Swiss Alps 100 Mile Trail Race: Success!

The Frenchman and the American at the finish 2022

 In 2021 I tried to run the gruelling and hilly Swiss Alps 100 mile trail race. This beast of a course has 10,000 meters of climbing. For you North Americans, that's 32,000 feet of climbing. That's like starting at sea level and climbing to the top of Mt Everest, while running. Ok, I walked some. But last year's race was hot. And did I mention it was hilly? The first 3 miles climb 4,000 feet and that's just a warm up. 

Something was off last year. While I usually enjoy at least moderate success in my races, something in my body wasn't right last year. Perhaps I had too much salt in me. We were in the middle of a move at the time so I wasn't sleeping particularly well, and I also hadn't trained well enough. The only thing I had relied on last year was my successful 350 mile run across Switzerland, which, it turns out, didn't offer enough hill training. 

But this year was different. Rather than focus on one singular trail experience to get me ready for this race, I built a whole racing and training season around it. I ran a half-marathon, a full marathon, a 50 mile trail ultra marathon, and many long back to back training runs. In the week before the big race I went to bed by 10pm each night and I focused on drinking water throughout the day to get fully hydrated. The payoff was huge. 

Not only did I finish, but I felt strong throughout the entire race. See my race report below for the full story. I am perhaps more proud of this finish than any other race I've done. 

------

Swiss Alps 100 Mile / 160km Trail Race Report. 

Nothing about this is normal. For starters, it’s 3am and I’m awake, but that is far from the weirdest part. I’m walking down a country road in a valley in the Swiss Alps in the dark, with the arm of a Frenchman draped over my shoulder. He doesn’t speak any English and my French is even worse. We are soldiers and the clock is our enemy. We are two people out of 66 who showed up to start a grueling 100-mile 48-hour trail race in the Swiss Alps. His name is David and I didn’t know him 12 hours ago. As dusk was setting on the first of two nights that we’d be running this quadruple marathon with an astounding 30,000 feet of climbing, I knew I would need my headlamp soon. I had it, of course. It was shoved deep down in my running pack along with the other safety items the race management requires everyone to carry. Emergency foil blanket. Raincoat. Whistle. Those kinds of things. But stopping to get out my headlamp meant breaking a rhythm and I was feeling the flow. Besides, we were running downhill along the side of a ridge, looking down on the famous Aletsch Glacier in the fading light. It’s the 23 mile long white snake of snow and ice that starts way up at the famous Jungfrau Mountain. I’ve run in many different situations in my 25 years of ultra running but being on a rocky trail while looking down at a glacier below is a unique perspective. 

Looking down on the famous Aletsch Glacier

As darkness neared I was waiting for an inevitable stumble that would indicate it was time to stop and dig my headlamp out of my small Ultimate Direction Race Vest. That’s when I saw them: two runners, illuminated ahead of me slowly making their way downhill. I caught up to them quickly and enjoyed the increased illumination thanks to their headlamps as I picked up scraps of light spilling around them. Though they immediately offered to let me go ahead there was no way I was giving up this great drafting position of pilfered light. Eventually they did stop to get some calories out and I finally pulled out my own headlamp. They introduced themselves: David and Maud, both from France. They said they had met the year before in the same race and had finished together. Maud was the only English speaker between the two but she explained that David had finished this race 9 times, so she was sticking with him. I mentioned that while I hadn’t completed this race yet, I did hold the Fastest Known Time for running the Trans Swiss Trail, a 560-km national trail route across all of Switzerland. That did it. Maud decided that, sandwiched between a soon-to-be ten time finisher of this race, and a proven solo ultra runner, she was in good hands. I was content to have company. I had already been running alone for 12 hours that day, so a little banter might be nice in the dark, even if that banter is in French, which I don’t speak. We bantered here and there. Maud would ask me something in English. I would answer. She would translate into French for David. He would respond. She would translate back into English for me. It was a good thing this race had a generous cutoff of 48 hours, we might need it if we want to finish a single conversation.

On the downhills it became clear that Maud had skills in this department. She flew down them. Her slight frame easily carried her down the lengthy points where we dropped elevation. Both David and I are larger frame runners and our bigger size made us less nimble than Maud when trying to float downhill. We were more of the stomper-plodder types. When it came to the uphills I was the stronger one in the group and they often let me take the lead there. At one point in the middle of the night, a voice called to us from the side of the trail. 

“Hi there. I’m a race photographer. I’ve been taking pictures all day and night of single runners but you guys make a nice trio - do you mind if I take a group picture?” 

We turned off our headlamps so we wouldn’t blind him and affect the exposure. Then we lined up and slung arms around each other and smiled for the camera, in the dark, on a ridge, somewhere in the Alps. As he took several pictures, checking the exposure each time, and without thinking I said, “We’re like the trois Muskateers.” Both David and Maud laughed hard at that and agreed. It was meant as a joke but perhaps to my team it meant more. 

A few times through the night I told them to go ahead, that I needed to readjust something or get some more food out. In all cases, Maud insisted on waiting for me. “We made a pact, Brian. We will wait for you.” This gave me some pause. I don’t recall having signed any documents. I don’t even remember talking about sticking together for the rest of the race. But I also didn’t see the harm in having a support group throughout to keep me going either. Since moving to Switzerland three years ago to teach at an international boarding school in the alps I had longed to find running partners as well as have someone to banter with in the occasional races I enter. Perhaps this was my chance? 

