a product of vast natural forces yet close
to a pure pyramid. English Romantics flocked
to the Alps, seeing their wildness as a contrast to all they disliked in “modern”
civilization. In the 1840s, English
artist and social critic John Ruskin discovered the Alps and the Matterhorn
during travels to Italy, and his writings and drawings made the mountain famous
among the English.
Then, in
mid-century mountaineering captured the imaginations of English and European
gentlemen, sparking a race to be the first to climb one or another peak. The Matterhorn’s sheer rock faces offered one
of the most difficult challenges. It was
finally conquered in 1865 by a group led by Englishman Edward Whymper, but the
death of four of his party on the descent only added to its formidable
reputation.
By the end
of the century, the expansion of the Swiss railroad system made the Alps
accessible to middle-class English travelers.
Zermatt was reached by railroad in 1891, and a cog rail line was
constructed to Gornergrat, a smaller peak offering superb views of the
Matterhorn. And in 1908 Swiss artist
Emil Cardinaux, under a commission from the Swiss tourism agency, created the
classic poster that cemented the image of the Matterhorn in the international
mind.
Thinking over
the most common iconic travel images, I realized that many of them were the
products of the latter part of the 19th century – the Eiffel Tower,
the Statue of Liberty, even London’s Big Ben was not constructed until
1859. This same period saw the birth of
mass international tourism, and I suspect that our images of them also began
with tourism posters.
So, how did
the mighty Matterhorn stand up to our scrutiny?
As you might have guessed, I am something of an iconoclast when it comes
to “must-see” sites, so I approached the experience with a certain amount of
skepticism. My attitude wasn’t helped by
the fact that, after driving south from the Vallais through the Nikolaital, we
had to leave our car in the village of Täsch and take a shuttle train to
Zermatt, which does not allow cars. We
parked in a huge garage/train station that reminded me of the vast garage on the outskirts of
Venice, another tourism icon. We had to schlep all
our suitcases and ski gear on to the train, which to compound matters was
delayed by avalanche testing. (By the
way, I picked up the Yiddish term “to schlep” from Jewish friends in college
days, and was delighted to discover that it is a real German verb, schleppen,
“to drag.”)
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| Aboard the shuttle to Zermatt |
Almost
everyone else in the large crowd awaiting the train had loaded their stuff on
airport-style dollies, and I anticipated a massive mess when it came time to
board, when everyone had to transfer their stuff onto the train. But when the train arrived everyone simply pushed
their carts directly onto the cars, which had open spaces where carts could be
secured to the walls via hooks for the purpose.
It’s impossible to underestimate the ingenuity of Swiss railways. At the other end, they simply rolled them off
the train and toward waiting taxis.
We too
bundled ourselves onto one of the little electric cars that are the main form
of transport in Zermatt, and I immediately recognized the wisdom of the system.
Outfitted with snow chains, taxis easily
maneuvered through the narrow, snow-packed streets, which would have been
clogged with normal cars driven by tourists unused to such icy conditions. Plus, the air in the narrow valley was
crystal clear.
We settled
into our comfortable little hotel and we set out to explore the town. It was charming, though clouds obscured the
most famous part of its skyline. After struggling
for a time for traction on the hard-packed streets, The Spouse marched us into
a sporting goods store and purchased two sets of ice cleats – problem solved.
As far as I
can see, the only major problem with Zermatt is that it is Very Expensive, even
by Swiss standards. We dealt with this
on our two nights there by eating in Italian restaurants; pasta is relatively
less expensive and given the fact that Italy is just the other side of the mountain
one can say it is almost local cuisine.
The staff at both places were definitely Italian.
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| View of Zermatt from Gondola |
Like most
ski towns in Switzerland, Zermatt is nestled in a steep valley, while the
slopes are located high on the mountains above.
There are a number of different skiing sectors, each reached by separate
parts of a complex network of cog-wheel trains, trams and gondolas. Fortunately, our hotel was located a ten-minute walk
from a gondola offering access to several areas.
