Moleson and Me pt III: Leaving Switzerland

My time in Lausanne Switzerland is drawing to an end.  As I’m happily moving on to another postdoc in Southern Indiana I find myself trying to wrap my head around the running experiences I’ve had in the past year.  Thus it that for my final weekend mountain run I found myself on top of Moleson, heartrate over 190, gasping for breath, exalted in the beauty of what I’ve decided to be my favorite local mountain.

Moleson and Me

The places we run carry connotations defined by the emotions we bring to them, and experiences we've had on previous trips.  I spent the spring training for the Zurich marathon.  I probably only missed 2-3 weekends in the mountains in favor of long road runs along Lake Geneva but I’m actually not a road runner at all.  In April the mountains finally opened up and I summitted Moleson with the promise of a long and prosperous summer mountain running in the air.  My body was slowly awakening from the slumber of a cold and dark winter spent between a far too small studio apartment and a packed subway train.  I enjoyed to ridgeline so much I returned a week later to show my friends. 

The classic Moleson Teyschaux ridgline

Given that I had only 1 year to explore my surroundings I spent the rest of summer weekends all over Western Switzerland (Suisse Romande, the French speaking part).  The Jura’s, which form the border with France, the Valaisan alps, Cornettes de Bise, the Val Ferret, Les Diablerets, Rochers de Naye, Col de Lys, Pic Chaussy, the list goes on an on.  Ultimately it’s hard to not draw a comparison between the Swiss mountains and the mountains of my home, the American West.  The two could not possibly be more different in terms of our (humans) relationship with them.

Approaching Moleson from the North

I never found anything remotely resembling a wilderness in Switzerland.  In fact many of mountains here have restaurants at the top, which can be reached in the comfort of a gondola.  There are cows EVERYWHERE.  Essentially the entire crest of the Jura mountain range is cow pasture.  I grew up on the Pacific Crest Trail.  Not literally, but actually, yes literally.  I hiked days upon end entering and exiting one wilderness after another.  Wilderness is the most important idea in the world, not tax cuts for the rich, not medical care reform, food aid to Africa, Saudia Arabian women behind the wheel of a car, Greece’s financial obligations to the EU, or the rise of China. 

Descending Moleson's eastern switchbacks

The concept was invented in America, literally.  In the 1800s, it was essentially invented as an idea and then a state institution by a Scottish immigrant named John Muir to whom we owe so much of our legacy.  The American Wilderness Act was passed into law in 1964.  It reads

“A wilderness, in contrast with those areas where man and his own works dominate the landscape, is hereby recognized as an area where the earth and community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain.”

Amazing.  In the American West it’s almost by default that we accept the idea of a wilderness.  It’s our legacy.  In Switzerland, at least as far as I can tell after an entire year’s worth of weekends running in the mountains, wilderness does not exist at all whatsoever.  One is never more than a kilometer from the nearest restaurant, furnicular train, cow, or electric fence.  Nature has ceased to exist outside of the scope of human economic enterprise.  The mountain meadows have been grazed so long that ‘pasture’ has simply replaced the word and meaning of ‘meadow’.  The physical effects are obvious and ubiquitous.  But what works beneath the surface is insidious and dangerous.  Nature has taken on a different meaning for many Europeans.  On a continent where the idea of wilderness has for the most part been lost for many many generations, ‘nature’ has come to encompass agricultural and pastoral activity, simply because there is no other alternative.  I could go on about this forever, but actually I prefer to think instead about what and incredible idea we have back in the American West.  Wilderness.  A healthy relationship with our mountains.  Thank you John Muir.   

The SouthEastern approach from Les Paccots

Garmin says 3900 ft of vertical in 13.8 miles.  The final pitch up to Teyschaux's summit (red track in front left) was at 42% grade (1180 ft in 0.53 mi).

The detritus of years worth of weekends spent in the mountains of Western Switzerland.