A fun little fact about me become glaringly obvious when I left the city behind + ventured onto the trail of Cinque Terra in Italy…trails are my happy place. Every. Single. Time. Trails are always guaranteed to change my mood, adjust my attitude + give me a whole new perspective Read more…
There’s a peak near here that I’ve fallen in love with. Legit love. Probably? Like the sort of love you have for fluffy kittens you can’t keep for yourself so you’re going to love them even more, on principle. Whatever sort of love that is…that’s how I feel about Les Chaux. It’s basically perfect in every way I want it to be + it’s the gateway to one of my favorite trails in all of Switzerland. Maybe I need to explore more to find a better trail…but until I find that, this is my favoritest trail evers. #fact
I’m back! Back in Switzerland + on my way back to the tiny mountain town I fell in love with a few years ago. I booked my flight to Switzerland as soon as I accepted that winter job in the Colorado Rockies last October. As ridiculous as it seems, I was legitimately concerned I’d get a “real job” [seasonal as it was] + forget how to leave the country. My crazy doesn’t always make sense, but this time it got me back to Switzerland so I won’t apologize for it!
What do you do when the clouds take over the mountain? The same thing you do when it’s a beautifully sunny day — you get your tush outside and find trails to explore! I’ve done a fairly good job of winning the fight against the snot factory that took over my sinuses but the weather has not been very good at supporting my quest to spend all my free time outside. Rather than greeting me with sunny skies and tshirt temperatures it’s been doling out lots of chilly clouds. But I am nothing if not persistent…clouds or not, outside I went!
About two weeks ago I lugged my over-sized duffle bag up a gravel trail to Chalet Martin, the hostel that would become my home for the next three weeks…or two months. I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into. I had “met” the owners via WorkAway and we’d both agreed to commit to at least three weeks of a volunteer exchange — I helped out around the hostel [changing beds, basic housekeeping, etc] in exchange for a place to stay. As I walked in the hostel reminded me of the farm house I grew up in — a mud room for shoes + gear and cement stairs that led up to the creaky wood floors of the main level. I was home.