Holiday on the Alm
Only the cows and me: From the Wasserngrat above the Lauenental, you can look down on the world as if it were none of your business
Where does she come from, this childish rage? My throat feels like knotted, my heart is pounding. Tears are in my eyes. Good that nobody sees me. And only because of a few cows, who did not want the way I want. It's just past nine, a cool morning. I am sitting on a rock about 1900 meters above sea level. Simmer in me. Around me silence, meadows, peaks. Above me the sky. Below me, the valley, the wooded mountain slope and, above the edge of the forest, a pile of wooden houses: the Upper Brüeschen, that alp in the Swiss Saanenland, where I am a guest for a week.
The Alp is a world of its own, not far away, but light years away from the posh ski resort of Gstaad, out of reach of cars. Visitors have to overcome the last meters of altitude on foot. In the 200-year-old buildings are several stables, a "chuchi" with an open hearth, over which the copper "Kessi" hangs, a "Stübli" with tiled stove, two bedrooms and, in an unused barn, a shower. With the "Bähnli", a wooden sledge hanging from a winch, the cheese loaves made on the alp are transported down the slope and up the food. Electricity is available in the morning and in the evening for one hour each, when the diesel generator is running, with which the milking machine is operated.
I love the mountains. Because they are so big that you can feel small in their presence without being ashamed. When I arrived five days ago in this solitude from which one can look down on the world as if it were none of its business, it rained. The summits carried cloud gray, the houses sank into fog and mud. I shivered and thought: Here I do not want to leave so fast.
Meanwhile, the weather is better. The last few days I have spent in the same rhythm that everyday life on an alp - a kind of summer camp for cows - pretends: get up at 7.30 clock. Breakfast with Daniel, the cheese maker, and his assistant Bettina. Climb up to drive the dairy cows into the stable, spending the nights on the mountain meadows, where they feed vigorously in the evenings and early in the morning. Milking. Cheese: Heat the morning with the evening milk from the day before over the fire. Add bacterial culture and lab. Wait for the milk to "swallow", a jelly-like mass. Turn the "sip" and cut with the "cheese harp" until the whey settles, in which the "break" floats - white crumbs, which after prolonged stirring, waiting and heating with linen cloths drawn from the kettle, squeezed into a round shape and be formed into a cheese loaf under the ancient wooden press. In between, lunch. Turn the cheeses regularly, pulling the shape ever closer, so that as much liquid escapes before they are put into the salt bath the next day. Wipe the kitchen, from which you get into the barn and mist smeared at the latest in the afternoon. Walking around the mountain, sitting in the afternoon sun, reading. Milk again. Mucking. Dinner. For dessert, get the binoculars and watch chamois. Have a drink, talk, play cards. Sleep like a stone.
And who makes the crap away? Well, who are you? There is no dinner before
Only one long walk I have done since my arrival. Initially, it was a mixture of curiosity and courtesy that made me spend the day on the alp, cooking, helping in the stable. Daniel and Bettina toil from morning to night, I live with them under a roof, eat with them at a table - not to start with would have seemed improper to me. On the third day, I forgot to think about what I could do. I've been there, where everyone who goes on holiday in the mountains wants to go: up on the mountain. There was a lot to do on this mountain. Not having to worry about how to fill the day, losing all ambition, having seen as much as possible, having experienced. Just do the work that needs to be done, with the hands instead of the brain, with animals instead of computers, in wind and weather.
On the fourth day I strapped on the milking stool as a matter of course. I stopped thinking of something slippery when I took the teats of Huldi, Elvira or Flavia in my right hand to "lick it": to bring in the milk by hand, so that the teat stiffened and you can put on the milking crockery. I put my cheek to the bodies of the animals, inhaled their scent and did not flinch when the animal next to me slapped his dung on the stable floor.
I'm not a dropout type. Nevertheless, on the fifth day, I caught myself understanding Bettina, who at 23 gave up her job as a customs officer and moved out of town into the mountains. That was 1999, the year that Daniel was 20, the first time Käser went to the Alps and was looking for someone who could help him. Bettina and Daniel's fathers were friends, Bettina had nothing better to do, so she accepted the job as a "connoisseur". The people rumored: A "Unterländerin" on the Alp? Even with a younger man? No one doubts her anymore. It is the seventh summer that she works with Daniel on the Alpe, seven days a week, from morning to night, even with a fever: "There is no sickness, the animals must be taken care of." The rest of the year she works in hotels or cleans chalets that belong to some wealthy people from all over the world. She has much less money than she used to, and she is much happier: "In the evening, I know what I've done." Just that she has a boyfriend in the valley and still spend the summer with Daniel, the locals still hilarious: "One man for the summer, one for the winter!" One believes Bettina, when she says that she does not care: "The main thing, my friend trusts me."