Though at times we walked when I might have run, I decided that the shared experience of doing this race with my new friends was more important than sticking to any goal pace, so long as I stayed ahead of the race cutoff times for each aid station along the way. 

And this is how I found myself walking down the center of a country road next to a stream in the dark in a valley between alps with a Frenchman’s arm draped over me. David was struggling with lack of sleep after 21 hours of running. He said, “Brian, go straight.” He then put his arm around me and we were soon walking stride for stride, with me silently guiding him. He soon closed his eyes and kept pace with me, using his contact with me to ensure he wouldn’t walk off the road or trip on a large rock. He only did it for a few minutes at a time but several times throughout the race this seemed to benefit him. 

I’ve done this same thing myself in the past, but without a running partner. Sometimes, when I’m quite tired and just want to rest but need to keep running I will mentally relax my body and flutter my eyes just enough to look ahead every few seconds to make sure nothing is coming. This only works on flat straight sections of road where there is no traffic. However, I have found these brief moments of relaxation capable of producing some rejuvenation. I’ve been doing this “sleep running” for more than 20 years. 

Loved the look of these tall stone walls holding back earth for this steep climb to Belalp

At the 80km aid station, now halfway done with the course, Maud quickly crawled into her family’s support car and promptly fell asleep. David and I refilled our water and got something to eat and were ready to head back out a few minutes later. We looked at each other in the dark, now starting to shiver from the morning cold and our sweat soaked clothes. We walked over to Maud’s car and asked her family if she was going to join us. They said we should head out. We felt bad leaving her behind but our own safety in the race was at risk, plus we needed to keep moving to stay warm. Reluctantly, we took off, now the Deux Musketeers. 

This is a small retention lake that we had to run 3 miles straight uphill to and around. It is always very hot here with no water so everyone struggles in this part early on near Belalp 

 The rest of the race went as planned. I continued to hit my aid stations on goal pace, always about 60-90 minutes ahead of the cut off times. David was always with or just behind me. Things were looking up. But then we had one final big uphill on the course and time was not on our side. Twice, random runners ahead of me stopped me on their way back from this uphill, headed back to return to an aid station that we would visit twice. Each of these two runners cautioned me about the tricky section at the top of this climb. A local had told me earlier in the day that doing this big climb takes most people four hours. The pieces started falling into place. It was 7pm. Four hours later would be 11pm. It would certainly be dark on this final summit. If the trail was obscure, tricky, and dark, that could take even longer than predicted. 

Distance runners sometimes refer to “brain fog”. After so many hours of running, sometimes runners start to make simple mistakes. These mistakes can cost you in the long run. For example, at the previous aid station I had set down my lightweight foldable hiking poles. Nearly everyone in the race had them. And because I like to use the best equipment, everyone had the same poles as me. Two kilometers after leaving the aid station, I remembered that I had forgotten them. A passing runner going the other way insisted that I turn around and run the 2km back uphill to the aid station to get them. I simply didn’t have it in me. “I just can’t do that right now,” I replied. “You’re going to want them for the next section - it’s really hard,” he responded. I decided not to turn around but did ask two other runners to tell the staff that I would pick them up when I came back on the return in a few hours. 

 The next aid station cutoff is at midnight and we might not even get down until 11pm at the earliest. Things looked like they could turn grim. I told David that I planned to make only a short stop at the aid station and that I hoped to summit before true darkness fell, given the tricky route finding we had been told about. He agreed and said he would go with me, even though he had just come into the aid station moments before. We headed out and established a brisk walking pace for the coming 1100 meter climb. My weather app told me that sunset was predicted for 8:40pm. By climbing higher with each stop I’d hoped that we could maximize the last rays of sunlight. Because of the angle of the surrounding mountains, the sun actually set 15 minutes early for us. I yelled to the horizon, “We still have 15 minutes left - you pop back up!” But neither the sun nor David understood me. I guess the sun doesn’t speak English either. 

At that point we were only a few dozen meters from the first of two summits on this section. We reached an iron cross at the top of the first summit a few minutes after the sun had set, but while there was still decent light. David insisted we take a picture. I was singly focused on getting off of this mountain in one piece but I obliged him in a quick picture of the two of us.

Our quick pic at the first summit in fading light.

Turning around, we scanned the horizon for the second summit we were to climb. There was only one that it could be and yet, it couldn’t be that one. In the fading dark, that other one looked like a completely separate mountain. Would it take an hour to climb that, I wondered? The fading light quickly changed our perspective and I suddenly couldn’t gauge distance or elevation. “There’s no way they want us to go up that, right?” I asked David, knowing he didn’t likely understand me. But he did understand, because when faced with the coming darkness of your second night in the wilderness, language doesn’t matter. In those moments, everyone speaks the same language. “Is it possible?” David asked, speaking some of his first words of English I’d heard in two days. 

View of the second summit, and the illusion that kept us from seeing how close it really was.

We gave in to the inevitable darkness, because while David was able to speak a few words of English, I was still sure that the sun wouldn’t. We took out our headlamps and started up this final climb. Luckily, we had overestimated the time it would take to reach this second summit and we were on top of it within a few minutes of swift powerhiking. At the top, we encountered a herd of shaggy black and white mountain sheep. Though I was still concerned with getting down off this summit, something about seeing sheep lazily munching grass in the darkness on this summit gave me comfort. Yes, my own existence was harried and stressful in this moment, but seeing other beings continuing to eat their dinner, careless of the light or lack thereof, helped me feel a glimpse of peace in that moment. We tagged the second summit and found the trail down. I was suddenly overcome with fright that I would somehow miss the midnight cutoff at the aid station where I left my poles earlier. Not only would I be kicked off the course but my poles might be lost as well. I told David that I wanted to run down the mountain quickly and he offered to let me go. I told him I was sure I’d see him again. 

