Rorschach to Lauterbrunnen - Day 11 - Engelberg to Tannalp

Tuesday July 8, Alp Grat to Engelberg

By the morning, I figured if we could handle a 7,520' pass in the pouring rain, we could handle a 7,485' pass in the snow. As S nudged me uphill on Saturday, I nudged him uphill on Sunday.

We did begin with a compromise to reduce the discomfort: immersion therapy from Engelberg 2,350' up to the Trübsee at the foot of the Titlis. 

Can't remember if I had my eyes mostly closed or open for this one,
but given that I could see out the windows, I'm guessing closed.

We were greeted with misty mists and obscured views. What lay behind the clouds?

It was a remarkably consistent grade up to the Jochpass, where, given the weather, we paused at the middle lift station not for Apfelschorle but a cup of peppermint tea. The lift from Jochpass takes visitors all the way up to the glaciers on Titlis. 

A decorated mirror in the restaurant said "Hallo, Sommer 2025"... 

...while outside, snow was now dusting the snow that had fallen overnight.

To reach our destination for the evening, Berggasthaus Tannalp, we needed to hike partway up and around the Schafberg. The trail led up hill, but tilted disorientingly sideways, toward the steep drop off to the Engstlensee below, a degree of exposure that unnerved the acrophobe and was not improved by the falling snow.  

Water avens or pasque flower keeping on keeping on...

This photo is meant to show the steepness of the drop off to the left, as well as the upward steepness of the trail itself, but my cellphone camera flattens things out.

By this time, we were being pelted by Graupel (in English, also "graupel"), snow pellets distinct from hail and ice pellets. My prior experience with graupel was limited to Germany and Utah.

The Engstlensee, come to think of it, is in the canton Bern, the seventh canton of our hike. No, make that the eighth canton: Engelberg is in Obwalden. No, wait, the ninth: the Trübsee is in canton Nidwalden. We would spend the next day hiking along the ridge dividing Obwalden and Bern, but at this point we were done adding new cantons to our list.

Engstlensee

Once we reached our highest elevation for the day, the exposed section of trail yielded to less anxiety-inducing terrain and curved away from the Engstlensee. Slush and puddles filled the trail in places, but once we headed downward, it became easier to keep our boots dry. It was interesting to experience the abruptness of the snow line: above it, graupel; below, drizzle.

The clouds were starting to clear when we reached these trail makers. They must be hard to see when they're under snow...

Look at that, it's sunny! 

View back at the Engstlensee

Viola biflora in its native habitat 

The horizontal strip of blue in the middle of the photograph below is the Tannensee, just beyond our destination for the day.

We took off layers and put on layers and took off layers repeatedly.

Taking photos before the jackets came off...

The odd-looking succulent below is a "houseleek," genus Sempervivum (meaning "always living"), better known in the U.S. as hens and chicks. Don't know about you, but my cultivated hens and chicks never looked like that, and I'd never seen one before in the wild. Wikipedia says the name houseleek comes from Anglo-Saxon laec, meaning plant--i.e. these plants grow on houses--and Romans thought they warded off fire and lightning strikes. 

White hellebore

The rocks emerging from behind the clouds looked like pastries dusted with powdered sugar: 

More houseleeks! I had a hard time getting photographs that were in focus. Note the bits of graupel on the flower petals. By this point, our jackets were back on, graupel was falling hard and fast, and the wind was making sure to blow the pellets into our faces. Whap whap whap whap whap.

As we approached Berggasthaus Tannalp, dozens of cows who had had enough of getting pummeled by snow pellets decided to call it a day. They headed down the road with us, seeking shelter under stable eaves and generally looking piqued. (No photos, because we were getting pummeled too.)

By the time we arrived at Berggasthaus Tannalp, the precipitation had stopped. I was impressed by how well the wildflowers withstood the weather.

Look, sunshine! The spots in the meadow are cows, no longer consternated.

Look, graupel! The weather changed in the blink of an eye, but the forecast for the rest of the week was for mostly sun. We looked forward to Wednesday, expecting to finally be able to see some of what we had been missing in the misty mists.

Ta da! A mere 6.2 miles, since we cut off a chunk by taking the Seilbahn up to the Trübsee, plus 2,150' ascent, 1,550' descent.

I finally figured out that if I pause my Garmin on Seilbahnen,
Strava will draw the connection without counting the miles

Sterzing to Feltre Day 6 - Plattkofel Hütte to Rifugio Antermoia

Wednesday June 19, Plattkofel Hütte to Rifugio Antermoia

On Wednesday, we crossed from mostly German-speaking Südtirol into mostly Italian-speaking Südtirol. We were heading to our second-highest hut of the trip, Rifugio Antermoia, where it had snowed a week earlier, and we weren't sure how easy it would be to reach.