This summer, there are 73 cattle from eight farmerswho supply Daniel and Bettina. 27 of them give the milk, from which the two produce the "Alpine cheese" day after day. Tourists in the valley are not so fond of buying cheese because it contains a particularly large amount of unsaturated omega-3 fatty acids, but because it tastes of originality: the cheese is made by hand, the art of cheese is passed on from generation to generation. Before Daniel it was his father, a farmer who spent summer after summer for about 100 days "z 'Bärg'. Daniel was already sitting as a child at the Resopaltisch, where we eat. Presumably there were already the plates and pots that pile up next to the sink until someone finds time to rinse them. The battery-powered lights, which hang under the wooden ceiling and spread a cold light, are among the innovations that Daniel has introduced. It took me a few days to dare to ask for candles. And when I placed flowers on the table that I had picked, Bettina asked, "Well, is there anything to celebrate?" For Bettina and Daniel, the Alpe is not the place of rustic cosiness that we dream of when we think of the mountains. She is simple: her workplace.
There is no leisure stress on the alp. The program is fixed. Milk in the morning and carry milk. Cheese for lunch. Milk and eat again in the evening: cheese fondue with Bettina and Daniel
The only thing I can not get used to is the coldthat crawls into the house with the darkness. According to the calendar, we still have summer, but at this altitude the thermometer is already quite low at night: in the kitchen it was 12 degrees yesterday evening. I sleep under heavy duvets in a sleeping duvet under a duvet. When I wake up at night, I think, "Do not go to the bathroom!" To loo would mean namely: looking for the flashlight, peeling from the down in the cold, slip into the tight rubber boots, wading through the smacking crap to the shed, in which the dump is. From the loo, through the cracks between the wooden slats, one can see the moon standing white over black mountains.
And now I'm sitting on the rock, howling with rage. I look at the Alp, at Bettina coming out of the stable. She looks up the mountain to see where the "Chüe" stay. I imagine her frowning, as she always does when she does not like something: the cows are not there. They ran away. They ran away from me. I ran, stumbled, got in the way of the cattle, shouted, waved the stick. The cows stared at me with wide eyes, as if they felt pity for the poor madman who was jumping in front of them. Then they made off slowly, into the forest where their bells ring. The cows can me. Bettina can see me. Most of all, Daniel knows me!
Like every morning, I went up the slope with him to look for the cows. As always, I ran because I wanted to save myself having to keep up with him. As always, he caught up with me before the finish line and threw me that look, in which, in addition to sly friendliness, something like amused mocking flashes out: he is the man who manages the path from the hut to the upper pasture boundary in four minutes , I am the woman who stops every ten paces to gasp. He is a 27-year-old car mechanic who works in the workshop during spring, fall and winter, and in the summertime on the Alpe, who wants to go to Mexico to learn Spanish. One who still wants to experience a lot before he takes over his father's farm. I am a 36-year-old who fled from everyday life on a mountain. He is a nature boy repairing fences, cutting down trees, thundering the mountain on an off-road motorcycle.I am the city dweller who buys cheeses in the supermarket and is not taken seriously by cows. "I can not do that," I'd said when he told me to drive the animals into the stable because he wanted to continue climbing to check on the calves and youngsters spending the summer outside. "You already do," he had answered, and there it was again, that flash in his eyes.
Dashing: cheese maker Daniel Hauswirth with one of the cheese loaves that he makes on the alp himself. On the sledge, they are brought down the valley
The day before yesterday I searched with him chanterelles and porcini mushroomsAfterwards we walked up to the ridge where he conjured a beer out of his backpack. We sat in the sun, cloud shadows moved over the boulder field in front of us. Daniel showed me the water pipe, which he has laid with his father and brother from Nebental to Alpe, because the Upper Brüeschen own source does not belong. I silently envied him this kind of life, in which one does not have to ask the meaning of his work, because it consists of natural necessities. But now, at this moment on the rock, my attempt to enter my world seems like a little, silly lie to me. A lie that was revealed because the cows saw through it. The cows have noticed that I'm just pretending. That I do not speak their language, that I feel stupid when I say "Hü Chüü!" call. Against all reason, I feel humiliated - like a child who, to amuse the grown-ups, struggles with a task that is no match for it. Well wait, I think and get up, stop Heidi! From now on I am only what I really am: a North German tourist.