The summits took 2 hours to reach going uphill and only 30 minutes to descend back to the bottom. Then it was one more hour of road to get back to the aid station. I made it back to the aid station at 10:45pm, well ahead of the midnight cutoff. I asked for my poles and the crew said, “What poles?” Apparently, there had been a shift change since I was there last and whoever got the original message to leave my poles there didn’t pass the message on to the new crew working the aid station. There was a second set of poles left there but they were the wrong size. I took them anyway, knowing that David and I were in last place in the race so there was little chance that someone else would come get them. I tried using them for the remainder of the race but ended up just storing them in my pack since they were too short for my stature. 

After my speedy descent from the last summit I expected to leave the midnight aid station well

before David arrived behind me. However, true to form, he came trotting into the aid station just as I was heading out. “Wait, Brian. I go with you. It’s better.”  We slowly jogged down the mountain, this time, finally on a wide gravel road, signaling our return toward civilization. We discussed our plans for the finish. If we ran all the way in from here, we would finish around 4am. My wife and daughter had been meeting me throughout the race at aid stations and were sleeping now at the hotel at the finish. I didn’t want them to have to get up in the middle of the night to see me finish. I also didn’t feel any urgency to get the race done, though I know that in itself is an oxymoron. David had heard from his family who was also at the finish. They were eager to get back on the road and start driving back home to Paris. He decided he would pull away and head in. I encouraged it and enjoyed the solitude as I took my time savoring the final 8 miles. Just then, a beep sounded from my watch. I looked down. It read, “92 miles.” For the past two days I’d been hearing it beep and register the hard-earned mileage but tried not to keep track of what the total was as that was often too depressing. “38 miles done, great! That means I just have 62 miles to go..” But something about seeing the numbers “9-2” on my watch stopped me in my tracks, so to speak. That just seemed like such a huge number - even bigger than 100 for some reason. So I savored those last 8. When I came into the final aid station, I laid down in the grass and looked at the route. I studied my pacing chart and everything I had accomplished in the past 43 hours. I was enjoying the solitude, but I wasn’t truly alone. After a few minutes resting in the grass, and when my body started to shiver again, an aid station volunteer came over to me and asked, “Excuse me, are you number 9? The race management is watching you on GPS and is asking why you haven’t moved in awhile.” So much for solitude. They assured me that there was no rush but they just wanted to make sure I was ok. 

Soon after David pulled ahead and disappeared into the darkness with his bold headlamp, I noticed that mine wasn’t nearly as bright. Then it seemed even dimmer. Though I had changed headlamps for the second night, this new one had batteries that gave out faster than expected. Soon it was too faint to make out the rocky trail and ensure I wouldn’t trip. Is this really where it all falls apart? In dead last place in a 100 mile race, only 7 miles from the finish and I break an ankle because of a dead flashlight? Where was the Eagle Scout who pledged “Be Prepared”? Then I remembered that I had my iPhone with its own flashlight. I pulled that out and holding it at waist level I was able to illuminate the path well enough to see, though the diffused nature of the iPhone light was far inferior to my own typical headlamp. However, for the five miles it took for the first light of dawn to emerge, the iPhone sufficed. I enjoyed its dim light as I sauntered along a brook, both silent and gurgling as it glided past seaweedy banks or tumbled over boulders who’d found their way into its watery world.  I loved this. Savouring the final miles of a long race when others might be trying to beat the clock. I wanted others to beat me. I looked forward to last place. This was a talented field. Though I was still 3 hours ahead of the race cutoff, David and I were nearly two hours behind the next competitor and nearly a full day behind the winner. Just finishing this thing was thrilling enough for me and I wanted to enjoy it all. Across a wooden bridge and through a neighborhood of chalets I, too, was soon caught up in the excitement of finishing and I began ramping up my pace for a speedy arrival at 6:15am, as planned, where my family would be cheering on my finish. The warm glow of morning light seemed to enhance the excitement.

I rounded the backside of the event hotel grounds: “99.2”, read my watch. Past the sports field: “99:4”. Two short uphills towards the finish: “99.7”. I had already decided that if my watch hadn’t clicked over to 100 at the finish line that I would jog around the hotel after the race until it did. Crossing the finish line, I looked down and saw it clicked over just as my foot crossed the threshold: “100.00”. Never before had I used a GPS watch with such satisfaction and precision. How remarkable that all of those extra trips to the bathroom, second trips to the aid station tables, and wrong turns over 45 hours could have led to this perfect moment of synchronicity? 

It was a great experience. My body performed superbly. I had fun. I enjoyed the sights. And I credit it to good training through the summer, consistent energy intake each hour during the run, and maintaining my salt balance with Hammer Endurolites on a consistent basis. Will I do this race again? I don’t know - it was so completely satisfying to finish. There are other summer races I would like to be able to focus on, like the Backyard Ultra. But then again, wouldn’t it be fun to try and cut 10 hours off of my finish time? These are the thoughts that haunt ultra runners in the days that follow a race. Whatever I decide, I hope that cheerful fellow runners like Maud and David are always at my side to bring some light into my darkness. 

