A Switzerland Story: Climbing Schilthorn at Night

September 9th, I landed in Geneva, ready to begin my semester in Europe with a backpacking trip in the alps. My checked bag, with all my camping gear, boots, and clothing, however, was back in London. After a day wasted trying to get my bag back, I decided to continue on my backpacking trip without my backpacking gear, so drove to Murren to catch my reservation for that night.

Murren is a remote mountain village and the base of a 2-part cable car that goes to Schilthorn (9,744’). Since I didn’t make my original plan to take the cable car up that day, I decided I’d hike to Schilthorn to get there for sunrise before the lifts open. 

I got into Murren in the late evening and made some PB&Js for the hike (and, of course, one for dinner). However, my lack of preparation now began to shine through as I had no utensils to spread the peanut butter, and so, left with no alternatives, ended up using the back of my second toothbrush as a knife. Splendid.

This was when I encountered problem number two. My water bottle was stashed in my checked bag stuck in London, and in my rush to get to Murren, I had failed to get any Swiss cash. The one shop open at this hour in this remote village did not take card, so desperately I walked down the street looking for a solution. Behind this fancy restaurant in the alleyway, they had a crate of empty 1.5L plastic sparkling water bottles. NOW HEAR ME OUT. Logically how many people do you know drink directly from a 1.5-liter bottle of sparkling water at a fancy restaurant? Exactly. So now, with water and food packed, I went to bed at 10 pm. 

I had briefly looked at a blog and saw it took someone 6 hours to make this hike in the summer, so since I wanted to be there at 6 am for the sunrise, I decided to leave at 12 am. 2 hours of sleep, and I was off in the dead of night. 

The early portion of the hike was through the dense fog, and I would occasionally pass a cow grazing the hillside pastures, identifiable by their loud cowbells ringing through the mist. With a full moon and the well-marked nature of the trail, I found the route relatively easy to follow. 

Hiking out and up above the clouds, I made it to the ridgeline, which had been dusted in some fresh snow, a concerning factor for my slick Nike road running shoes, but they managed. I reached the summit of Schilthorn at about 4:15 am (+7 miles and +4500 ft elev. gain). My ahead-of-schedule arrival meant I had roughly 2 hours to kill before I would start shooting. A situation that did not welcome my lack of preparation for the elements. While I was generating heat while hiking, the moment I stopped, the cold set in. My one wet cotton t-shirt, sweater, and raincoat did not make up for my lack of gloves and hat, leaving me desperate for a way inside the Piz Gloria, the observatory on the peak. 

On the bottom floor of Piz Gloria, I finally found one door that was unlocked and found myself in the James Bond museum in the dark. The dead silence and dimly lit figures of Bond characters pointing guns heightened my fear, but the prospect of going back into the cold trumped fear, and so I ventured onward. As I tiptoed on, the sudden whir of the automated sliding bathroom door freaked me out. On edge, I made it into the cafe area and took out my food: PB&J time. Convincing myself that I was all alone up there, I began talking to the camera (see the vlog when it comes out) while I chowed down my PB&J.

After I warmed up and finished eating, I decided to go explore the building. And that's how I found myself in a block of rooms all labeled “Privato.” As comprehension dawned, panic set in. These were all evidently lodging for the staff that runs the Piz Gloria, and I was smack dab in the middle of their private quarters at 5 am after I had been loudly talking to myself for the past 30 minutes. Desperately and silently, I beelined for the way I came in, only to find that the door handle had a small red button beneath it. If I opened the door from the inside, the button would be pressed, and the alarm would sound. My desperation heightened as I found the front and side doors to be locked. Thinking I could escape through the cable car entrance, I hit the elevator to go down to the lobby. A voice from the elevator broke the silence announcing, “Welcome to Piz Gloria Main Level,” in every possible language, its artificial ear-splitting voice echoing all around me. I held my breath waiting for the stupid thing to shut up before it gave me away and woke up all the staff. As a last resort, I bolted up the stairs to the top level, the 360-degree rotating fancy restaurant. Noticing a handle on one of the windows, I hopped over the tables onto the window sill and thrust the window open, lowering myself out. Safe at last in the cold.

A warm glow on the horizon below the starry night sky gives the first sign of sunrise, and so I set up my camera for a timelapse. Sitting back, I take in the beauty of my surroundings: the stillness and silence of the morning, the pink glow above the vast mountain range, and the low fog below me. Life is good. 

Another hiker came up the trail, Dima, a traveler from Germany who had been biking through the Switzerland region down to Italy. Dima and I talked until Piz Gloria opened, and he convinced me to indulge in the $35 James Bond Breakfast Buffet. “Today, we eat like Kings,” he exclaimed. First in line, we destroyed the buffet with several helpings, reaping the rewards of our long trek upwards. Dima told me of biking adventures, and I shared my plan for exploring Switzerland and Northern Italy. And to make sure we got our money's worth, stuffed our bags full of croissants and bread before heading off on our separate ways.

While this trip was an utter fiasco, especially at the start, it was one of my favorite adventures from my travels.

Story & Photography By: Matthew Kirven

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