Our first
morning out we headed to the Gornergrat area, but when we reached the end of
the last gondola we found that the lift to the top wasn’t running yet. So we jumped on the cog-wheel train, which
had originated from the opposite side of town, and rode it to its end just
below an old observatory overlooking the Gornergletscher (glacier).
Although
forecasts promised sun, we got off the train into a driving blizzard and slowly
made our way down the mountain. Though I
intensely dislike skiing new slopes in limited visibility, we soon found that
the blue slopes actually merited their Easy designation. Gradually breaks in the clouds offered
fleeting glimpses of the Matterhorn.
On day two
we took a series of gondolas and a tram to the top of Klein Matterhorn, for
some reason now referred to as “Matterhorn Glacier Paradise.” Because of a bit of knee trouble I decided not to
ski that day and instead did some winter hiking. But at the top, which should have given us an
awesome panorama of the Matterhorn and the Italian side of the mountains, we
were greeted by another blizzard. The
Spouse explored some of these slopes while I sipped coffee at the comfy restaurant.
In the afternoon we returned
to Gornergrat, where I took a hike that affording lovely, if somewhat hazy
Matterhorn views.
After two
days, what had I learned about this famous icon? Although the Matterhorn is undeniably
impressive, I found that its iconic status inevitably influenced my
experience. That is, I always comparing
what I saw with a pre-existing image in my mind. In fact, to avoid disappointment one guidebook
recommends which areas to visit to get “the
classic Matterhorn view.” (It reminded
me of a niece’s comment about Big Ben when we took her to London several
decades ago: “I thought it would be bigger.”)
In a sense,
the Matterhorn (and Zermatt) has become a brand. It never changes, because we experience the icon
as much as the reality. Perhaps that is
why many people like to return again and again.
The British are particularly fond of the area – we heard more English
spoken here than anywhere we’ve visited – and I enjoyed conversing with an
elderly English gentleman with whom I shared a lunch table. Now in his 80s, he comes back to Zermatt
every year, always staying at the same hotel.
This is understandable for someone his age, but I couldn’t help thinking
about all of the other beautiful places in Switzerland that he’s never seen.
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| Lunch, Haute Savoie style |
On the other
hand, we had little idea of what to expect from the other areas we visited. We enjoyed a pleasant day on the
family-friendly slopes above the French town of Morzine – offering the easiest
runs I have encountered in the Alps – but were most impressed by the quality of
the Haute Savoie cuisine offered at a tiny restaurant atop one of the highest
points. The promised view of Mont Blanc
was blocked by clouds.
Our happiest
discovery was the resort of Avoriaz, a town built in the 1970s atop a plateau. All of the buildings were designed to look
like cliffdwellings that blending with the massive brown cliffs behind
it. I gather that the designs are
controversial, but after months of chalets The Spouse and I were
enchanted. The town is completely
car-free, in fact the only means of transport are skis and a horse-drawn
sleigh, generally used to carry baggage to ones hotel or condo. Even better,
day two at Avoriaz was beautiful, the only blue-sky ski day of our
vacation. We were enchanted by the views
and the diversity of skiing slopes.
We’ll definitely be back.
At the end
of the ski day we drove to Chamonix, passing beneath the formidable bulk of
Mont Blanc. This area is best known for
its fantastic off-piste skiing, appealing mainly to experts. The town itself is charming in a
quintessentially French sort of way, but my experience there was limited by the
fact that the mountain was socked in both days we were there. No matter, I let The Spouse enjoy exploring
black pistes in the fog while I relaxed in the hot tub at our hotel – unusual
in our experience of Alpine accommodations.
On our last afternoon
we did take a lovely walk through snowy woods in the valley. After a week of climbing mountains on trains, trams and gondolas, it was somehow a delight to experience winter deliberately on our own two feet.
