Valais
“Okay, you have to be honest,” my good friend Guillaume said in his Swiss-French accent. “Just say what you think.”
I’m bending over flowing alpine snow run-off that amounts to more than a trickle but less than a stream, flowing down the rocky side of a mountain along which my friends and I are hiking. The clear, cool water leaps merrily off the hillside into my equally clear plastic cup, and I take a contemplative and deliberate drink like a sommelier in Bordeaux. Looking at Gui – and conspicuously not toward his new wife, Carole – I say through a grimace and clenched teeth, “It’s pretty good.” He immediately shouts pained acclamations of defeat as his wife starts triumphantly taunting him in French. All the while, I can only laugh.
Silly as it may seem, this scene captures much of the life and culture in Valais, a stunning canton in southern Switzerland ruled over by towering Alps and, apparently, some fighting cows. A decentralized, competitive, and independent culture; the closeness of community; the draw of the mountains; the importance of snow; and a palpable sense of natural purity - all play out in this simple taste test. At immediate stake was an input into an age-old and contentious question for locals: which was better, the “left side” or the “right side?”
The distinction refers not to ideological differences but to physical sides of the valley, as defined by the flow of the Rhône river that runs down the valley itself. Gui grew up on the “left side,” in a small alpine village called Vercorin, while Carole grew up on the “right,” in a slightly larger town called Savièse. Today, we are hiking just above Savièse along the trail Torrent-Neuf, which follows the path of an old aqueduct that used to bring water to the town from the mountains above. The aqueduct now largely removed, the path that replaced it provides hikers with stunning views, historical structures and infographics, and some suspended gorge crossings that would give some people more than a moment’s pause. However, the bridges are anchored very solidly – Carole particularly enjoyed bouncing on them as we crossed – and their robustness combined with minimal elevation change creates a relatively easy trail that draws tourists regularly and in great number. On this particular day, though, we were fortunate enough to have the trail largely to ourselves, allowing me to conduct this taste test without puzzling any passersby. At its conclusion, I reassured my friend that I had not yet tried the natural water from the left side, which would be the telling result in the end.
While the rivalry between the sides of the valley and among the towns is mostly good-natured, it reflects a very real phenomenon of sociological decentralization. While I do not believe anyone would go so far as to suggest they are not Swiss, there prevails a very real feeling that the people of Valais are much more alike to each other than they are to the Swiss inhabitants of larger cities, like Geneva and Zurich, or other cantons. This kinship creates a collective identity within which family, community, and independence feature.
It is this cultural identity that allowed my friends to pull off quite the feat for their wedding. With the help of family and friends, Gui and Carole physically constructed an astonishing, beautiful, and personalized wedding celebration in about a day and a half (admittedly with a lot of planning and pre-work). The day of the wedding, the same family and friends witnessed my friends’ marriage, partied quite literally until the sun rose at the reception, and then – some without sleep – helped tear down, pack, and return all the elements of the wedding within a day and a half afterward. True, my friends are excellent people loved by many, but even so, I believe the Valais culture played a major role in allowing them to pull that off, too.
This same culture instills a tremendous sense of genuine hospitality among the people of Valais, hospitality even for outsiders who don’t speak the language – such as myself. Having made several trips to the area now, I’ve always been accommodated (in multiple senses) to a tremendous and humbling degree by Gui’s family and all the other people I’ve come to know and love there. On this most recent trip, Carole’s family, having never met me, both fed me and ferried me around Valais in the midst of wedding preparation, all while Google Translate and I did our best to have fellowship with them across the language barrier. These people, and those like them, help make Valais the special place that it is.
The mountains and all that comes with them constitute the natural side of the excellence of Valais. Residents and visitors, both, love Valais for its proximity to nature and the outdoors. With mountains all around, pure water, clean air, and sunshine most days of the year, Valais provides a blissful environment for those on whom the city grind has worn. Peacefulness having been noted, the very same elements provide the perfect outdoor setting for sport.
Like many others, I first came to Valais for its world-class skiing, an activity for which Switzerland and Valais are known the world around (Verbier and Zermatt being the most well-known of a multitude of resort towns) and which drives a huge portion of the local economy. While I’m told I have been very fortunate with snowfall in the seasons in which I have visited, it’s difficult for me to imagine more heavenly skiing conditions than what Valais provides.
My latest visit was my first in the summer, though, so I traded snowboard boots for hiking boots and romped around the Alps bathed in sunshine and surrounded by wildflowers. One evening I simply ventured up from my temporary mountain home of Vernamiège – a village of ~200 people perched on a mountainside above Val d’Herens – to see where my feet would take me. I had no destination in mind and reached none, but I did discover a few things.
First, Europeans generally do not waste time in getting up hills when it comes to trail design. Second, Switzerland has a prodigious number of wildflowers in the summertime. Third, there is some plant or bush in the Alps that stings when you brush up against it and for a while afterward, but it does not seem to leave an oily contagion or a rash behind. And fourth, no matter the season, if the altitude and no-nonsense climbing don’t take your breath away, the sweeping views will.