Postscript: after returning home and uploading all of the race data from my watch to my Strava social media  account, I was shocked to see that Strava didn’t think that my rollover to 100 miles was quite sufficient. It automatically rounded down my total distance back to 99.99 miles. I guess I still have some work to do - isn’t that the beauty of ever seeking improvement?  

New FKT: Trans Swiss Trail! 10d 11h 3m

 It's been a minute. Since my last post here, I moved from the US to the Middle East, taught there for two years in Kuwait, ran a 50k ultra there through a scenic complex of oil refineries in the desert and then moved to Switzerland where I now live and teach at an international boarding school in the Swiss Alps. Talk about a change of scenery!

So there's that. 

Given our location, my immediate access to trails has enabled me to do more running here than ever before. And, no surprise, it's incredibly scenic as well! 

I've recently posted a 28-minute video about my record setting run across Switzerland: https://youtu.be/H4XCoyisnwc

Setting the Goal

One of the perks of teaching is summer vacation and this year I decided to put my running to the test and see if I could run across all of Switzerland on trails. There are many routes to choose from but I selected the Trans Swiss Trail, a 560km route that frequents towns along the way and avoids the most technical alpine passes. I knew I would be self-supported, running with a small backpack, but to avoid extra weight, I decided to plan my trip to stay in a hotel each night. Swiss tourist season is no joke and I needed to make reservations ahead of time or I would not have been able to get a room when I arrived, tired, hungry, and ready for a shower at the end of a long day. 

Setting an Itinerary and Making Reservations

I've never done a journey run like this before where I had to make a specific destination each day. If I got behind schedule the entire trip would be compromised. Summer weather in the Alps can also be unpredictable and I had to contend with changing conditions which could have further delayed me. 

I could always run pretty far on any given day but assuming I could still do so on day 9, for example, meant making a fairly conservative schedule that would accommodate for issues along the way. Towns and lodgings along the trail also dictate the distance options each day. So while I could choose a short day, a standard day, or a long day, there weren't often many levels in between. 

After looking at the route and available services, I finally settled on aiming for about 50km per day. This would be done while wearing a 17-pound pack and having to go up and over whatever elevation was on that given day's agenda. Individual climbs ranged from 300 meters to 1000 or more. Daily ascent was between 1,000-2,000 meters. 

Deciding to Run in a Skirt

For a bit of fun, I decided to honor local culture and run in a traditional Swiss long sleeve cotton shirt with embroidery on the neck, shoulders, and cuffs. I would also run in a traditional felt hat. When deciding on what to wear on my legs, I initially considered running in lederhosen, which some people actually do, but I decided the leather would be far too hot. Instead, my wife suggested I run in a skirt. That took me by surprise at first but when you think about it, there's no reason a skirt has to be assigned to females only. In fact, historically, men have been wearing skirts just as long as, if not longer, than women have for all time. After much research I learned that I'm not alone in the skirt idea. Men are showing up to races in skirts more frequently now. Clothing companies are catering to this by marketing a product which they call a running kilt. Guess what? The companies that make those are all sold out! So I asked myself, why fight the system? I went to one of the most popular running skirt companies, Lululemon, and ordered one of their best sellers. I had never had to find my skirt size before and hoped for the best. Luckily, it fit well and I was set. 

Route

Surprisingly, the Trans Swiss Trail does not actually transit all of Switzerland. It starts in Mendrisio and ends in Porrentruy, both of which are close to, but neither of which actually touch the border. So while I did plan to set the fastest known time (FKT) for the actual trail route, I also wanted to officially begin and end at the border. At the start, I took a train to Chiasso, which is on the border with Italy and about 12km from the start of the trail in Mendrisio. At the end, I planned to finish in Boncourt, which is on the French border and about 14km from the other end of the trail in Porruntruy. So in effect, I would set two records, one FKT for the Trans Swiss Trail and another for a border to border run using the Trans Swiss Trail. 

Stats

Full border to border:

Started in Chiasso at border at 7:31am on Tues July 13, 2021

Finished at Boncourt at border at 8:15am, Sat, July 24, 2021

Total time for border to border run: 11 days, 44 min.

——

Trail Only: 

Left Mendrisio Train Station and saw first trail marker on Tuesday, July 13, 2021 at 8:53am.

Arrived at Porrentruy Train Station and saw last trail marker on Friday, July 23, 2021 at 7:56pm. 

Total time: FKT Trans Swiss Trail: 10 days, 11 hours, 3 minutes. 

Notes: 

Daily mileage: (from Stava)

7/13:  24

7/14: 23.39

7/15: 27.65

7/16: 32

7/17: 34.69

7/18: 28.52

7/19: 33.65

7/20: 35.32

7/21: 28

7/22: 29.79

7/23: 41.59

7/24: 9.13

——

Total mileage: 348 mi / 560km 

elevation: in feet (from Strava)

7/13: 5951

7/14: 4698

7/15: 3750

7/16: 7415

7/17: 3586

7/18: 3888

7/19: 7969

7/20: 3970

7/21: 1818

7/22: 4311

7/23: 5089

7/24: 476

——

52,921 ft / 16,130 meters climbing

Pack was 16 pounds / 7 kg.

Trip Report

Day 0: Mon, July 12: I took the train from Brünig to Chiasso. Nit in Bahnhof Haus. Ate at good pizza place in town. I already feel like I don’t speak enough Italian. 

