Valais
So much about the Valais valley is about the arrival. The trip there is long and cumbersome. You have to drive a lot, travel a lot. Everything is small and narrow, dense, the toy like infrastructure works like a clockwork. But there’s no space, no room. Everything has to be squeezed in there, until it fits. And it always fits. From car to train to car again, and back in another train. And then a taxi, which is more or less a cabin on wheels. Through and above the mountains. Tunnels and mountain passes. Down the valley. And finally when there’s literally no room to move anymore, when there’s no space left, you’re there. Zermatt. The go to location. The Instagram hotspot. Here’s where half the world is traveling to. And I’m here, too. Backed by literally thousands of tourists squeezed in little but charming gabled houses of all sizes and shapes. And tiny electric vehicles unchanged since 1700 AD. 15.000 people leave or arrive in Zermatt every week, 15.000 in, 15.000 out. 15.000 with exactly the same destination, the same goal. But stop thinking here, or you won’t ever go here again, it won’t get any better.
Blark app, iPhone 17 Pro Max
What for? What’s the hype all about? The answer is easy and immediate, right in front of your eyes, right in your face. Often enough the view is crystal clear up here, the sun above the glaciers is near. Sometimes a few shy clouds are just there to even heighten the experience. The Matterhorn, you’ve guessed it, is the answer to all of it. Often enough it looks holy, like in an old painting by Casper David Friedrich. A painting that has become reality. Here - that’s the promise - stories yet to be told, become a reality. It’s a fairy tale, a winter wonderland, a promised land.
Blark app, iPhone 17 Pro Max
The brutal thing is that you can do nothing about it. It catches you, it haunts you, it is what it is, no matter what you’re doing, no matter what you believe in, no matter what you find good or cool, no matter where you come from. The Matterhorn is an undeniable fact. It’s a rock made to attract humans. And boy, does it attract humans.
Blark app, iPhone 17 Pro Max
I sometimes think about the endless queues up to the peak of Mount Everest and in some instances can’t help to find different but in the end similar principles applied to Zermatt. Zermatt is full and stressful and hip. It’s not a place to rest or come down. It’s a place of high pressure, both in terms of the altitude but also in terms of density and tightness. Not an ideal place for an introvert, more of an ideal place for an Instagram celebrity.
Blark app, iPhone 17 Pro Max
Nonetheless I’m here. Again. And every time I feel the need to talk about it. Is it really just about recovery and contemplation, about passing on the experience, about clearing out my thoughts, about the justification of my decisions? Or is it more about borrowing some fame and glory from the famous and eternal neighbor just to heighten my insignificant existence?
Blark app, iPhone 17 Pro Max
In the presence of the Matterhorn a lot of things become relative. What in the end does matter if not life itself. So many things can go wrong, we see so many things as obstacles that are either intimidating or just unpleasant. Life is a nightmare but in looking at eternity itself it’s simply irrelevant. Some take a look at the stars, find peace in the vastness of a mainly black universe that’s brightly covered with tiny and all so little white dots. For me, it seems, the tangible but still unreachable reality of a charismatic rock is more reassuring.
Blark app, iPhone 17 Pro Max
In looking at its iconic shape I’m not more hopeful or enthusiastic, more thrilled, more hyped, more hypnotized about the world or my own life. I just feel more grounded. Like in a time lapse movie scene where everything is moving fast except a few designated anchor points that remain still, silent and solid. The Matterhorn is my corsage, a thing on earth that keeps me whole and sane. But that’s just my personal approach and there must be 15.000 more stories each week. What’s yours?