Adrenaline Junkie: Day 7, Switzerland

I woke up with my phone immediately on my mind, which still didn’t turn on despite being on the charger all night. I quickly scurried downstairs in my socks to the bulletin board with the wifi password to research what could be wrong. Using my tablet, a quick search walked me through the typical steps: try a different cable, try a different outlet, check for debris — all of which checked out. The last step before taking it to a professional to consider potential hardware issues was a force restart. Without getting my hopes up too much and preparing for the worst, but still crossing my fingers, I followed the force restart directions, holding my breath as I held down the power and volume button for 10-20 seconds. I felt the weight of every second until I the Galaxy startup logo appeared, and seconds later, my home screen. Relief and gratitude washed over me. Whether I was being tested or punked, I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it was because yesterday I said that my blogs were going to be boring because everything has been going so smoothly.

Now that I was out of in crisis mode, I could move forward with my day. My friends were able to hike the Via Ferrata this morning, which meant I had the morning and early afternoon to myself. As they prepared for their adrenaline rush, I was looking forward to my rooftop yoga class. It was very last-minute, so when I emailed them for a spot, I didn’t expect a response, but I figured if I showed up with cash in hand, it wouldn’t be a problem. 

Cash…I had not bothered to get any Swiss Francs, and high up in the middle of nowhere, I wasn’t sure how accessible it would be. I also realized the yoga class was in Murren, not Gimmelwald, which was a village further up the mountain (on the gondola that only leaves every half hour) and on the other side of town, no less. I looked at the time: I had one hour. 

I asked the receptionist if there were any ATMs nearby, and by God’s grace, I was told there was one in Murren next to the gondola station. I scarfed down the rest of my bread and jelly, took two large gulps of my coffee, quickly washed my dishes, grabbed my things, and hurried out the door to the gondola, where I found Chyanne and Maddie sitting on the bench waiting. Apparently, the gondola was running late (we were all going up to Murren). I got my ticket and anxiously twiddled my thumbs as we waited. When the gondola finally arrived, it was a quick ride up. In one breath, I said goodbye to Chyanne and Maddie and wished them luck on their hike before searching for the ATM. I looked to the right side of the station where I was told it would be and ended up trekking up the road and around the corner for a good 5-10 minutes, looking closely at every building, nook, and cranny for any signs of an ATM, before reaching a dead end and frustratingly walking back towards the station. I was not counting on this taking so long. I passed a tour group and eyed the tour guide, positive they would know where it was located. Negative. I walked back inside the gondola station and approached the agent behind the ticket counter, who insisted the ATM was right outside to the left. Still dumbfounded, I leave the station once again and look to my left, where I spotted an ATM sign that blended into the ceiling. Due to the walled construction, the ATM was hidden, its entrance easy to miss, but I was relieved to have cash in hand. Although at this point, I would have to run, and MAYBE I would be only 5 minutes late. 

For as little as the village was, it sure was long. I had gotten in a solid cardio workout that included quite a few hills as I sprinted to class. I slowed as I neared the rooftop terrace and found it empty, surprisingly not surprised. Huffing and puffing, I found a seat on the steps of the terrace and opened up my email, where I found a reply from the yoga instructor that read: I am so sorry but there is no yoga this morning - it is on Thursdays at 17:00 but I must have forgotten to change one of the posters somewhere! Sorry for the inconvenience and let me know if you are interested in the Thursday class. Unfortunately, I would be on my way to Barcelona on Thursday. I was a little disappointed that I had spent close to $15 on a round-trip gondola ride for nothing, but at least I got a workout in. It wasn’t as relaxing as I had hoped, but it was movement nonetheless. 

My afternoon back at the hostel was much more peaceful. With my phone on the charger, I ordered a coffee and set up my laptop on one of the picnic tables outside overlooking the mountains. The sun was shining, and it wasn’t too hot or too cold — a perfect September day as summer transitioned into autumn. Most of all, the view was stunning. Altogether, it was the perfect condition for blogging. 

I had just finished my first post (six days later) when Chyanne and Maddie got back from their hike, looking like they just came back from working the mines — their hair disheveled, clothes dirty, and walking a little slower than usual. I could feel their aching joints just looking at them. We split a margharita pizza for lunch as they showed me pictures and told me all about their adventure. 

Since the girls had to go back up to Murren to return their hiking equipment, we thought we would try hiking the Murren to Gimmelwald trail before traveling to Interlaken for our paragliding reservation (which still hadn’t set in at this point). It wasn’t until after we bought our tickets up to Murren, however, that we did the math and realized there simply wasn’t enough time. I loitered by the ticket station and tried to sell off my ticket, not wanting to waste another ticket to Murren, but luck did not find me. I tried to be thankful for the view as I walked with Chyanne and Maddie to return their equipment before turning right back around to the station. Since the girls were leaving the mountain hostel today, they had to grab their bags in Gimmelwald before heading all the way down the mountain. Not wanting to spend money on another gondola if I didn’t have to, I told them I would meet them at the bottom, taking the ride directly from Murren to Stechelburg. 