Day 1: Tuesday, July 13, 2021: 24 mi. Chiasso to Paradiso. 5951 feet of climbing. Ate at hotel dining room. First appearance in my skirt and shirt. Croissants, jam, ham, cheese, juice and tea. Pretty standard fare. Started from Chiasso border at 7:31am. I was looking for the actual place where the border starts and there was a small pedestrian garden gate that has a standard key lock on it. I looked at it, filmed it and made a commentary that this must be how Switzerland locks the door when they want to shut the country. I had a good laugh about it until a Swiss border immigration officer who had been watching me from his car line waved me over. He wanted to make 2 opposing things clear in his mannerisms: 1) he wanted to talk to me, 2) he didn’t particularly want to have to talk to me. He asked why I was filming the gate. As he asked in Italian I had no idea what he was asking. But I probably could have guessed. I asked if he spoke English or German, no. He finally said, in English, why were you filming the gate? I then tried to explain that I was starting a run across all of Switzerland (in a skirt nonetheless) and I wanted to make sure i was starting at the actual border. He looked at me, further disgust in his eyes, and said, "filming not possible." Though he never said we were finished, I got the sense that he was so I said, ok, thanks, sorry, and left. 

Ran to Mendrisio, some sections with no shoulder or sidewalk. 

9.5km to Mendrisio. Trailhead only has normal trail sign, no indication of terminus. 

Sidewalk jaunt past mall and a new outdoor store with limited gear. Then headed uphill on first trail of the trip. Big climb on nice trail. Small church at top of mountain, great for a rest. Benches, a table, an unlocked warming room with a fireplace, but no known water. There is a manhole cover which looks like a water tap but didn’t open. Nice downhill to Brusino Funivia. No indication of the ferry, but the schedule is posted and Maps confirmed. It arrives at 12:44 and 1:40 to take you to Morcote. Half fare card one way is 3 chf. Nice restaurants and gelato there, but Huge climb leaving town on the staircase of death. Many many steps. Carina is a nice hilltop settlement with a church and a funicular. 

Another small climb to San Salvatore, then a gentle downhill to Paradiso. The sign was pointed wrong way at Funicular going into Paradiso. Should have turned right but went straight as sign suggested. Will follow my map from now on. Hotel Dishama in Paradiso is ok, central location. Migros across the street. Dinner at Zoster is Calprino, sat outside in heavy rainstorm at first. Very good food and friendly staff, worth the walk. 

Tomorrow: flat along water, then slow 700m climb, then level, then 300m climb, then downhill and flat into Bellinzona.

Day 2: Wed, July 14: Paradiso to Bellinzona, 23.32 mi. 4698 feet of climbing. woke up in hotel dischama, nice breakfast bar. Some awkward looks from men at dining room. ran toward lake, hugged shore, then route went inland and past the fancy shops. Nice harbour. Climb wasn’t so bad. Miles came quickly. Arrived in Bellinzona around 4:30. Felt fresh. Hotel Croce Federal had given my room away. They put me up in Hotele Unione. Showered then went to walk nearby castle. Went to tower. 3 kids having a food fight in the top of tower. Took free bus to Scugnazzis pizza- finally got to eat there. Very good pizza and super nice staff. Good nights sleep, but finding the nights are too short. If I get in at 7 or 8pm, it’s a rush to wash out my running outfit, wring it dry to give it a headstart for the next morning's drying goal, then shower, go to dinner, check in with the family and post about the day. There’s no time to relax. 

Day 3: Thurs July 15: Bellinzona to Anzonico via Biasca and the Strada Alta trail. 27.65mi. 3750 ft of climbing. Long day. Lots of up. Long run along river to Biasco, then a long steep climb up to Strada Alta. Did the 6 day downhill hike that my school group did this spring, but in reverse which meant mostly uphill this time. Saw each campsite as I passed it. Streams were raging from rains. Someone built a simple catwalk overnight to get over the stream. Arrived at Anzonico around 6:30. Pasta and potato dinner. Cold room with no heat source. Bad WiFi connection. Kind family owners and homemade jam at breakfast was very good. Box was waiting for me in the room. I’m not going through the Hammer pills or powder nearly as fast as I thought I would. Partly that is due to me eating ice cream and snacks from passing markets. I also need to focus on refilling my bottle with powder more frequently. 

Day 4: Fri July 16: Anzonico to Airolo, over Gottard Pass and down to Andermatt. 32 mi and 7415 ft of climbing. biggest mileage day yet. Highest point on trail. Ran past old grist mill house for sale. Ran under funicular. It was fun seeing all of the campsites from the 6 day hike. Finished Strada alta and arrived at Airolo at 2pm. Was keeping and eye on weather to go up Gottard pass. At one point it said rain and high of 50f. Host last night told me the pass was closed yesterday. Nervous going up. 1000m climb, left Airolo at 3pm. Signs said it is a 5 hr hike to get to top. I was there by 5:30, so I halved the hiking estimate, even though I was hiking most of it. Happy with that, but on the way up it started to rain, so I took off cotton shirt and put on Hammer shirt, sleeves, raincoat, mittens, and ear muffs. Much better. Felt hat was good in rain too. 1/3 of way up I saw a motorcycle group coming down the mountain on the road. I was on the hiking trail next to the road. The trail was on top of the tall stone wall at a hairpin turn in the road. A biker, male, 28-35 y.o. Wobbled just before the turn. He tried to correct but couldn’t and his speed kept him going towards the wall. He locked up his brakes and the bike started to flip forward and put him headfirst into the wall at about 30mph. I was the first to get to him and he wasn’t moving. Had a helmet on and riding suit. After about 30 seconds he started groaning in a gutterel way. His friends took off his helmet. I helped get his bike off the road. It was leaking gasoline. The whole time I was prepared to have this be my afternoon. Then 2 cars stopped, it was the Swiss military asking if we wanted help. Yes! They put on their orange vests and started directing traffic. Then a minivan stopped and a woman got out of the passenger seat with a hip pack saying I’m a paramedic, do you want help? Yes! We had already called for an ambulance. At that point I could see they had the situation under control so I left and now had to jump back into the world of can I make it up this mountain? Emotionally draining. At top, even though it wasn’t raining, it was very foggy and cold. I ate a piece of nut cake from a snack wagon near the lodge, then quickly dove down the other side to warm up. The clerk at the snack wagon told me “funth “ when he said the price of cake. Yay! Back in German speaking land, and Gottard Pass is the geographical barrier to that language transition. At 7pm I was coming into town and 2 couples older were cheering for me on the street. They wanted to know where I’d come from and where I was going and they cheered for everything I said. It completely changed my status that night. Enthusiasm! They asked what my competition was and I said “Meine Frau!”