Another day, my friends and I ventured to the “left side” of Valais, well back into and above Val d’Herens, to hike up to a place called Lac Bleu (“Blue Lake”). Along the way, geological evidence of the valley’s origins stand inescapably prominent; at one point, the road actually cuts through a series of termite-mound-like rock formations left remaining, bare to the elements, from glacial recession up the valley. In most of these valleys, if you trek far enough up and along them, you can still find glaciers perched at their inception points, as I would discover on this particular day.
The little village at which the trail begins is called La Gouille, lying up a road that can be closed for long stretches in the winter time, forcing communities to store supplies in the event of prolonged isolation from their supply chains. The trail winds quickly between a handful of small cabin-like chalets, past a tiny, ambivalent chihuahua and a grey mid-2000s Mustang GT with neon purple racing stripes, and then quickly ventures up into the fantastical woods with little patience for physical weakness. The trail surges upward amidst verdant vegetation and floral abundance, accompanied by the tranquil sound of snow melt running down the slope in the opposite direction just below the trail.
Not long afterward, the trail flattens out briefly and skirts an upper basin or valley in which another village resides in the distance. Here we catch the first glimpse of the glacier at the top of the valley, sitting in powerful but dispassionate repose above the world.
The trail climbs once more among open, grassy slopes awash in the sound of Swiss cowbells and practically glowing from the sunshine. We pass another, still smaller set of limited-use cabins and follow a growing stream up a final hill to reach the lake, a sapphire lagoon set among an emerald sea of alpine grass dotted with gold blossoms, all against the backdrop of the stony Alps. The whole scene was reminiscent of a fairy tale.
After some time catching our breath and exploring the area, I said to Gui, “I think this might be one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been.”
“Yep, me too,” he replied, mind elsewhere as he processed the place.
Given that the water looked practically magical, we were compelled to experience it first-hand. Needless to say, the water was bitterly cold, but somehow we kept ending up back in the little lake after desperately escaping it moments earlier each time. Though truly painful while in it, the water left our legs feeling refreshed and, for my part at least, better, in some way that would be difficult to describe more eloquently.
A few picnic tables dotted the grassy hills around the lake, so we set up the small picnic lunch we brought with us and enjoyed the meal admiring the mountains around us. The fare, while portable, was not uncharacteristic of the Swiss diet generally – meat-based sandwiches on French bread with little fanfare besides.
The Swiss diet is comprised largely of crusty breads, strongly flavored meats, and strongly flavored cheeses. For lunch, meats can range from deli ham to salami to dried and cured jerky-like meats, only cut much more thinly and with a much stronger flavor. Dinner can incorporate cooked meats like steak, sausage, or bacon, sometimes cooked communally in a fondue pot or on a communal grill. Valais is also serious producer of wine, with vineyards plainly covering both slopes of the valley providing vintages to the canton and beyond.
On this particular day we had ham and salami with a number of packaged Swiss snacks. The only thing missing to make our lunch perfectly Swiss was some variety of cheese to be taken à la carte. On this day, too, we committed the grievous oversight of not bringing any Rivella to drink – a Swiss milk-based soda that is far more delicious than one might believe based on the description “milk-based soda” – so we settled for Coke (served ambiently, as usual), syrup (flavored syrup mixed with water, a typical refreshment), and water.
After the hike, we wound our way back toward the main valley and the city of Sion. While both of my friends grew up in villages above the valley, they live together in Sion now, the largest city in Valais by which the dividing line between the left and right sides – the Rhône – flows. The city itself has a rich history, from Celts to Romans to different medieval European peoples, and that history feels palpable while strolling up and down its sidewalks and staircases in the older parts of town. Dominating the city are three ridges that rise up from the middle of the valley floor like mini-Alps. Two of those ridges hold medieval buildings – one a castle and fortifications, the other an ancient Basilica, with both evoking the aesthetic of Edoras from the Lord of the Rings or something from the world of King Arthur. Like the rest of Valais, Sion is quiet and understated, but all the same it has a feeling of age that is impressive and somehow moving, only as a built environment rather than as a geological formation. Even so, that built environment feels as if it has its roots in the bedrock of this place, as if the town will outlast other settlements of similar size and activity just as the mountains around it will.
Valais is very much about juxtaposition: civilization with nature, independence with hospitality, peace with adventure. Some of these juxtapositions come with trade-offs: fewer jobs leading to long commutes, underdeveloped public transportation, AmEx being accepted nowhere, and the canton voting against drafting a bid for the Winter Olympics despite its traditions in the associated sports, to name a few. But Valais residents live where they do for any number of three reasons: mountains, peace, and family. All those trade-offs are fleeting while those three things remain.
Jumping back to the taste test, on the way down from Lac Bleu, we stopped briefly at a similar stream of water running down a grassy hill, like its counterpart leaping merrily off a small lip before continuing its journey downward. I cup my hands to collect some water, take a sip, and say quickly and calmly, “Yep, this is better.” Gui cheers and Carole rolls her eyes with a smile as we continue hiking downward. It was probably true, but either way, we all know where my heart lies.
#leftsidebestside #leftsideforlife