Our day started by heading down from Plattkofel to the Duron valley.

The gushing waterfall we had seen the day before was now just a trickle.

We saw goats...

...and lotsa marmots. We did not wreak havoc on the ecosystem by feeding them peanuts.

Rifugio Micheluzzi, in the valley, is the starting point for many folks who hike up to Rifugio Antermoia. We passed the rifugio without stopping and continued through the valley...

Ah, toilet paper. People, people, people. Do not leave TP on the trail. No, no, no. Pack it out. Trust me on this: no one wants to see your toilet paper. Unless you want to see other people's toilet paper scattered about the trails, you should assume no one wants to see yours. Buy a Kula Cloth or other eco-friendly re-usable pee cloth, and never carry toilet paper with you again. 

Up, up, up we hiked, past the toilet paper, up, up, up, past Passo Duron. Look, it's Plattkofel from southwestish, looking completely different from northwestish.

There's Passo Duron, which we'll hike down on Thursday:

Up, up, up we tromped, to the unmelted snow. After several days of warm sunlight, the snow was melting and soft. S had brought microspikes in his backpack, but we never needed to put them on. 

Eventually, after all that upward tromping, we emerged at the rim of the cirque in which Rifugio Antermoia sits. The snow there was taller than we were, but the trail was clear, because the rifugio hosts had gone up a few weeks earlier and cleared the trails so they could open for the season on June 14th.

Look! It's Rifugio Antermoia!

The sign on the refuge says it's 2,496 meters above sea level--about 8,189 feet. 

First order of business, Linzertorte and Apfelschorle. We weren't hungry enough yet for lunch, although it was lunchtime. The short hiking day was intentional: S likes rocky mountain tops, and there was other hiking to do on this mountain. Our original plan was to drop our packs and go exploring, to scope out whether we could hike out the next day by going up and over Antermoia Pass. But when we made that plan, we were expecting most of the snow to be gone by June 20, and it wasn't.

After we snacked, I removed the makeshift epaulettes I had been using for the past several days. My backpack was still relatively new, and the should straps were a little abrasive in places. S made the very useful suggestion that I stuff folded socks into the shoulders of my T-shirt, and it worked like a charm--just enough padding to soften the load. 

We decided to hike to the bright glacial-silt blue lake near the refuge:

Look! Lake Antermoia! It was still covered with ice and snow and slush, but unobstructed water showed through in a few places.

After lolling in the sun with several other hikers--this was clearly a popular and pretty straightforwardly accessible spot--we headed back to the refuge, where brand spankin' new solar panels were being installed. 

Here's the view from the front of the hut:

After all that lolling, we needed more food: a local cheese board with honey. 

Here's a photo of S showing off a developing bruise on his forehead. When we arrived at the refuge, the squeaky clean glass doors were open. When he headed outside to admire the view, the doors were closed, but so clear they were invisible, and he plowed right into them.

Management heard the bang and came out to put a big masking-tape X and a "Warning: door!" sign on the glass. Shortly after that, the sweet golden retriever in the photo below did the same thing S had just done, banging its head into the glass with a loud thump. They need a masking-tape X at dog level too.

Afterward, I hung out at the refuge while S donned a pair of microspikes and set off toward Antermoia Pass, "just to see how it is." When he came back, he deemed it "manageable but not a lot of fun." While the snow was easy enough to walk on, it was also deep enough to occasionally sink thigh-deep into. The views, however, were pretty spectacular:

Looking back from the far side of the lake. The triangular peak rising
in the distance is Marmolada, the highest peak in the Dolomites

S's favorite photo: big mountains with people for scale

Looking back from about halfway up to the pass

Back at the hut, our room with a view:

And a view of the room. The bunk beds were stacked three high, with six beds total on each side of the room, plus additional beds in side rooms and another story up. The rifugio had been open for six days and was PACKED.

One consequence of being packed (aside from witnessing varying degrees of modesty between the room and the showers) was assigned seating at dinner. We sat with a family of four from Lithuania and a pair of hiking buddies from Belgium, and enjoyed the best conversations of our entire trip. (This was particularly welcome after our stay at Platkoffel Huette, where the diner assigned to the seat next to me was oddly territorial, manifested by a right elbow that inched ever closer to my plate. The Belgians were way better about personal space.)

The omnivores next to us had Speck-adorned beet risotto

Starting at Plattkofel Huette, and continuing for the rest of our hike south, we were in the realm of Italian dining habits. This meant a first plate, a second plate, possibly a salad, and always "a little something sweet" to end the meal. Bread shifted from dark to fluffy white, along with--at least for the next couple of days--hard regional flatbread crackers seasoned with fennel, called Schüttelbrot.

Ta da! 5.7 miles, 2,200 ft elevation gain, mostly from the route below.