And they roared, and then I followed that with,” und mein Kinder!” And they roared again . They asked where I was going next and I said Lake Lucerne, and they got more serious and asked if I knew about the flooding there. I didn’t and they said that all of the rain had caused the lake to spill over its banks and the path might be closed or dangerous. Then they looked to me for a reaction and I said, “Kein problem!” And pointed to my shoes and said, “GoreTex!” And they roared again . Then I said I was also going to Stans and Sarnen and they said Stans! That’s where we live!!! I thanked them and never saw them again.  

Arrived at hotel, confirmed house sale with Lydia and went to dinner having amazing thin crust pizza with ham, onions, pears and white sauce. Ate in hotel dining room. Prompt service and excellent food. Sat next to cash register, light wood all throughout. Only a few other bikers at breakfast. 

Looking forward to 2 days of downhill running. 

Day 5: Sat July 17: Andermatt to Seelisburg on Lake Lucerne. 34.6 mi. 3586 ft of climbing. 

Andermatt is a mountain town with a cute small downtown, a small Flagstaff but quite touristy.  Leaving town headed west-sw is a dive bomb downhill. There’s a spectacular trail past a rushing massive waterfall. There’s a cave like tunnel you can walk through to get to another vantage point of the waterfall. Lots of picture opportunities, but also a huge downhill. Mostly a painless uphill into Seelisburg. The town is high up on a mtn and so is Andermatt but you have to go down into a valley between the two. The hotel was nice but no WiFi in rooms. I had dinner in the dining room since the town really wasn’t and there weren’t other choices for meals. They were actually full but offered to get me in late just before closing which was good for me since I still needed to shower. There was a live accordion player from Zug-Luzern playing in the dining room. He had an electric accordion. Pretty fancy. He joined me for dessert and we chatted lightly in German. He plays there 2-3 nights a week.  The lobby was full of loud tourists who are too social to be with their spouses in their rooms late at night. I went outside into the cold to call my family and check in. Went to my room where I noticed for the first time that my room faces a small courtyard and the dining room. From my bed I had wifi! Arg! Could have worked there! 

Day 6: Sun July 18: Seelisburg on Lake Lucerne to Giswel south of Sarnen. 28.52 mi. 3,888 ft climbing. 

Downhill leaving Seelisburg. Got to lake shore after following a stream which turned into a massive triple waterfall. Dramatic bridge over it in a few places. Hugged lake shore. Found a large white Swan feather which I put in my hat and promptly lost due to its heavy weight and me not knowing yet how to shove feathers in the band loops of my hat. Later I found a crow feather and a very nice small hawk feather that look good together. Those two made it the rest of the trip. 

At one point going through a small town, the underpass was flooded and down to one lane. The sidewalk was dry but each time a car went by a tidal wave of water got thrown across the path. I timed it out to run between cars and just made it. The woman in front of me who told me there was no point in waiting wasn’t so lucky. Made my way around the lake and through Stans. Surprisingly, there’s a decent climb once you leave Lake Luzern and end up at Sarnen. Why does it always need to do that? The path south of Sarnen was also flooded and blocked so I ran on the edge of the RR tracks, along with at least 8 other people who were walking. Pretty tired by the time I reached Giswel. I forgot to ask about my package there until the next morning which created a bit of a problem. No other dining choices nearby so I ate in the dining room. Sat outside on patio. Had a small salad and fish, it’s what they’ve known for. Big big ice cream for dessert and two Sure Most brews. 

Short night. 