Time was ticking, and there was still no sign of the girls as I waited for them in Stechelburg. The last bus that would get us to Interlaken on time was just around the corner when I got their message that they missed the gondola and would be running late while waiting for the next one. I would have to go on ahead without them. In my head, I’m thinking there’s no way these two talked me into paragliding, and I’m gonna have to jump off this cliff by myself (per the instructors, cancellation was not an option). They assured me, however, that they would only be 15 minutes late and to let the instructors know. 

I took the bus and train to Interlaken, just a half-hour trip, and walked quickly to the meetup point, trying to find a sandwich or snack along the way to settle my nervous stomach. Among all the souvinir shops I walked by, however, I didn’t find anything to eat. I reached the meeting point and must’ve been the first to arrive. If it wasn’t for the paragliding artwork on one of the walls, I would’ve second-guessed whether I was in the right place, especially because I was basically in an alley next to some garbage bins. No one else in sight still, I debated leaving to seek out some food a little further down until someone else arrived. He was paragliding as well, his first time also, and we bonded over our fear of heights/falling, the relatability easing the nerves a bit — although I was still feeling the faintness of hunger. The rest of the crew arrived shortly after, along with the van that picked up my friends from the train station. We stored our bags in a locked bin as the instructors checked us in and assigned our instructors. Then, to the group and no one in particular, one instructor with a helmet asked us, “Who would like to ride up the mountain on the motorbike?” My hand shot up. 

I felt absolutey alive as I secured my phone in my pocket and hopped on the back of the bike. I guess the idea of jumping off a cliff was channeling my inner adrenaline junkie. The driver asked if I’d ridden a motorbike before; I told him a few times. 

It was a 20-30 minute ride up to the jump. The ride through town was beautiful as the sun bounced off my visor and exhilarating as we zoomed up the mountain. Although, I was more focused on the turns ahead and my job as passenger than the views beside me. Eventually, we rounded our final corner, where I saw rows of paragliders, not jumping off the edge of a cliff, but running down a large field before catching flight, and all my nerves vanished. I smiled: I could totally do that. When we came to a stop at last, I was pround as my driver told me I was a good rider and that he could tell I’d ridden before. Soon, the others arrived in the van with our parachutes, along with my instructor, Christine. 

I swear the last person wasn’t even out of the van yet, and my instructor and I had barely made introductions, before she was strapping us in our harness, and we were running down the hill. In seconds, we were in the air. The high, no pun intended, was unreal at first — the coolest thing I’d ever done, although looking back, the motorcycle ride was pretty up there. We were as high as Harder Kulm, not to be mistaken for Heidi Klum, over 4,000 ft. above the city. Mountains of forest surrounded us below with the glistening blue lake to our right and snow-capped peaks stunned us in the distance. I tried to ignore my instructor’s clearly rehearsed and very redundant “ooo’s and awe’s” as I absorbed the views. 

I realized we were going in circles, and I thought we were stuck in an air current or something, and my mind gravitated towards the thought of crashing into the trees underneath us, until my instructor let me know she was trying to get us above Harder Kulm. The motion was making me nauseous, though, and I wondered if food would’ve hurt me or helped me at this point. Eventually, the people-pleasing side of me decided I was no longer having fun and needed to stop going in circles. Despite my instructor’s relentless effort to try “one more time”, I finally convinced her that I would prefer to move on. I was relieved to reach the others that were flying closer to the lake above the city. My instructor continued to take photos and videos, which I was grateful for, but also killing the vibe a bit as I tried to be as present as possible. Then, she asked me if I wanted to try some tricks. Admittedly getting a little bored, I hastily agreed, eager to mix things up. 

Big mistake. As we started spiraling and flipping, my nausea quickly returned. There was no time for people-pleasing as I firmly but politely exclaimed, “Maybe no!” By this time, I was ready to be on land again. The expected 15-20 minute flight had turned into a good 30-40 minutes due to good flying conditions, which normally I would be grateful for if I wasn’t feeling so sick. That being said, I was relieved when she said it was time to land. She may have sensed I was done, but the others shortly joined us on the ground. We took one final picture together before she downloaded the 100+ photos and videos to my phone and walking back to grab my belongings. 

I waited for Chyanne and Maddie and walked with them to drop off their bags at their hostel before we found dinner as the sun set over the lake. We ended up at an Asian restaurant where we had our largest meal yet. We tried to take advantage, especially given the price, but were basically force-feeding ourselves by the end, our stomachs having shrunk over the weeks. 

It was getting late, and I still needed to catch a train and gondola back to Gimmelwald where I was staying one more night. We said our goodbyes at the restaurant and went our separate ways. Within a couple hours (I waited a long time for the bus in Lauterbrunnen), I was back in the remote village of Gimmelwald for my last night in the mountains. 

Travel tips I learned today:

• If you ever come across a flyer on a bulletin board in the mountains of Switzerland, make sure to confirm said event beforehand, unless you don’t mind a spontaneous cardio workout.

• Face your fears! Even if it’s baby steps. Traveling is the best time to face your fears, because you’re already reinventing yourself. I’ve been challenging my fear of heights, and I think it’s working!

• Paragliding is not for the weak. Prepare for motion sickness! Also, make sure you’ve had a good meal beforehand…just maybe not right beforehand.