Another highlight of the trip: if you’re anywhere near this area, you really should travel to Obersteinberg! I wish we would have stayed here two nights (possibly three)—it gave my body just what we needed: a quiet and wilder beauty, a good night’s sleep, and candlelight.

Getting on the bus in the morning from Lauterbrunnen had me worried though. Our guidebooks said walking into the Lauterbrunnen valley was supposed to be isolated and unspoiled. Yet Harold and I got on the bus, and one after another more people got on behind us, until the bus was completely full, standing room only. Uh-oh. I wondered if this was wilderness hiking in Switzerland—hiking along with 100 of your closest tourists. But thankfully, everyone got off at a the Truemmelbachfaelle, a huge waterfall and tourist event, until there was only about ten of us left, who would be hiking from Stechelberg. Harold and I fussed with our backs for a couple minutes, so that the other hikers would be ahead of us on the trail, and then we got started on this new adventure.

Immediately I noticed the quiet. A wild rocky silty creek followed us much of the way, reminding me of some of my favorite hikes in Jasper National Park. And trees! I know we came to see the mountains, but who knew we would miss trees so much, and all the intricate details and lushness of a forest, and the shade? We passed mini-waterfalls, and could spot larger waterfalls in the distance. I loved hearing the sound of water instead of the cows, for a little while. We would pass about four people, then no one—there are multiple paths up and down to the Berghauses, which help disperse the crowd.

Because it was a relatively short day (the hike would take about 2 hours 30 minutes), I had told myself it would be an easy day. But after the first babbling brook stretch, the climb was pretty relentless, and the day became a very tough hike for me. The 700 meter climb was often us going up on these tough steps, measured for a very large human, like a stair machine from hell—I would have preferred switchbacks. My pack felt especially heavy this day—I had taken the umbrella from Harold earlier, to lighten his load, and I like to think that was the reason, but I was probably just tired after two rather sleepless nights, and my muscles were still wasted from Falhourn. It was one of the first times a trail almost reduced me to tears. I had to stop a few times along the way to rest, and eat some energy food (really gross sesame salty granola bars—yuck! but it was all we had). Once we climbed out of the trees, we were exposed to the sun, so I think the heat might have also gotten to me. Harold did fine though.

The good thing (and, on occasion, a tough thing) about our hiking in Switzerland is that we just had to keep going —we had reservations, we had our belongings on our backs, and our lodging lay ahead. No matter how tired I got, I had no choice but to keep plodding up the mountain side. The good news is eventually we made it, and there is this feeling of epiphany, like a million endorphins, when the trail levels out and you see your destination. Nothing can feel as good, I think, as hiking to where you’re staying that night.

There are two Berghauses here: Hotel Tschingelhorn, and Hotel Obersteinberg. They both looked wonderful, but we chose Obersteinberg, because they don’t have electricity in the rooms, and dinner and sleeping was by candlelight.

Obersteinberg was a wonderful place—a working farm with a few buildings perched on a mountain, windows thrown open, a balcony looking out over the valley to the glaciered peaks. After a picnic lunch, the very nice host let us check in early, so we could drop off our bags and collapse on the bed for a nap. The room was lovely and simple, with clean wood. Everything is wood, often looks hand-crafted, porcelain wash basin, tables covered with clean tablecloths, a rug in the middle. Harold and I think the owners had built the building themselves—which also meant no insulation between walls or the ceiling, meaning you hear everything your neighbors do…but people tend to turn in early at the Berghauses, thankfully.

There were all these cool looking trails leading off from Obersteinberg—two alpine huts which would be fun day hikes (or even overnight trips, if you could sleep in dorm rooms)—one of the huts was right off a glacier. We decided to do a slightly shorter hike in the afternoon to the Oberhornsee, which our guidebooks made a big deal about, which was mentioned on all the signs, and was also on our topo map.

Past the inn, the scenery grew more beautiful and wild, reminding me more and more of my beloved Jasper (but without the bugs!). We didn’t see any other hikers until we reached the Oberhornsee—and the feeling of having this whole valley to yourself was wonderful. There was so much water in this valley —I think that’s one of the things that Harold loved about it. Waterfalls everywhere, and rushing streams.

And this brings us to one of the funnier stories of our trip. since we didn’t have our packs, and it was getting fairly late (we probably started this part of the hike at 4 p.m. or so), and we wanted to get back to dinner, we were hiking very fast and hard, which was fun—who knew hiking could be so easy when you don’t have 25 pounds on your back? The trail was fun, the scenery was varied, and we blew past this little puddle with people gathered around it and kept climbing. However, we were supposed to come to the lake in about 45 minutes—it was probably about an hour and 15 minutes before I thought we may have taken a wrong turn, or we were getting lost. One indicator was the trail markings had changed from the friendly red and white markings to blue and white, which meant mountaineering or alpine climbing. We kept climbing up, though nothing really seemed to be around us but rock, and some markings written on a rock saying we were headed to one of the alpine huts. I had a bad feeling about it, as the sun was setting, and the mountain shadows were overtaking us like some sort of ominous presence, and here we were climbing up a mountain. Harold wouldn’t listen to me until I had a breakdown (still tired from Falhorn!) and said I wanted both of us to turn around.

It was only after we climbed back down to the puddle that we realized that was indeed the famous Oberhornsee (perhaps in September the water level was just very low?). It was so small. And there we had been, headed off to the huette, which looks beautiful but far away. By the time we rediscovered the Oberhornsee, everyone else had gone, so we got to sit and appreciate the emptiness around us. If we ever get to return to this area, I would love to climb up to the two huettes that branches off from this lake—both situated next to glaciers, perched above the valley, the view would have been unbelievable.

We hurried back to the inn for a candlelight dinner, which was lovely, even if the vegetarian food was just noodles and an egg (plus great soup, salad and desert though). It’s a small inn—I don’t think there are many private rooms, and the dining room was a small wood paneled room, with windows looking out onto the mountains, with about 6 tables. There were three or four other couples in the room (including a family who had brought their 8 or 9 year old son—I couldn’t believe that a small kid could make the difficult climb that nearly bettered me!). On the way back to our room, a candle was lit in the stairwell to show us the way. There are no showers, and no running water in the rooms, so I got to use a wash pitcher for the first time—oh, how I felt I was living in a 19th century novel! I loved the sound the water made when splashing against the bowl. I could have washed my face a thousand times. Though we loved the candlelight, we did use Harold’s head lamp when going to and from the bathroom though.

We had a comfortable rest, once our neighbors settled down. Harold and I read a bit by candlelight, then fell asleep.