A three-day ski tour in the middle of the well-developed Swiss Alps without crossing a single other trail - total solitude. Far away from fashionable ski tours, comfortable huts and crowded summits, there are still some quiet, almost untouched spots in the Swiss mountains. Packed with a tent and food, the search for solitude leads to the Lower Engadine.
At last! After the volatility of the last few days, the weather forecasts are predicting the long-awaited improvement. Even the predicted strong north-easterly wind can't worry us. I meet Salome and Jürg that same evening in Davos to pack the equipment. We are almost knee-deep in ropes, tents, sleeping bags, food supplies and other equipment. One look is all it takes and we all know: less will have to be more this time too. The already spartanly small two-man tent will have to accommodate all three of us, and all but one spoon per person will have to be discarded, as we will have to carry all the equipment with us and set up camp in a different place each day.
Jürg has done a great job with the preparations. Three unique peaks are on the program in the planned four days. Piz Laschadurellas, Piz Plavna Dadaint and Piz Foraz are the names of these beautiful but little-traveled mountains on the northern border of the Swiss National Park. The ski touring guide sums it up: "Piz Laschadurella: Magnificent, but rarely visited ski summit; Piz Plavna Dadaint: One of the most beautiful mountain peaks in the Lower Engadine, but all the ascents are long; Piz Foraz: Magnificent, free-standing rocky summit, but all too long an ascent".
A yellow dot in a sea of white
All three of us are more freeriders than ski tourers, which is why the exciting descents in virgin snow are particularly appealing to us. Lightweight touring skis are therefore not an issue. So the next morning we set off on our wide freeride skis for the first ascent through the Val Laschadura to the east of Zernez. At first the weather doesn't really want to cooperate. Soon, however, the cloud cover clears and the first rays of sunshine join us. At the foot of Piz Laschadura, a fairytale snowy landscape sculpted by the wind awaits us. We set up our first camp on a small hilltop sheltered from the wind. As our summit goal is still to come, we leave all the equipment we don't need in the tent. Piz Laschadurella is quickly reached with the now much lighter backpacks.
Far below, an inconspicuous yellow dot is lost in the white sea of waves. Vanishingly small, our tent seems to be swallowed up by the mighty masses of snow. It's not just the unique panoramic view of the beautiful mountains of the Engadin and the neighboring Italian Alps that takes our breath away. The strong and icy cold north-easterly wind tugs and shakes our bodies. White patches on our cheeks and noses are the first warning signs and prompt us to tackle the descent through the rocky north-west flank as quickly as possible. The snow is heavily blown over and choosing the safest possible route requires all our experience. I try to take a few more photos of Jürg and Salome, but my lens has already capitulated to the wind and weather. Back at the tent, there is still a lot to do. And although the three of us have never been out in the mountains in this formation before, our little team quickly gets to grips with each other. The cold pit needs digging, a windbreak wall needs shoveling, the tent needs anchoring and shovels of snow need melting. Our small tent has to serve both as a place to sleep and as a kitchen. Jürg and Salome prove to be true masters of the stove and conjure up a multi-course meal in the smallest of spaces.
Due to the low temperatures, we are very careful to take all our damp clothes into the sleeping bag. A two-person tent is already cramped for three people, and with our shoes, climbing skins, clothes and gloves in the sleeping bag, comfort is out of the question. At least the physical closeness keeps us reasonably warm.
Snow report up close
The next morning comes a surprise that isn't really a surprise at all: it has snowed! Not outside, but in our tent. The water vapor that the three of us have produced in our cramped dwelling during the night is enough for "powder, good" on our sleeping bags! However, the warm breakfast porridge quickly awakens our spirits and we set off on the next stage feeling surprisingly rested. We want to reach our main goal today, the majestic Piz Plavna Dadaint, via the Fuorcla Laschadurella. Behind the pass, we briefly dip under the blanket of high fog, but as we ascend to our second bivouac site, we escape the gray, damp mass. The mighty Piz Plavna Dadaint slowly moves into our field of vision, its craggy peak rising majestically into the deep blue sky. Right next to a large snowdrift, we find the perfect spot for our camp. Time is pressing. We have to leave as quickly as possible. On the steep ascent, even the crampons are soon no longer any help and we tie our skis to the backpack. Our breath is whistling and sweat is pouring out of every pore. A real slog. Jürg repeatedly breaks through the snow knee-deep as he makes his way through the 40° steep west couloir. As if that wasn't enough, Salome struggles with severe intestinal cramps and nausea. The sneaky flu viruses won't let up. Nevertheless, she barely lets on and, together with Jürg, climbs all the way to the summit cross. But after the exertions of this long day, our thermos flasks are empty and our thirst drives us longingly down to our melting pan and the petrol stove.
Into the parlor
While Jürg heats things up, I shovel out a small dining room/kitchen combination in our neighboring snow wave. Unfortunately, Salome has been hit hard. She has to take a short break and shuttles between her sleeping bag and the toilet. Jürg's cooking has made our snow cave almost comfortably warm and we boys fill our bellies with pieces of salami and polenta. Salome also joins us, she's feeling a bit better now. Understandably, she holds back on the sumptuous dinner.
Our snow hole would be a bit too small to sleep in, so we quickly crawl into the tent. However, as I still want to get the obligatory long-exposure night shots into the box, I grudgingly peel myself out of the warm sleeping bag again. The north-easterly wind is doing its job again and it's really cold outside. When I take off my gloves, all feeling disappears from my fingers within a minute. As the name suggests, long exposures can take quite a while and the cold creeps mercilessly through the damp inner shoes into your toes. So I try to bridge the exposure time with rather awkward gymnastic exercises. Jumping and leaping, I marvel at the canopy of stars above us. It's unbelievable how intensely the many small lights illuminate the clear night sky. After a while, even the most beautiful starry sky can no longer hold me in the icy wind and I slip back into the tent with the others.
Powder for dessert
In the early morning of the third day, the weather deteriorates noticeably. Thick clouds are gathering and the temperature has risen noticeably. We have to rethink our original plan to climb Piz Foraz as well. As there is no mobile phone reception in this corner of Switzerland, the further development of the weather and avalanche situation is now the big question mark in the planning of our further plans. With a heavy heart, we therefore decide to skip Piz Foraz. Nevertheless, we continue eastwards up to the broad saddle of Fuorcla Pedrus.
Full of anticipation for the wide eastern slopes down into Val Plavna, we follow our lonely trail into the snow step by step. This is quickly followed by a bitter disappointment: the worst kind of wind-pressed snow cover makes skiing with a heavy backpack an exhausting affair. But who would have thought it: after just 100 meters in altitude, we are already carving wide curves in the fantastic deep snow! We indulge in the exhilaration for a full 700 meters in altitude, then stand at the bottom of the Val Plavna valley with a broad grin on our faces. It has become warm, too warm. Confirmed in our decision to forgo Piz Foraz, we ski the last 10 kilometers out of the valley to Tarasp. Not a single soul has crossed our tracks during our entire tour. Now we are standing somewhat lost amidst the crowds of tourists at Scuol station. But in our minds, the solitude of the Engadin mountains won't let us go any time soon.
Text and photos: Simon Starkl
