I have finally reached my last destination in the Alps for this summer and autumn. After months almost constantly on the road, moving from one mountain region to another, it feels like a good moment to pause and look back.
It has been quite a journey. It began with three weeks on the gravel bike through the beautiful landscapes of the French Alps, before I crossed the Col de la Bonette and continued into Italy. There, I explored some wonderful side valleys close to the French border: Val di Stura, Val Maira and Val Pellice, among others.
A lot has changed in my life this summer. For the first time, I bought a car.
Originally, the idea was simply to make travelling between Airbnbs a little easier. For more than ten years, I had been moving around the mountains as a trailrunner, by bicycle and by public transport. I loved that way of travelling, but it came with its limitations. You have to organise everything carefully, you can only bring so much, and finding affordable accommodation in the Alps without relying on a tent has become increasingly difficult.
But then something unexpected happened.
During a few weeks in Schoppernau, one of my familiar places in the Alps, I discovered how much I enjoyed sleeping in my car. It wasn't designed for it, but with a little improvisation I made it work. I subsequently made two trips through the Alps, travelling this way, and it turned out to be a revelation. See f ex here, here and here.
The freedom is extraordinary. No more wondering where to sleep that night or where to have breakfast the next morning. Everything is with you. I could explore remote valleys, find beautiful places to spend the night and, most importantly, escape the noise of campsites and tourist crowds. I often simply asked people whether I could park in their garden or driveway. I was always made to feel welcome, and some of those encounters turned into lovely conversations.
Gradually, the idea grew to find a vehicle better suited to this kind of travelling. Three weeks ago, I bought a long-wheelbase Peugeot Rifter and immediately hit the road again.
I began my journey with the new van around the Mont Blanc area. On the days when the weather turned bad and it made more sense to give the trails a rest, I spent my time exploring the dozens of supermarkets and specialised shops scattered throughout the valley between Cluses and Chamonix. The kind of bizarrely big French supermarkets where you can find just about anything, alongside little specialist stores selling all sorts of things I needed to turn my van into a proper little home on wheels — in my own way.
It wasn't exactly an easy undertaking for me. I have some autistic traits, and when too much information comes at me at once, especially when things are only half-explained or remain somewhat unclear, I can easily feel overwhelmed and helpless. But I took my time, worked my way through it and, eventually, managed to get things done. Again, in my own way…
The world of cars and mechanics is another peculiar universe. Garages often seem to assume that everyone has spent the past twenty years doing nothing but driving and knows exactly how everything works. Well, that certainly isn't me. I often have the impression that other people somehow manage to get things perfectly right, effortlessly, while I have to struggle my way through every little detail. That kind of effortless competence doesn't come naturally to me.
My van probably won't win any prizes for its interior design or serve as a textbook example of how to convert a vehicle. But I'm happy with it. It does everything I want it to do. I love having my own little space, with enough room to sit comfortably, work and simply enjoy being indoors when the weather isn't inviting me outside.
This has given me the opportunity to spend a big part of the last ten days wrestling with, chiselling away at, tweaking, testing and experimenting with a new song, using no fewer than five different software applications along the way. The result is called 'I Must Be An Alien'. In a somewhat light-hearted way, (I hope) it is my attempt to give a place to a deep-rooted and terrible sadness I have been carrying with me over the past few years. The song is available here and is also being released starting from today on Spotify and other streaming platforms. It is the first track from what I hope will eventually become a new album (working title ‘The van’ ;).
My previous album is of course also still available. It moves me that, every now and then, I receive such nice messages from people who have taken the time to listen. It means a lot to me - thanks.
After having left France via the Col de la Forclaz, I travelled through the entire Rhône Valley. I spent some great trailrunning days in the gorgeous Val d'Hérens, discovered some beautiful trails on the southern slopes of the Rhône Valley above Sion and around Anzère, and explored the wonderful area above the Aletsch Glacier a bit more intensively.
And now, after crossing the bleak Grimsel Pass, which was surprisingly still open, I have arrived somewhere that holds a very special place in my heart.
Let's call it H.
I first discovered this place several years ago, almost by accident. On another occasion, while travelling over the Klausen Pass, I spent a night with Andy, whom I met through Warmshowers, the international cycling network. He later moved to H. Some time later, around Christmas a few years ago, I sent him an email asking whether I might stay for a night or two and do some trailrunning in his area. He replied that he wouldn't be there himself, but that his apartment was mine for an entire week.
And so I ended up spending a week there around the Christmas holidays. One of the most beautiful weeks I can remember.
There is something about this place. It gets plenty of sunshine, remains relatively quiet and has somehow escaped the more excessive forms of Alpine tourism. In wintertime, it is primarily a family ski resort, without the crowds and testosterone-fuelled atmosphere you sometimes find elsewhere. And for trail running, it is simply wonderful.
You can easily put together a circular route of just over twenty kilometres, with magnificent views almost everywhere you turn. Plenty of sunshine, beautiful mountain scenery and, on a clear day, even a glimpse of the Eiger above Grindelwald. The people are incredibly friendly, too. It is one of those places where you immediately feel at home.
By coincidence, I found a very affordable hotel here, so I decided to stay for two nights. The nights are getting rather cold, and a warm bed - and a WARM shower!! (instead of washing myself in water of 6 degrees or so ;) - seemed like a good idea.
Today was a trailrunning day of moving moments and quiet thrills. What made it particularly special was retracing some of the routes I used to run almost every day during that unforgettable week. Back then, everything was covered in snow. Today, I could see the landscape in its autumn colours. One memory, in particular, remains vivid - the first time I had ever gone trail running at night. After a few days in the area, I felt familiar enough with the surroundings to venture out after dark. Everything was buried under a thick layer of snow. I put on my headlamp and headed into the mountains. It was magical. You are almost entirely alone, with only the narrow beam of your headlamp illuminating the sparkling snow. You hear animals moving somewhere in the darkness, while far away you can see the lights of the piste workers preparing the slopes for the following day.
That entire week was unforgettable. I read some wonderful books at that time, went trailrunning almost every day and enjoyed a deep inner sense of peace and freedom. Returning today, and running through those familiar landscapes once again, brought back a lot of those feelings.
And so, here I am again. At the end of a summer and autumn filled with movement, discovery and adventure. I have travelled countless kilometres, explored new valleys, met wonderful people and learned a great deal along the way. And I have discovered that travelling with a little campervan suits me remarkably well. Perhaps even better than I had imagined.
Now the seasons are changing. Winter is approaching, and I find myself looking forward to it. I hope I will be able to return pretty soon to the Alps when the snow arrives. There are always new trails to explore - a neverending journey indeed!
Humble greeting from der Alpenkönig ;)
