A Little Life in the Alps

There’s an animal here we can’t, for the life of us, figure out the name of. I think it’s a mountain goat… maybe an ibex? A steinbock? We’re not sure—or at least the Swiss translation escapes us. Either way, it’s an impressive-looking beast that lives its life on the craggy, rugged slopes of the alpine, surefooted and agile.

I believe—after some observation—that Swiss kids are born with a little DNA from whatever this animal is in their blood. I’ve watched, on more than a few of our hikes now, Sabine and Yvan’s kids run effortlessly up and down steep, loose-graveled slopes with ease. I, on the other hand, have tripped over parking lot lines, and on at least one occasion, narrowly avoided getting my foot caught in an escalator at the train station.

The kids—and their parents—seem completely fearless when it comes to the outdoors, and appear, at least on the surface, pretty nonchalant in their approach. It should have raised an eyebrow when one of the neighbours, Manue, suggested bringing helmets to a “hike” we were invited on this evening.

To be absolutely fair, Sabine (who I spend a good amount of time teasing and who is probably reading this now, wondering whether this is part of the 80% or the 20% of BS I write) had warned us that maybe this hike would be a little too much for Cedar. Maybe it was her way of actually saying it was too much for me—likely me—to tackle.

Either way, we joined the full gang—Céline, David, and their kids, the Manues and their kids, and Sabine and Yvan with the girls—for a trek up to Le Dent de Jaman, and figured we’d make the call once we arrived whether we’d continue on to the actual “tooth.”

The hike from the parking spot to the base of the tooth was uneventful. Cedar, faithfully wearing his bike helmet, kept up gamely with the kids as they ran uphill. But once we hit the base of the tooth itself, things started to look a little… sketchy.

Now, full disclosure—this is all on me. I came to Switzerland ill-prepared for this kind of hiking. In fact, I’m probably a perfect poster child for what not to do in Switzerland on a mountain trail. My shoes—Skechers, which are incredibly comfortable and surprisingly durable on flat ground—are about as useful as ice skates on a climb like this. Cedar’s footwear wasn’t much better.

So, about halfway up the tooth and already lagging behind the group, we made the very wise decision to abort the mission and head back to the restaurant. There, from the comfort of a picnic table—Cedar with a syrup, me with a beer—we watched the rest of the crew summit the tooth.

I won’t lie—I was holding my breath as I watched them scramble hand-over-hand up what looked like near-vertical rock. Cedar, who I really hope I’m not giving a complex to, was noticeably nervous and very, very happy to see his mom return in one piece, with a big smile on her face from the stunning views at the top.

I’m proud she did it—but even more relieved we made the wise call to sit this one out. For Cedar and me, that climb will be something to look forward to on a future visit—when we have better shoes, and maybe when Cedar’s dad is a little less nervous.