Not Ireland Vol. 7: The Dweeb’s Guide to Skiing in Switzerland (Part 1)

I’ve been putting off writing this post because I know whatever I write will never properly encapsulate the absolute spectrum of experiences that was this weekend skiing in Switzerland. I’ve talked a lot about high highs and low lows in my posts throughout these months abroad, and while figuratively these have reflected the vast range of emotions one encounters while living in a new country, none of them quite compare to the literal highs (10,000+ feet up) of the Swiss Alps or the lows (sliding down a mountain on your butt) that comes along with it. There is just so much to capture, so many stories to tell, and none of them will be adequately portrayed by a lowly engineer with a blog.

So all of that in mind, I guess the only thing I can do is just start typing and see where it takes me.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the story of Zermatt.

The Story of Zermatt

I guess the tale begins a few months prior, when the idea of a ski trip was first floated out to the group. Wayfish took the lead on planning and presented a few options of where to go in Europe. Me, having very little skiing experience, really had no right to have an opinion on the matter. So naturally, I had an opinion on the matter.

You see, growing up a child Disneyland enthusiast, it was on my bucket list of all bucket lists to see the real-life Matterhorn that was the inspiration for the beloved Disney ride. I also grew up hearing stories of my dad skiing Zermatt who urged me to do the same if I ever got the chance. The problem was the majority of the group grew up in *cough* Ohio or other Midwestern states and had absolutely no idea what I was talking about or why I was so jazzed up about the topic (the notable exception being IrishJacqui, she got me). Any time the subject was brought up, I would politely make my opinions known until finally everyone was on board. I’m nothing if not persistent.  

I had no idea if there was even good skiing in Zermatt, but I knew we were going to see Matterhorn, and therefore I was happy.

The Polestar

The girls in the group consisted of IrishJacqui, Curd Thief, myself, and Most Amazing Impromptu Ski Instructor Ever (MAISIE for short), and we traveled to Zurich early in the morning. The boys (Wayfish, Handyman, and Dayton) followed on a flight later in the day. Zermatt is a 3.5 hour drive from Zurich, and the plan was for all of us to rendezvous at the Airbnb later in the evening. To do this, we first needed to pick up our rental car.

As the ~planner~ that I am, I had made my rental car reservation a couple months in advance and remembered nothing of what I had done. I go up to the counter, the guy pulls up my reservation, and then he says, “a Polestar, yes?” Me, a car expert, said “sure” thinking it was, I don’t know, a Chevy or something. I signed the paper and took the keys without a second thought.

So as it turns out, Polestars are very expensive, fancy cars. It also turns out they are 100% electric. The more you know.

Sure, we probably (definitely) should have asked for a different car, especially considering we were driving 3.5 hours to a remote mountain town. At the very least, though, we did have the foresight to check that there was a charging station at our destination and even did some quick maths to make sure we would, you know, make it there. We are engineers, after all.

Well, I can confirm we did in fact make it there. Was I sweating a little as we drove switchback turns through the mountains in the pitch-black night while watching the charge steadily drop? Was I stressed as we pulled into our final destination with our charge at 4%? I will leave it at, we made it and that’s all that matters.

 The Night Before

So we get there, the boys get there, and we are fully assembled, ready to take the mountain by storm.

I should preface this with the fact that there were two very clear camps within the group: the Pros (Wayfish, MAISIE, Dayton, Handyman) and what I will affectionately refer to as the Dweebs (IrishJacqui, Curd Thief, and myself). We had all skied before, but the last time I hit the slopes was two years ago in Maine, and something told me this was going to be a big, “we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto” moment as I took on one of the most iconic mountains in the world.

With this in mind, we did a little reconnaissance that night in the Airbnb. We scoured the map as the Pros gave us Dweebs the lowdown. In Switzerland there are 4 levels: Blue, Red, Black, and Yellow. When we innocently inquired what level a Yellow was, the only response we got was, “whatever you do, stay away from the Yellows.” Noted.

The Train Up

The next morning there was a palpable air of excitement amongst the group as we took the train up to the mountain. For some, it was the anticipation of the fresh air on their faces as they carved their way down the slopes. For me, it was simply to see the mythical mountain that held so much meaning for me for so long. Sure, sure I was excited about skiing too, but we were going to see the Matterhorn. I mean how cool is that?

 As the train made its way to the ski resort, the Dweebs started discussing our plan of attack on arrival. We decided we would start on the bunny slopes, get our sea legs, and then slowly work our way up the mountain. The three of us were in agreement and felt good about the skiing soon to come.

 Then the doors of the train opened.