Day 7: Mon July 19: Giswel to Eggiwil. 33.65mi. 7969 feet of climbing. At breakfast I asked for my box. The host didn’t know what I was talking about. When I described a small box she held up the trash can. She didn’t speak anything that I did. Today was funny. I thought there weren’t any mountains in central Switzerland. Boy was I wrong! I was so wrong. I’ve even been on these mountains before. I’ve driven past them. Why didn’t I think they existed? It’s because when I drive west to Bern, it’s always flat in the car after leaving Interlaken. What I forgot is that the highway is in the valley! The Trans Swiss Trail goes up over and down every possible slope. So huge climb today. Did not expect that. Arrived at Eggiwil and walked to my pinned location for the night. That was a farmhouse. I realized that my place was a B and B so I was looking for a small house. I Google mapped the location and it said the hotel was 4.5km away, up a steep hill! I was so done. Instead of calling them, I flagged down a neighbor who was pulling out of their driveway. I tried explaining that I needed to get to a hotel up the hill. He said something in German which I didn’t understand. But soon enough I was in his car going at breakneck speed up there. He passed the BnB and went into the driveway of the next house. I knew we weren’t at the right place and I said I would just walk down the road to the BnB. Then a man walked out of the house and didn’t seem surprised to see us. My driver smiled, got into his car and drove off. The house guy got on his phone and started calling the BnB. I’m like, it’s not a problem. I’m going to walk there now. He didn’t say anything. Finally he gave me the phone. The woman did speak English and said that her BnB was full. I said that I had a reservation. She said she had a second hotel down the hill in Eggiwil, where I was supposed to be and where I had just been. I told her I looked there but didn’t see it and mapped it which told me to go up the hill. then I wondered how I would get back down there and the neighbor who had come outside laughed and said he would drive me down. As I got into his car he told me that the man that brought me up the hill was his brother. Oh! That explains it. How funny that both brothers live next to each location of this hotel with two spots. And I picked the one guy with a brother on the mtn! Back down the hill he drove me right to the place. To my own credit, the place didn’t have a name on it and was a huge hotel and separate dining room, with a mini golf course between them. It was also called something else. Ate a late dinner at the hotel. 

Day 8: Tues, July 20: Eggiwil to Bern. 35.32mi. 3,970 feet of climbing. Morning climb out of Eggiwil. Miles rolled by nicely today. Was excited to get to Bern. Big city. Old city. Must have been a mostly downhill run because the miles came easy today and not too hot. Had hotel right on the old bridge. Shared bathrooms and creaky floors but clean. Ate at an Indian place that wasn’t Indian. Ordered spicy shrimp kabobs. Tasty but not to die for. Sat on patio on left end of tables, near arch and kitchen door. After I got a huge gelato at a busy shop just as it was closing. Had to wait behind a family of 8, service was really slow. Gelato was amazing. Loved seeing the sights in Bern. 

Day 9: Wed, July 21: Bern to Murten. 28 mi. 1818 feet of climbing. Leaving Bern was an uphill. Miles came easy again but it was a warm day. I dunked my head under a fountain, which seemed to entertain the farmer couple sitting on their porch watching me. Drank gobs. Followed an endless river between cantons of Fryeburg and Bern for much of the day. Bigger climb near the end of the day as I rose to meet Murten. Was pretty cooked when I got there but the less climbing had me arrive in town by 5:30/6pm. Checked in. Hotel is pricey ($130? CHF) but with that, they give you a gold coin you can use at checkin to get a free drink from the vending machine in the lobby. Got an iced tea bottle and went to my room. A quick shower, a look on Trip Advisor found a Turkish restaurant with good reviews. I tried calling to reserve a table and they weren’t answering. So I just went. It was very full and there were others waiting for a table but I just caught someone’s attention and said, “Nur Eins, Bitte.” The man smiled and seated me. Then they moved me when I was mid meal. Then he moved an older couple, mother-son to another table. And a Bernese Oberland dog got up to leave and bonked their table and almost crop dusted their food with his hairy tail. 

Day 10: Thursday, July 22. 29.79 mi / 4311 feet. Murten to St. Imier spent last nit at Mertenoff Krone Hotel in Murten. Nice place. Very nice buffet. Hotel is next to / part of? Castle next door. When I asked about the bike path around the lake, clerk said, “we’ll I ride my bike so I know that it is open. You have to go around the barricades but it isn’t under water. Boy was she wrong there. In the morning, as I left Murten, I enjoyed the mid-evil old town. Cobblestone streets and old quaint shops and archways. Lots of people out having brunch on restaurant patios. 

Unlike what the hotel clerk said there would be, the lake had completely spilled its banks. The local authorities had gone out and put barricades across the trail and stretched flagging tape at junctions. The clerk did say I’d see that but said I only had to walk around it because the path was fine and open all the way around. I even had her show me on a big map and she traced her finger all the way around the lake where I needed to go that day, and she spoke good English, she just gave wrong info. I wiggled past the first barrier and found over the ankle-deep water all across the path. I tip-toed to the next junction at a cafe where there were people sitting out and the barricades became more serious. Now they were metal scissor jack fences that were chainlocked to the fence on either side. They REALLY didn’t want people going that way. In disgust, I turned inland and ran the main road paralleling the lake shore. After a 1/4 mi I thought it might be safe to return to the path. The car traffic was heavy anyway and I would have rather been running along the water. When I got back to the path, it was again locked up tight and fully underwater everywhere. No dice. 

So back to the main road. As I rounded the lake, there was a farm access road that didn’t appear on the map and I ran that while I could. After Lake Murten, the trail goes up and over the only big hill between Murten and Lake Neuchtel. Bigger climb than I expected and it was getting hot again in the afternoon sun. Down down down the hill to the ferry dock where the trail crosses lake Neufchâtel. I knew the ferry wasn’t running due to high water. The hotel had told me that and I had checked the website as well. The dock was underwater and they also didn’t want to disrupt the fragile shoreline by making waves from a big boat. Instead, near the ferry dock, I found a set of grandparents at a city park with their grandson and dog. They were pushing him on a swing. Pretty typical, except that because of the flooded lake, the playground was also underwater and the swing set and the grandparents, grandson, and dog. The grandfather would pull his grandson way back on the swing and then let it fly forward. The kid would keep his legs tucked up so he didn’t crash into the water on the first swing, then on the second swing up he would drag his feet in the water as he went through. The dog was standing in front of them all and when the kid dragged his feet, it made a huge splash and the dog would try to catch the water in his mouth. Sometimes the kid would also drag his feet as we went backwards through the water and this had the effect of splashing his grandparents with water, which they didn’t especially want. 

