The Viamala Gorge, Switzerland

WRITTEN IN JULY 2016

Setting out on the Via Spluga reminded me, in many ways, of the journey of grief which I (and my family) began in 2014. It’s not uncommon for people to walk the Via Spluga. — Thousands of people have completed the journey, survived to tell the tale, and had their perspective of the world profoundly altered by the constantly changing scenery that they experienced on it.

When my Mum and I set out on the Via Spluga towards the Viamala Gorge we had a map of the trail, prepared for us by those who had gone before, and detailed notes giving directions on how to complete the trail safely. However, we had to navigate the trail entirely by ourselves; no one could do it for us! No one who had given us words of encouragement, on hearing that we were willing to attempt the trail, was actually there with us — all we could do was remember their words, believe that they were sincere, and look within ourselves for the courage to continue going. My Mum and I hiked an identical path in parallel and saw the same scenery all the way along it, but how we reacted to the scenery was different and the emotions it evoked in each of us were unpredictable every step of the way.

There were times, on the Via Spluga, when my Mum and I felt that we had got used to its rhythm and were able to continue along it as we gradually adapted to the new environment that we found ourselves in. Whenever that happened it wouldn’t be for long; we would soon encounter a mercilessly steep slope that would push us to our limit! Even when the steepness of the trail eased off, a storm would sometimes break! These unexpected, uncontrollable storms meant that what we had begun to perceive as a manageable path felt treacherous, threatening and acutely frightening. There were intense periods when the rain lashed hard, the sky was dark and the wind blew so powerfully that we felt desperate for respite. Whilst waiting for these storms to relent all we could do was protect ourselves, take brief shelter then resume our journey.

We passed through dense forest in which we could barely make out the daylight through the trees, and walked along gorges so vast that we could hardly detect the source of water and life coursing through their depths. There were times when all parts of our bodies ached from the exhaustion of our journey.

In 1794 Friederike Brun travelled through the the Viamala Gorge and wrote ‘All hope fades here — here where the blackest night envelops the darkest abyss and the most dizzying heights under its grotesque wings’. Brun was apparently mesmerised by the waters of the Hinterrhein River which were ‘pummelled into foam’. In Rhaeto-Romanic ‘Via mala’ means ‘bad path’. Grief is certainly a bad path to travel! Brun’s description of the Viamala Gorge is analogous to the pain of losing a loved one. The view I had previously had of life was pummelled into foam through my Dad’s illness and death, with the force of an enormous wave that could erode even the strongest rock.

When my Mum and I emerged from the Viamala Gorge the storm had passed, the path was no longer slippery, and we stopped trudging and were able to stroll gently for a while. This enabled us to regain our strength, which was much needed for the efforts that would be required further along the trail. Thick, heavy, grey thunderclouds had made way for light, white clouds which were gradually dispersing to reveal bright, blue sky. The shades of green on the mountainsides ahead seemed particularly colourful and striking after the darkness of the gorge. Looking back we could see that the gorge was still shrouded in mist — we did not feel proud that we had managed to walk through the long gorge safely, just very surprised. We could sense that there would be many other, great challenges ahead but believed we possessed the resources to face them especially in a spirit of solidarity, acceptance, gratitude and love.

More than 200 years since Friederike Brun travelled through the Viamala Gorge the water no longer roars through it but drains into a huge reservoir in the Hinterrhein catchment area. After eight days of breathing in fresh air, enjoying dramatic mountain scenery, indulging in fortifying food and beautiful wine, listening to the therapeutic sound of flowing water and seeing pretty vegetation in rocky landscapes where it would not be expected to bloom, my grief had started to mysteriously drain a bit and was no longer roaring. Inevitably my journey of grief did not finish when I reached the end of the Via Spluga trail but the enchantment and splendour of that trail, the Surettasee and Lake Como have helped to dissipate my sadness into a reservoir of effervescence.