The First Crawl

I should start with the view, which was absolutely incredible. Even with a thick cloud layer you were surrounded by sprawling white-capped mountains as far as the eye could see. Before doing anything, I made sure to take a second to just soak in the beautiful scenery around me and lament on how lucky I was to be there. But then as I was soaking, the little logical part of my brain started wondering how the view could be that good from the bunny slopes. I snap out of my soak and actually start to take in my immediate surroundings.  

What I saw was not promising.

The train had taken us all the way to the top of the mountain, and as you could imagine, there was only one other way down. This was a baptism-by-fire situation and yes, a few quick prayers were muttered in my head as I inched my way to the crest.

I’m not going sugarcoat it, that first run was rough. It’s probably generous to even call it a run. It could more aptly be described as a slow, painful crawl down the face of the mountain, emphasis on the slow. The Pros would stop and wait for long stretches of time as the Dweebs caught up, and while they were extremely kind and patient, it could not have been any more fun for them than it was for us. Eventually, though, we all made it somewhat unscathed to the bottom.

The Dweebs Venture Out

After a couple of more successful runs, the Dweebs set the Pros free to go do some big kid skiing as we embarked on our own for the first time. We did one more run, then decided to reward ourselves for our efforts with a lunch break. Homemade PB&Js, Swiss chocolate, and $7 glasses of tap water – what more could you ask for?

Once our tummies were full and our legs revived, we decide to once again face the slopes. We were just starting to get the hang of things for real when we get a call from the Pros.

Pros: You guys have to come join us at this Après (a ski-up bar on the mountain, for the uninitiated) (which for the record was definitely not me prior to this weekend) called Hennu Stall, apparently it’s the place to be

Dweebs: Okay, how do we get there?

Pros: It’s about halfway down a Red, but don’t worry, it’s not that hard I’m sure you guys can do it

Dweebs (who have only ever gone down Blues): Cool cool cool cool cool cool yeah that’s no problem (Narrator: It was, in fact, a problem)

The Dweebs Ride a Gondola

Now, I think I need to set the scene for you a little bit here – the mountain…the mountain is huge and there are a million different lifts and gondolas going to a million different places. If you didn’t know where you were going or you weren’t, say, an expert skier, it would be pretty easy to get lost. Okay anyways back to the story.

We find the correct gondola to take us to the lift we need to get on. Let me just say, the gondola was probably the highlight of our whole day. The views were absolutely stunning as you float through the sky of one of the most beautiful places in the world. We took in our surroundings while simultaneously debating our plan of attack in skiing to the infamous Hennu Stall. Curd Thief liked the idea of taking the gondola all the way down to the base of the mountain and hiking up to the bar.

The Dweebs Go to Italy (Almost)

Per my default personality, if someone has a strong opinion about something, 99.9% of the time I will happily oblige. So when I boldly took the opposite stance and didn’t immediately cave, you knew something was up. My one shin was in so much pain that the mere thought of walking more than a couple of yards brought small tears to my eyes. I boldly claimed we would have no problem skiing down to the bar and held my stance firm. IrishJacqui, the moderator, was right in the middle. So entrenched were we in our conversation that it wasn’t until we were well past our stop did we realize we were still on the gondola, still going up, up, up.

A quick glance at the map told us it’s a good thing we looked at the map because we were officially one stop away from Italy. That’s right, if we spent any more time debating, we would have gondola-ed right over into another country.

You know that song that goes, “I’m all the way up!“? Well that was us, we were all the way up and were not quite sure what to do about it.

We finally figure our lives out and make it to the correct stop, but by then it was late in the afternoon and the sun was beginning its descent over the mountain.

But that was only the beginning.

Bad News Bears: A Dweeb Story

As we stare at the map and then the slopes surrounding us, something wasn’t adding up. We couldn’t find the signs for the Red we needed to take us to the Après. The other issue too is not just that you might take the wrong run. It’s that if you take the wrong run you might end up skiing a Yellow, which would have been bad news bears to put it lightly. So it’s safe to say we were a little nervous.

We finally have the foresight to call the Pros who confirm, yes, we are on the right track. Perfect. Now all we have to do is ski down and meet them at the bar. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Well I am here to tell it was not easy peasy lemon squeezy. It was difficult pifficult lemon squifficult.

End of Part I.

Coming Up on Meg’s Miles and Smiles

And that my friends takes you to the end of Part 1 of the Story of Zermatt. Do the Dweebs make it to the Apres? Do they survive a whole second day of skiing? Will they ever actually see this Matterhorn they keep talking about? Tune in next week for all of this and MORE, only on www.megsmilesandmiles.com .