When I arrive downstairs, Daniel and the cows are already in the stable: They have found their way alone. Very funny. I go to the kitchen and start cooking. Daniel's eyes are flashing, he says nothing. Later he asks if I want to help with the cheese. "No," I say, "and I told you right away that the cows are not listening to me." Come to Hamburg, I think. Daniel laughs. I laugh too. I sit in front of the stable and look at the mountains. Tomorrow I will leave. For the first time, I am looking forward to having to go home. In the afternoon Daniel drives to the valley. He asks if he should wash my clothes. "Not necessary," I say. "Your things smell like cow," he warns. I wave off: "Will not be so bad." 24 hours later, my children fall into my arms. The first thing my son says is, "You stink!" At home, I take off the fleece jacket immediately. I stuff my nose in it before stuffing it into the machine. I close my eyes. The jacket does not stink, I think, it smells. After Flavia, Huldi, Elvira, Lisa and Edelweiss.
travel information
The Alpe Brüeschen is at 1800 meters above the municipality Lauenen in the Swiss Saanenland near Gstaad and is, like all alps, farmed only in summer. At the end of June, the cattle are driven up to graze on the mountain meadows until mid-September. Daniel Hauswirth turns the milk into "Alpine cheese" - a seasonal specialty that is also produced in other Alpine regions, not to be confused with the "mountain cheese", which is produced all year round in the valleys. Guests can live and work on the alpine pastures. On request, there are also hikes, game drives or bike tours. From about 60 euros / day, five nights including full board and a trip for 286 euros, children under 12 only by arrangement. Tel. 00 41/79/244 80 87 or via the Tourist Office Gstaad / Saanenland, CH-3780 Gstaad, Tel. 00 41 / 33/748 81 81, www.gstaad.ch
Clamber from hut to hut, climb summits, walk across meadows and alpine pastures - the best tips for those who want to go high
Swiss Alpine Club. For hut accommodation in Switzerland, the local Alpine Club is responsible - he will issue a "hut finder" for all hiking regions, as well as a list of hiking and climbing tours in summer and winter (CH-3000 Bern 23, Tel. 00 41/31/370 18 18, Fax 370 18 00, www.sac-cas.ch).
Austrian Alpine Club. Provides a good overview of climbing and hiking tours, habitable huts and events around the Austrian mountains (Wilhelm-Greil-Str. 15, A-6010 Innsbruck, Tel. 00 43/512/595 47, Fax 57 55 28, www. alpenverein.at).
German Alpine Club. Family hiking in Bavaria, climbing courses for the brave or the "Tour of the Week" (Von-der-Kahr-Str. 2-4, 80990 Munich, Tel. 089/14 00 30, www.alpenverein.de).
German hiking association. Paths, accommodations, maps, regions and lots of tips for hiking (Wilhelmshöher Allee 157-159, 34121 Kassel, Tel. 05 61/93 87 30, Fax 93 87 310, www.wanderverband.de).
HMS cottage rental service. 300 cabins and chalets from simple to luxurious in Germany, Austria, France, Italy and Switzerland. Special requests like sauna or snow guarantee are included (Feldkirchner Str. 114, A-9020 Klagenfurt, Tel. 00 43/463/550 80, Fax 550 80 19, www.huetten.com).
ASI Alpine School Innsbruck. 150 hiking destinations in the whole world, from the multi-day hut hike in the Alps to the tour of the Troodos mountains in Cyprus. All guided hikes (In the silence 1, A-6161 Natters, Tel. 00 43/75 12/54 60 00, Fax 54 60 01, www.asi.at).
Europe hiking hotels. If you walk properly, you also have to sleep well. With this provider you can certainly find the right accommodation (PF 100, A-9773 Irschen, Tel. 00 43/47 10/27 80, Fax 278 08, www.wanderhotels.com).
Book tips to prepare and follow
Hike. Small philosophy of passions. Friend's book of the traveling freak Frank Gerbert, who describes and explains the German passion for hiking in a very entertaining way (dtv, 7,50 Euro). family mountains - the slightly different hiking book. Mirjam Hempel has compiled 39 family-friendly hikes through the Bavarian Alps, Tyrol and the Salzburger Land with pictures, information and stories about each region. Practical: the list of Refreshments and swimming and attractions on each tour (blv, 17,50 Euro). Dream paths from hut to hut. 15 walks from hut to hut in the Alps, one more beautiful than the other. Mark Zahel presents classics, insider tips and newly designed routes, and because so many great photos are there, you want to start immediately (Bruckmann Verlag, 45 euros).
