A TOUGH DAY IN THE VAUD ALPS

August 16, 2026

VIA ALPINA DAY 52 – WEDNESDAY 12 AUGUST 2026
GSTEIG –> NEAR DEBORANCE LAKE

DISTANCE HIKED: 25.25 km
ELEVATION GAIN: 1,580 m

TOTAL DISTANCE HIKED: 1,319.13 km
TOTAL ELEVATION GAIN: 70,131 m

It rained through most of the night, which meant packing up a wet tent and putting on wet clothes from yesterday. Not the most inspiring way to start a hiking day.

When your day starts at a ski gondola in a valley surrounded by mountains, there is really only one way out—and that is up.

We assumed the gondola wasn’t running. There was nobody around and everything was quiet, so we set off on foot. For the first half hour we climbed alongside a rushing stream in the cool of the morning. It didn’t take long to break a sweat and start taking layers off.

As we climbed above the trees, the village below came into view, illuminated by the rising sun. It always surprises me how quickly we seem to gain height, even though it feels like such a slow grind when you’re doing it.

It was only then that we realised the cable car had started running. Damn! We could have saved ourselves a fair bit of climbing.

As we continued higher, the smell of a forest fire somewhere nearby became stronger. The acrid smoke caught in the back of my throat and made the climb feel even less pleasant.

As we neared the summit, I could hear dogs barking. The closer we got, the louder they became. Three very protective sheepdogs followed us along the other side of an electric fence, keeping a close eye on us as we passed. That was a nice welcome to the summit.

Beyond the summit was a huge dam, with the water level remarkably low. And there were cars—quite a few of them. Clearly, we weren’t as remote as we had imagined.

We left the summit and followed the trail along the edge of the lake. An almost empty lake always looks sad. There is something unsettling about seeing such a huge body of water reduced to a fraction of what it should be.

Past the lake, we stopped in the sunshine to dry the tent and have some lunch. The sound of cowbells tinkling across the meadows was mixed with the constant roar of water rushing down the mountain.

I still had wet socks and wet shoes from yesterday. Being Gore-Tex, they don’t dry nearly as quickly as my previous shoes. That would come back to haunt me later in the day, when the dampness began creating painful hot spots on my feet.

From here, the trail passed over what looked like white-water-eroded rocks. They weren’t particularly difficult to walk on, but they made it almost impossible to find any kind of rhythm. That seemed to set the tone for the rest of the day. The geology soon changed, and so did the difficulty.

We reached a horrible via ferrata-style descent into a canyon, requiring chains, steel stairs and steel spikes down vertical rock walls. Once that was over, the descent continued over loose scree, with some sections of very steep trail. For me, this was terrifying.

The thought of sliding on the loose rock was enough to make every step feel precarious. It was a long way down if either of us slipped. Hammer was finding it difficult too, but slowly and carefully we worked our way down until we eventually reached something resembling a reasonable trail.

The whole section felt genuinely dangerous—and, to be honest, possibly unnecessary. I couldn’t help wondering whether there was a better way down.

From that adrenaline-charged descent, we entered what can only be described as a forest apocalypse.

The entire side of the mountain we were walking through had been completely cleared of trees. It was heartbreaking to see, and the logic of it wasn’t immediately obvious from the shape of the landscape. After the beauty of the mountains, the scale of the destruction was confronting.