Alpine Panorama Trail – The first steps

Strange.

For a few moments a green jungle appears outside the window, hard to believe, but for a very short time neither a building nor a road nor any sign of civilization is visible. A rare sight in our paved-over country.

I'm sitting on the train in the direction of Lake Constance, looking out the window with still tired eyes, until Winterthur a familiar route to the HWV (now called ZHAW, Zurich University of Applied Sciences), at that time a weekly excursion to a class of bored students. Are there any memories left? Not many.

If I were to speak of a good night's sleep, it would be decidedly different from the weary 5 hours of last night. Which surprises me, because I usually sleep like a baby even before long trips. It must have something to do with the fact that this time I am anything but sure that I have made the right decision.

Anyway, even if the omen might turn out to be a bad one, I'm still on my way with anticipation and a heavy backpack. No idea whether I have traveled this route before, Eastern Switzerland has so far been rather rare on my travel list. In any case, I enjoy the last hours in a sitting position, because this privilege will be a rather uncommon phenomenon in the coming weeks.

 

Today's plan

The information on the schweizmobil platform is clear and unambiguous:

 

The first step (out of an estimated 800'000)

Then another train change, the trains are getting smaller and smaller, the passengers fewer, and so for a short time I am almost alone in the compartment. Next to me, a couple with a rather large dog has spread out. They look like hikers, in any case the dog carries his own luggage strapped to it. The master of the house speaks English on his cell phone, it sounds like very important problems. Quite earth-shattering for him, at best they elicit a weary smile from the others (including his wife).

Then Rorschach on Lake Constance. And again not the faintest idea whether I've been there before. The lake reflects a gray sky streaked with blue, maybe there will be a sunny day after all. Which would suit me very well. I pick up the map for the first time and find myself – hooray – on the Alpine Panorama Trail.

The green sign with the number 3 and the inscription Alpine Panorama Trail: will accompany me now, as a guide, as a signpost, as a companion through stick and stone, as a place of escape when all directions are unclear. What I do not know yet is the deep attachment to this stupid sign, which will arise in the course of the hike. But much more about that later ...

In any case, I forget to photograph the very first signpost, but voilà, this is the second, just before the path starts to climb for the first time. Not for the last time, as one may assume ...

 

Finally forest, meadows, nature

The first steps lead through habitable territory, people greet me casually, apparently heavily packed hikers are not a rare phenomenon. Or do I detect a faint pitying grin on the face of the man walking the dog? I don't care.

And lo and behold, the couple with the dog actually seems to be taking the same route. That's a good sign. I'm not the only nutcase.

 

And then Rorschach falls away behind me, it is going uphill, the first turnoff to a meadow, leading steeply uphill directly into the forest. Now I experience for the first time what I was looking forward to - forest paths, shady, smelling of fir trees and herbs, sometimes steep, then level again, alternately sweaty and relaxing again.

 

The lake looks up one last time, blinking, all blue, getting smaller and smaller. Sometimes Switzerland is really a postcard idyll.

Beautiful. Just beautiful.

 

 

And the signpost is already missing

In fact, it doesn't take long until I'm somewhat lost (not the last time) in front of an intersection. No signpost, there are two options right or left. I hate that, because my experience indicates that if I count on my intuition, it's guaranteed to go wrong. An elderly couple, armed with sticks but carrying light luggage, provides assistance. Thank you!

The first stopover, Wiehnachttobel, appears in the distance. A strange name. While hiking you have a lot of time to think about things that you normally don't care about. For example about this strange name. Has that to do with the birth of Christ? Was it possible that Jesus was not born in Bethlehem at all, but in this tiny little village? And nobody knows about it? The Pope should be informed about it, but alas, these are those completely stupid thoughts while hiking.

I hope for more meaningful reflections along the way.

Of course, the signpost in the village is missing once more, and once again the couple is at hand. We continue walking together for half an hour, and while I rave about my planned hike (which elicits a critical grin from the two) they tell me of their own very special hike. They have managed to hike through all the cantonal capitals without crossing a single route. A hike done in stages over several years, more of a logistical undertaking than a strenuous one.

 

Heiden

The sun is now a burning round thing in the sky, the backpack is getting heavier, but the spirit is there.

A junction. According to my map, the path to Heiden should turn right, but the couple advises me to take the road on the left, which is obviously shorter. Okay, why not. However, the asphalt road leads down the slope, cowbells accompany me, and soon I wonder if the two wanted to get rid of me. Who wants to blame them.

 

The path leads down into a deep gorge and naturally just as sweaty back up again. At least there is a tree, a bench, a place for the first picnic. The first of numerous others that will follow.

Then I reach Heiden, now in the heart of the Appenzellerland, just right for a well-deserved coffee. My two friends have also reached the village, say hello passing by.

I don't know all that much about the so-called Biedermeier village, apparently because of its neoclassical center (which I can't discover, though; perhaps I lack the neoclassical education). It is mainly known as a health resort. Many people have ended up here after a heart attack to get their heart pumping again in the enchanting, and above all probably incredibly boring, surroundings.

