Hiking the Strada Alta

Every summer, on the last weekend in July, the park in front of our house hosts the Seenachtsfest, a three day event of carnival rides, music and beer tents that bumps and grinds into the wee hours and penetrates the densest of earplugs. This year, with Gary away in Nairobi again, I planned an escape down to sunny Ticino, in the southern, Italian part of Switzerland. I'd heard about the Strada Alta, a 45km hike from Airolo to Biasca along the old track used by muleteers on the Gotthard route, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to check it out.

My friend Rebecca offered to join me, sparing me the deafening silence of my own company, so, backpacks stuffed with essentials (spare knickers and socks, books and a pack of cards), we took the train down to Airolo on a glorious Saturday morning, smug and comfortable above the morning's already several kilometre long queue of cars waiting to go through the Gotthard tunnel.

Airolo's cafes were packed with hikers and cyclists, and we joined them for an espresso before setting out on the first leg of our journey. It was deceptively easy, that first 17 kilometres, most of it on small roads or trails, and like all Swiss trails, well marked and signposted. We passed through pretty villages and steep alpine meadows, stopping for iced tea at a friendly little osteria, filling our water bottles with icy mountain water from the ubiquitous and oh so welcome water troughs. Lunch was a Ticino platter, a feast of finely sliced local cured meats and cheeses, with delicious tomatoes and bread, washed down with a beer on the shady terrace of another hospitable osteria.

Our first overnight was in Osco, where dour service, shoebox rooms, a lacklustre meal, and a sleep-disturbing proximity to churchbells briefly dimmed our enthusiasm for our Italian Swiss neighbours. Back on the trail, however, our spirits lifted as we strode out on glorious paths, passing from sunny meadows into cool beech and pine forests. This was to be a shorter day, but, assiduously following all the signs, we took the high and hungry route, clambering up and down steep, rocky paths which bypassed the villages with osterias. We were rewarded, on this less-travelled route, by banks of wild raspberries and strawberries, their startling sunbursts of sweetness keeping us going until Anzonico, our second destination.

This was much better, the friendly little Osteria Anzonico offering another huge Ticinese platter to hungry hikers, this time lubricated by a couple of flasks of merlot. Our room was large and comfortable, opening onto a terrace where we lounged with our books, tired legs at rest, until it was time to eat again. A peaceful night, only a distant echo of cowbells lulling us to sleep.

And on to Biasca, more raspberry-lined wooded trails taking us into the gorges of Vallone, a challenging section of wild river crossings and vertiginous cliff trails. As we began the steep descent into the valley we bought a jar of delicious honey, redolent with the alpine summer smells of fresh cut grass and alpine flowers, a tasty memento of our journey.