Once again, the last evening of the calendar year has come much quicker than anyone expected. For weeks, colleagues and friends have been asking "What are you doing on New Year's Eve? Any plans yet? Shouldn't we do something together?" were somehow more or less cleverly brushed aside. Who knows what the weather will bring and what extraordinary skiing days could be torpedoed by overly meticulous event planning, and now suddenly it's already time and everyone is somehow fully booked. What now? Like every year, go into town for the fireworks and then get lost in some random bar afterwards? Or a fondue evening with lead pouring and a mud ball fight - because you can't call the grey stuff down here in civilization snow - at midnight with the few Trantüten who don't have any plans? Or dinner for one and an early night? We have tested an alternative: Get out of the hustle and bustle and up the mountain. The harsh snow crunches quietly and regularly under our snowshoes. We - my sweetie and I - don't say a word. We just marvel at the glistening world around us. Since we broke through the fog line a few minutes ago, the universe and the winter landscape below have cast a spell over us. The forming frost glistens ruby red from our headlamps. Their thin, red glow is enough to find a safe and fluid footing, but does not dazzle. This allows the beauty of the cosmos to hit us with full force. And it is so powerful that we both fall silent.
The fog that is obligatory for this region on the ultimate day of the year blocks the otherwise omnipresent light of civilization like a absorbent cotton blanket, and the stars shine with an intensity that is now unfortunately unheard of at our latitudes. The Milky Way is clearly trailing its band over us, Orion is watching over us on the horizon and the ISS shines almost blindingly bright as it passes by. We set off from the parking lot around half an hour ago - around half past nine, as planned, so that we have enough time to reach the flat summit of Spital (see Tour of the Week) before the old year ends. But we hadn't expected such dense fog and for the first few steps we had serious doubts about the purpose of our undertaking. Would the fog reach further up than expected? Would it still descend? Do we even have everything? All these doubts have now vanished and the little girl trudges uphill in front of me with an astonished grin and wide, shining eyes. Her head with the red spotlight keeps swiveling in all directions and only rarely does it hit the ground in front of her feet. Somehow, with her big backpack and white suit, she looks like Neil Amstrong on the moon landing.
We trudge uphill at a leisurely but steady pace. Up onto the ridge and around a bend that gives us a clear view of the misty Lake Zurich basin. And the next unreal impressions. An otherworldly ocean spreads out before us, in which strangely bioluminescent gas creatures are up to mischief. It glows diffusely, then suddenly lights up brightly and all in yellow, blue, green, red and other colors. The lights of civilization mingle with the early fireworks for the little children who have to go to bed early and, together with the fog, create an unreal carpet of diffuse lights, the likes of which I have never seen before. We stand next to each other in amazement and silence, almost forgetting that our highlight was actually still to come. But at some point we tear ourselves away and continue towards the summit. There are only a few meters to climb and we leave the actual summit to the left. Instead, we set up a small camp in the lee of an alpine hut to enjoy our truffle fondue on the gas stove. Wrapped up extra warm, we sit opposite each other at the gas stove and happily dip our bread into the soft, warm cheese. We keep looking up at the sky and back down at the sea of fog. An almost glaring shooting star tears the sky and us from our thoughts. We quickly make a wish.
A glance at the clock shows that the new year is already several minutes old! I open the Prosecco, light two sparklers and say "Happy New Year!" The sparklers look silly, pale and insignificant against the firmament, but somehow they fit the moment. And it is full of happiness. If that's not the right way to start the new year, what is? Satisfied and resting deep within ourselves, we linger until the cold makes its creeping and treacherous presence felt. With clammy fingers, we stow away our junk and a slight shiver of cold shows how suboptimal the combination of cheese fondue, blood-flow cetralization and cold is. But after a few steps, we quickly feel warm again. One last picture at the summit cross and we descend. Even though the surroundings have lost none of their beauty and fascination, we quickly reach the car, which is now covered in fog. Somehow fitting, as we only experience the desolate moment of descending into the white-grey intermediate world when we are already deep in the clutches of civilization again. A few hours into the first day of the new year, we fall happily and contentedly into our soft, cozy bed and know that we won't be up and about so quickly tomorrow. We are certainly not alone in this. But the images in our heads will remain a rarity.
What you need to know
Even an individual New Year's Eve doesn't go off without a hitch, it takes a bit of planning. But this can definitely be done in the morning. A suitable mountain needs to be found. And a suitable means of transportation. As with every tour, light and weather conditions play a decisive role. And since the whole thing happens at night, you should plan well within your comfort zone. Both in terms of the level of difficulty and safety. It is virtually impossible to assess the risk of avalanches at night. And you don't even want to try out what happens if the shit hits the fan at night. So the safety margin has to be huge. What's more, you need to be able to stay up there for a while and enjoy the whole tour. And it's not about the sporting challenge. We opted for a small hill in the foothills of the Alps, the Spital near Einsiedeln (see Tour of the week). And as a means of ascent for snowshoes. This makes it easy to manage the ascent and descent identically, there are no surprises and - depending on the moon - you can get by with little to no artificial light. But then the planning begins, which is sometimes so different: thermos flask with mulled wine, stove, pot, ready-made fondue, bread, forks, bottle of Prosecco and Cüpli, sparklers instead of fireworks - that was our list. Of course, there are many different possibilities here. In any case, it's worth taking an extra warm jacket, extra gloves and hat, a bivouac sack, a sleeping mat to sit on, quick energy such as sweet tea, glucose or muesli bars and a few pocket warmers. If the sky is clear, don't underestimate the radiation and thermals, it gets cold quickly. Really cold. Especially if you sit still and gaze at the world. Furthermore, one usable headlamp per person - preferably also with a red light - and spare batteries are highly recommended. A camping lamp for more light when eating can be very useful. You should also plan your time requirements carefully - after all, you want to be at the top by midnight, but not ages before. Otherwise you won't be able to enjoy it at the end. But with this preparation, nothing stands in the way of an unusual New Year's Eve. More pictures in the gallery