There is probably a lot more to say about the really beautiful village, but the hiker has to keep going.

 

The Kaienspitz

The path now climbs towards the Kaienspitz, the highest elevation of today's section. The climb is long and arduous, although the effort is alleviated by a light cool breeze. I pass a strange farm with dogs, free-roaming goats, geese, chickens and pleasantly grunting pigs, giving me a bored look.

 

 

While one of the dogs jumps up enthusiastically on my legs and receives a portion of petting in return, I greet a young woman who obviously belongs to the farm, but speaks only broken German. If there are still farms managed by hippies nowadays, this must be one of them. Unfortunately, the girl makes a shy and dismissive impression, otherwise I might have asked. It is exactly these encounters that make hiking so special.

The Kaienspitz turns out to be a wonderful vantage point for the whole area. The view stretches as far as St. Gallen and Wil, and you can't take your eyes off the enchanting landscape.

 

However, afterwards the descent is just as steep as the ascent before, and for the first time my knees are calling out, apparently considering the unaccustomed exertion anything but pleasant. Did I mention that the day before I left, my right knee tweaked badly during a silly movement in the garden? It caused me some concern, but I successfully suppressed this until the descent from the Kaienspitz.

Well, they will have to get used to it for better or for worse, as we've only been on the road for a few hours. So I try to walk slowly and carefully, trying to keep the strain as low as possible.

 

Rehotobel

Then Rehetobel, and already the next misstep in the figurative sense. According to the map, you follow the asphalt road down to the village, or I might, as I speculate, follow a narrow path down the slope to my destination. But then, lesson number one, you follow the map and not your own, usually wrong intuition.

In any case, the path initially leads along a fragrant meadow, as imagined, to a tree that absolutely wants to be photographed. It opens up the view on Rehetobel and also seems to be a specimen of particular tree beauty.

 

Unfortunately, the variant I chose turns out to be pretty stupid, because I have to take a big detour through steeply descending tarred roads, eliciting indignant cries from my damaged knees. Otherwise, there is not much to say about this village, it gives the impression that wealthy people live here, the numerous SUVs and the quiet streets smelling of a sleeping village testify of money, a lot of money.

 

The miserable Chaschtenloch

If I am not mistaken, I spot the day's destination Trogen on the opposite slope. With renewed vigor, I set off on the final section, called Chaschtenloch. Initially, there is not much of a hole to be seen, although the path leads further and further down and the slope up to Trogen appears steeper and steeper.

But the path is sadly not as nice as I love them, but steep and tedious. At least through shady forests, then again along flowering meadows that make walking a pleasure.

 

However, as soon as I reach the bottom of the valley by a lively bubbling brook, an ascent begins that is really tough. I promised the landlady of the Hotel Schäfli to call her when I'm nearby, she points out that I should take the last climb to Trogen slowly.

That warning would not have been needed, because after almost 7 hours, the level of my battery has slipped down into the red zone. Mamma mia! It is an intrinsically wide, but extremely steep natural road, without steps, without anything that could make the steps easier, so I struggle breathing heavily, sweating and cursing up the slope, I have to let myself fall in between times in the clover to bring the pulse to a more normal level.

The backpack now seems to weigh tons, in very weak moments I wonder why I'm doing this to myself. But it won't be the last time.

 

Finally in Trogen

Not even cursing anymore (I lack the breath for that), only wheezing I finally reach the old Landsgemeinde town, where alternately with Hundwil until the nineties the Landsgemeinde took place. A long time passed, a pity as it seems to me, but probably some serious circumstances have contributed to it (e.g. also the elections, in contrast to the canton of Glarus, were also held on the occasion of the Landsgemeinde).

The Hotel Schäfli is closed today, so I have to announce my arrival to the landlady by cell phone. Two bikers who want to complete part of the panoramic trail with the mountain bikes have arrived at the same time, and so we occupy the old hotel together, whose past seems to seep out of all cracks. But the room is okay, that's all I really need for the next night.

But the astonishing fact is that besides the Schäfli, which is closed today, there is just one restaurant in the whole village that is open (today for the first time since the corona pandemic). So a short time later I am sitting showered and with aching knees in the outdoor area of the restaurant in front of a beer. It is not only the first and well-deserved one, but also the first in a long line of also well-deserved beers.

Actually, this is the second visit, but like the first time the village seems to me to be architecturally a feast for the eyes, but otherwise as dead as a village can be. After dinner, I stand on the large square where the Landsgemeinde used to take place and wait for life. But there is nothing. Not a soul, not a sound except the chirping of birds, not even a car or a motorcycle. A strange feeling settles in.

 

What is happening here? Is it like the decline of so many communities of this size offering no future to the young and slowly but surely dozing off to a gentle sleep?

With this somewhat sad thought, I set out to lay my tired joints (with generous donations of Ibuprofen and Voltaren) and everything that goes with it down. It is still daylight outside the window when I lie down groaning, already thinking about tomorrow, which holds the next challenges ...

 

Matching Song:   The Prodigy- Firestarter

And here the trail continues ... to Appenzell