Now that I had officially arrived at the trail terminus of the lake, it was time to find another way around. There was a bus in about 30 min that would take me to a train which arrived at Neufchâtel, but first I was very hot and needed a drink. I tried asking at a kiosk for a slushy, but they didn’t understand. He did give me a cup of crushed ice and a Rivella, which hit the spot. 

When I arrived at Neufchâtel, I ran down the hill to the boat landing on the west side of the lake so I would be sure not to miss any of the trail. Nice waterfront. There was a restaurant inside a wading pool over the water- not sure I’d want to share bath water with an indeterminate number of fellow patrons. 

Steep climb out of Neufchâtel and very hot. Found a fountain partway up the hill and drank a quart and loaded up as well. Fairly long afternoon to St Imier through woods and long rural roads. 

Arrived at St Imier at Hotel le Fontaine at 7pm. Walked around town. Most everything was closed. I noticed at 11pm that breakfast was at 8 and checkout didn’t start until 9! I hadn’t paid for my room yet so I panicked about such a late start to my biggest day, which was also sure to be hot. I heard voices downstairs and ran down the 2 flights to find the owner locking up and leaving for the night. He only speaks French so I typed out that I needed to pay now so I could leave early. He went inside, showed me the cost was 97 chf and I gave him a 100. He started to walk down the hall to get my 3 franc change and I stopped him saying, “stim so!” (meaning, keep the change) He stopped, and suddenly he now understood some German. He smiled big at me - the first time, and gave me a big thanks. So he got a tip, and he didn’t have to serve me breakfast which I had already paid for. 

Day 11: St Imier to Porrentruy: 41.59 mi. 5089 feet of climbing.  Early wake up at sad town of St Imier. The best pizza joint in town was on summer holiday. Looked like many stores were closed/ out of business, or waiting for their turn to die. Lots of smokers. Bed was too soft. The emergency exit for the hotel was my room. There was a sign of a staircase on my hotel door. Then there was also a key hanging outside on the hall, presumably to my room. There was a fire escape out of my bathroom window. I left at 6:30am to get an early start for the long day. Hottest day of the trip. Baking in the sun on open fields, but nice in woods. A few big climbs, including when leaving town, which I knew about. At the ridge line, I passed a fleet of wind turbines and a scout troop camping. The leader blew a trumpet looong to wake them up around 8am. At mile 30ish I caught a root with my shoe and went completely down, also ripping my shoe wide open along the side. Ran with that for the last 30 miles. Arrived at Porrentruy at 8pm. The plan was to check into hotel, drop weight out of pack and then run last 14km to border but there wasn’t time to do that. So I ran to train station and end of official trail and then back to room to shower and had best dinner of trip. The hotel has best reviews in town for food. Nice rooms too. The host knew of the Ecole. 

Day 12: sat July 24. 9.13 mi / 476 feet of climbing. Porrentruy to Boncourt and Swiss/French border. Ran 8.9 miles to Boncourt and CH/FR border, arriving at 8:15am. Raining. Missed return train to Porrentruy by 5 min. Took the 9:22am train. Hotel will serve me breakfast at 9:30. I’ll be a few min late. 

Then will shower, pack up and take train home. 

Thoughts on Finishing

It was a great trip. I loved the lodging each night, the fine dinner, and light breakfast each morning. There are often grocery stores during the day you can stop at to get a midday snack. The trail is marked very well and easy to follow, though using the SchweizMobil app was very helpful when I came to several junctions with more than one choice. Sometimes, the trail marker was hidden behind branches. Other times, it was pointed in the wrong direction. 

GEAR

Shoes

I started with Mizuno GoreTex Wave Inspire shoes. They were great as much of the trail was wet, muddy, or damp with dew in the morning. On day 8 I switched shoes to a pair of Hoka Carbon X road running shoes which was a horrible choice. They did not have Gore-Tex. They did not have any traction, and the uppers are so thin that when I tripped on day 9, the force of my momentum falling forward caused the left shoe to completely rip open along the entire side. I was slipping much in the mud as well. Poor choice of shoe for that terrain. 

Pack

I wore an Osprey Manta 28 pack, which I have used many times before. The pocket design of the pack is excellent but the frame is not good for running. I had sores on my back from the metal frame rubbing against me for 10 hours per day. 

Poles

I used Black Diamond Carbon Z trekking poles which were fantastic for the uphills. I sometimes tried them on the downhills but if it was very steep it was better to just use my hands. They are extremely light and highly recommended. 

Hammer Products

I have relied on Hammer Nutrition products for all of my recent runs. I particularly like Hammer Perpetuem (drinking powder), Endurolytes (electrolyte and sodium balancing tablets), Race Caps (chemical balancers), and Anti Fatigue Caps (more chemical balancers). I've also had a lot of luck with Hammer Recoverite (drinking powder for the end of the day). In recent years I have tried Hammer gels and find that they are ok for sustaining energy but that they don't particularly satisfy my eating cravings. They are very convenient though and when I eat one I usually enjoy the experience. They are perhaps best suited for a shot of energy when there are no other options and you need to travel light.