In Glacier Country: 12 June 2011

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As we have no supplies at all, we head to the shop first thing to buy food. Prices are eye-watering. We have a croissant and some bread and sit out on the veranda. A cat comes by and says hello. Rolls on the flagstones and tries to go inside – nope, we’re both fond of cats, but this is not its home. So, it duly slinks off to return a little later – with the same result. At midday, the church bell rings to summon the faithful to Mass. We can hear the clank of cowbells, the chirp of crickets and the rushing of the Massa river behind the trees. The cablecar moves up and down to and from Belalp, 2,400 feet higher, and the odd plane flies by. Even a cuckoo calls in the woods in the distance. Peace and quiet! After lunch, we head out for a walk around the village. We walk past the chalet where we stayed in the 70s and 80s, which has been renamed and extended. I cannot manage the ascent, being out of practice and not used to the altitude (4,400 feet). We return to the village and walk the track that leads out to the next hamlet down towards Brig, called Geimen, but ending the walk at the last house of Blatten. The wild thyme there smells very pleasantly, but the ants are rather large. Blatten has a recycling centre, which is guarded by CCTV. Any inappropriate dumping is punishable with a fine of 5,000 francs. As tomorrow is the second day of the Pentacost holiday, shops will be closed. I have to find an adapter for my battery charger. Although I bought one for use on the continent, the Swiss sockets don’t take this.

The sun disappears behind clouds in the evening, as rain is forecast overnight. I can only just make out the weatherforecast, as the TV presenter gives it in the local dialect. I have no difficulty understand German, but the Swiss dialect is another matter. In the evening, we walk up the road to the barrage at Gebidum, a mile or two outside of Blatten. This stems the outflow of melt waters from the Aletsch Glacier to the northeast. This is a 14 mile river of ice. We pass the hamlet of Stalden, where a flower arrangement cheers up the engine compartment of a wrecked car. Our return takes us down a forest track, which delivers us virtually by the back door.