The high mountains

Georg Friedrich Wilhelm Hegel did not like the high mountains: “The sight of these eternally dead masses gave me nothing but the monotonous and increasingly tedious impression: it is what it is,” the philosopher noted during a crossing of the Alps. As a lowland dweller, he “always longs for openness, for expanse, and his gaze always runs into rocks.” Poor man—no vistas, just those rocks everywhere.

Every hiker knows that there are indeed major differences between hiking in the Alps and hiking in lower mountain ranges. In the high mountains, when the trail goes uphill, it usually goes uphill for a very, very long time. In a lower mountain range, for example, I leave the Rhine Valley, climb—at most—200 meters in elevation, and enjoy the view. In the high mountains, I climb 1,000 meters in elevation, up steep ramps and rocky paths. And if I’m lucky, I’m already at the summit. If I’m unlucky, I’ve only reached an alpine pasture, and then I have to climb once again to reach the summit destination.

You also realize that you are in the high mountains when, in spring—April or May—you plan a fun hiking trip. But it quickly becomes clear that, first, you have put on the wrong clothes, because, second, the temperature seems to drop by two degrees with every step, and, third, you should not have set off without snowshoes, since you sink half a meter into the snow with every step.

But even in midsummer, the high mountains have their hazards for hikers. Many alpine trails require not only sure footing but also intense concentration on every step. That means your eyes are always on the ground, not on the landscape. It’s a shame, really, because I’m told the views in the high mountains are supposed to be beautiful. Honestly, a mountain panorama is of course magnificent. So I cannot understand Marcel Reich-Ranicki’s quip about alpine views: “What do you mean, beautiful view? There are mountains everywhere in the way.”

If I were to attempt a typology of the high-mountain hiker, I would claim that he most closely resembles the lone-wolf type. The mountain and I, locked in an eternal struggle over who is stronger. Another forty-five minutes to the summit? The competitive spirit awakens: I can do it in half an hour. I wonder, does it really have to be this way?

Well, you’ve probably noticed by now that, all in all, hiking in the high mountains isn’t really my thing. The hiking psychologist says: I’m probably stuck in a pre-civilizational phase: the fear of tall, rugged mountains dominates me. The mountains as an enemy. In centuries past, stagecoach drivers crossing the Alps would draw the curtains of the coach so that the travelers would not be distressed by the sight of the terrifying mountains. I don’t see it that way. I quite enjoy looking at the mountains. However, in my opinion, they are not necessarily suitable for hiking.

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