Unaware it would be our last chance at travel for a very long time, we departed our little village of Thornbury in the summer of 2019 for a fairly epic European adventure. I managed to squeeze a short backcountry hut trip into a hotel-filled itinerary, hoping to whet my family’s appetite with a taste of this classic Alpine tradition. This morning we awoke in Zermatt, dozens of Sunday church bells clanging over the rushing Matter Vispa river as the sun rose on the Matterhorn. A six-train afternoon, punctuated by dizzyingfast connections and multi-platform sprints, landed us here in Engelberg—a summertime-sleepy ski town tucked deep in a narrow valley of the Swiss Alps. For nearly two weeks we’ve jumped from train to train and village to village, hiking, biking and eating our way through the emerald valleys of Austria and Switzerland. Engelberg marks the starting point of our final mountain adventure: a single night in a hike-accessible hut. When I found the place many months ago, a tiny symbol on a digital map, the Stäfeli Hut seemed the perfect choice of hundreds
scattered across the Alps. Smack in the middle of a gently ascending six-hour loop trail, it promised to be easy enough for eight-year-old legs yet lengthy enough to entertain my 75-year-old ultrafit father. But when we arrive in Engelberg, the intel we receive at dinner is accompanied by a giggle. “Stäfeli Hut? Oh, it’s just up the road. You take a bus to the end of town, then walk 45 minutes on the trail.” Hmm. Not quite the expedition the internet led me to believe. Next morning, the much-anticipated day of our big (or maybe not so big) hut trip, the pit-patting on our Engelberg apartment window signals the first wet, grey day of our vacation. Enthusiasm still intact, we don rain gear and fill our packs with the now-familiar Alpine combo of meat, cheese, bread and chocolate, finding extra room for an overnight stuff sack: toothbrushes, sleeping bag liners, fresh skivvies. We set out early, only to find we’ve narrowly missed our bus. With the next departure an hour away and our server’s giggle still echoing, we choose to simply walk through town. Take a little tour on our way. Halfway through the idyllic village—past looming chalets, lowslung barns and the sprawling, ancient monastery—we make an 35
