A Blizzard in Zurich and a Trip to Valais

Zurich, Switzerland - In our two winters in Zurich, we've experienced two extremes. Last winter was historically warm and mild, with perhaps one day of snow that didn't stick (to my recollection). In stark contrast, this year has seen record snowfall. On January 14-15, heavy snow blanketed much of Switzerland. In Zurich, we received about a foot of snow in twenty-four hours, which was the most city had seen in fifty years. For H and me, this was surprising, since we sort of imagined the snowfall here would be more like Boston, but apparently the weather is tamer than we thought. 

The recent snow storm was significant enough to shut down Zurich's mass transit system, which is remarkable given how much the city prides itself in the system and relies on it. That did not stop intrepid Zurichers from getting around, however. The citizenry was observed getting around by skis, sleds, and bicycles. Regarding the latter, I must say folks here are impressively committed to their two-wheeled conveyances - they ride bikes in all kinds of inclement weather.

Transit was not the only point of pride to suffer a blow from the snow. Much like my mother in law, Zurich has a well-earned reputation for cleanliness. Over the years, Zurich (and Switzerland generally) has invested heavily in cleanliness. These investments include:

• Cameras and software systems to monitor real-time trash accumulation in various parts of the city to ensure that street sweepers are deployed rapidly and efficiently to the most unkempt parts of the city
• Adorable hydrogen-powered street sweepers 
• An app informing citizens how to dispose of their trash properly

But these supercharged sanitation systems met their match with this snow storm. The street sweepers that normally make short work of any refuse that hasn't made its way into a trash can were sidelined -unable to trundle the icy, snow-covered streets. Since then, pockets of wet trash have begun appearing along the streets and sidewalks as the snow has melted. 

The snow had two other unfortunate effects. It resulted in avalanche warnings throughout the more mountainous regions of the country where the snowfall was heavier. Though fortunately (to our knowledge) there were no significant avalanches. It also decimated the lovely cherry blossom trees on our block - the weight of the snow brought down large branches for most of these trees. 

Immediately following the storm, Hannah and I left for a previously planned trip to Valais, a large French-speaking canton in southwestern Switzerland. On the way, we visited the famous Oeschninensee, a gorgeous high alpine lake. At this time of year, it's frozen over and visitors are invited to take the famous ice walk "at their own risk." We reasoned that the ice walk was safe after observing several people successfully drilling holes in the ice for the purpose of fishing. For my part, I don't entirely understand why one would be inclined to break a surface that is keeping you alive for the purpose of fishing. I mean, it's not like you see people opening the doors of airliners to go duck hunting.  

Departing Oeschninensee, we made our way to a small town perched up in the mountains called Ayent (population: 4,059). On the way we made our way through a tunnel by means of a train. To understand, see the video below.

Our accommodations in Ayent were provided by a pony-tailed, former car mechanic and ski instructor named Jean, who had over several years converted a cow barn into an adorable chalet. If you ever happen to be in Ayent, we recommend it.

Though we stayed in Ayent, we went to Crans-Montana (population: 10,447), a posh ski resort, for our activities. On Sunday, Hannah made her first attempt at cross-country skiing, which was going swimmingly until the course dropped down a long hill. At this point, Hannah shrieked, slid into a snowbank, and fell over. She proceeded to make her way down the hill sitting on her butt with her skis pointed downward. She employed a less-than-graceful shimmying motion to scoot down the hill in small, controlled bursts. She explained to me afterwards that this technique was well known among cross country enthusiasts and was called the "undulating caterpillar." Later, at yet another downhill slope, Hannah befriended a sympathetic Swiss woman who observed the "undulating caterpillar" in action. This woman gave Hannah some tips on how she should fall down a hill (which she had apparently done many times). The technique involves a tucking motion so that your skis ended up in front of you and downhill, which made it easier to get up. The expert cross country skiers among us may know this maneuver as the "tumbling hedgehog."

We ended our cross country ski adventure at 1:30pm, which was unfortunate because this was squarely in the middle of the two-hour lunch break of the shop where we had rented the skis. So, we dropped the skis at the car, donned our boots and made out for a short hike. The hike was pleasant enough, if a little boring (it covered a lot of the same ground as our cross country ski course). It got a little bit less boring when we observed a family of four out for a walk with what we thought were three dogs, but what were in reality a dog and two goats (see below). 

Yes, those are two goats in rear.

On our last day, we went snowshoeing in Crans-Montana. The trail had a steep and strenuous start for the first third before plateauing for the next third and finally dropping back to our starting point for the last third. Along the way we crossed paths with numerous back country skiers, who were trekking up the mountain on their skis with intent of skiing down. To my mind, this was the more preferable means of descending the mountain, but Hannah was less enthusiastic about this approach. While the hike was lovely, Hannah was rather frustrated because clouds had swept into the valley and were obstructing what would have been a phenomenal view south. Through occasional breaks in the clouds we thought we spied the famous Matterhorn in the distance. At these opportunities, we of course fumbled excitedly for our phones to take grainy shots of a mountain for which there are surely better photographs all over the internet. It was only later that Hannah realized that we were most likely photographing the White Tooth, whose peak appeared more prominent and dramatic from our location and in the end we only got one photograph of the Matterhorn, which looked a bit pitiful compared to its neighbors. C'est la vie, as they say (particularly, here).

The Matterhorn?