A view from the Treetop Walkway, Neckertal, Switzerland, April 2024.

A break from my weekly/daily routine was much needed so, on being given one and a half days off work in mid-April, I took a train to the city of St. Gallen in north-east Switzerland. It delights me that it’s possible to travel from Geneva, in the west of Switzerland, to the opposite side of the country, in less than four hours! I have often watched the Geneva–St. Gallen train pull out of the station, and even travelled on it countless times as far as Zurich, and have always been curious about discovering the attractions of the canton at the end of that train line.

St. Gallen’s name originates from an Irish missionary monk, Gallus, who founded a hermitage there in around AD 612. The city has a Baroque cathedral with an Abbey Library containing 170,000 books, and the entire Abbey precinct is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. However, I wasn’t really in the frame of mind for culture and was craving nature. So, I caught a train to Mogelsberg, west of St. Gallen, with the aim of walking up to the Treetop Walkway in the Neckertal region.

I half-heartedly set off from Mogelsberg train station over a covered bridge, then up steps built into the hillside holding the wooden handrail and trying not to trip on the metal grates which had been nailed onto each step. — The falling rain made the ground slippery and I missed the days before my dramatic fall in Corfu (in October 2019), when I would generally feel more joy than anxiety when setting out on a walk. Although the weather and my mood were sombre both of these were brightened when, shortly after successfully reaching the top of the steps, the path led past an orchard featuring trees that were abundant with striking pink and white blossom of different kinds.

The orchard merged into the forest that contained the Treetop Walkway which I wished to visit. I passed one fellow walker (who smiled at me cordially) on entering the forest but, but the rest of the hike up to my destination was one of blissful solitude. All I could hear in the forest was the rain gently dripping onto the ground, the breeze blowing through the trees, and an enchanting variety of songbirds. As I concentrated on the thoroughly beautiful serenade of chirping, whistling and warbling I enjoyed an intensifying feeling of serenity.

After walking about 1 kilometre, and climbing up around 100 metres in elevation, I felt a rush of excitement when I saw the Treetop Walkway winding around beguilingly through the trees above me! I bought a ticket for the walkway and followed it around for 500 metres, enjoying views over the Neutoggenburg landscape and Neckertal region and learning (from the ‘discovery stations’ dotted around the walkway) about the different species of trees that were visible, native forest animals, forest layers and ecosystems and local geology.

The wooden cabin where I had bought my ticket had a café in which the soup of the day was ‘leek and potato’ (my favourite soup!), offered with a fresh, crusty bread roll, so I spontaneously stopped there for lunch. I was the only customer at the Treetop Walkway that morning. The two assistants in the café told me that the walkway is never very popular in wet weather and laughed when I told them that, being British, I am not easily deterred by rain! It was a surreal but wonderful experience eating homemade soup in an empty cabin in a forest.

It was explained on the walkway that, through tapping on a tree and listening, woodpeckers can hear whether the tree sounds hollow. — Hollow trees contain bugs, which are food for woodpeckers! Woodpeckers can create cavities for their nests in tree trunks which are rotten inside. Thanks to the delicious soup my stomach was no longer hollow. However, I felt sad about how damaging many of my encounters with shallow human beings have been, particularly in recent years. I wish there was a way of quickly discerning, in initial interactions and conversation with others, the real nature of the basis on which a relationship (whether professional, friendly or romantic) is being built. Unfortunately, there does not appear to be any reliable mechanism for gauging sincerity or malicious intentions — I think that only time, risk, repeated mistakes, and applying the lessons learned from hurtful behaviour and agonising heartbreak, can enable us to better perceive the truthfulness of communication.

Throughout my exploration of the Treeptop walkway, lunch in the cabin and walk down through the forest (to catch the train back to St. Gallen), the songbirds continued to produce a mesmerising melody. The song ‘Songbird’ came into my head. — Released by Fleetwood Mac a couple of months before I was born, and popularized by Eva Cassidy in the 1990s, the lyrics state that ‘For you, there’ll be no more crying…The sun will be shining, Because I feel that when I’m with you, It’s alright, I know it’s right’. I was thinking particularly of my father, Uncle Alec and godmother, Dorothy (all deceased), and consoled by the idea that they are now probably listening to birds singing for eternity. I sensed they were all telling me that I shouldn’t let sadness overwhelm me as frequently as it does. When I can imagine their souls (and the souls of others who I have loved and lost) with me, things do feel alright.

The song continues ‘To you, I’ll give the world, To you, I’ll never be cold…’. My adventure in the Canton of St. Gallen was reinforcing my conviction that we must live life on behalf of those who have lost theirs, and seize opportunities to realise our aspirations and have fun! I promised myself that I will wholeheartedly pursue my dreams.

The next two verses of the song declare ‘…The songbirds are singing, Like they know the score, And I love you, I love you, I love you, Like never before’, and ‘And I wish you all the love in the world, But most of all, I wish it from myself’. It is comforting to think that God knows the score, and why certain interactions are so painfully difficult and the true reality of challenges that we are facing in our lives.

In describing the consequences of choosing well-being over previous, unhealthy patterns Robin Norwood writes that ‘…Self-love grows slowly and steadily. First we stop hating ourselves, then we become more tolerant of ourselves. Next, there is a burgeoning appreciation of our good qualities, and then self-acceptance develops. Finally, genuine self-love evolves’. I reckon that attaining a state of ‘genuine self-love’ (whatever that is!) is probably the quest of a lifetime for far more people than the average self-help blog would claim. However, I vowed to try and love myself (or, at least, strive for self-acceptance!) ‘like never before’.

Doe Zantamata asserts: ‘Forgiving yourself means loving who you used to be. Self-worth means loving who you are. Confidence means loving who you are becoming’. With the help of the songbirds and serenity in the Canton of St. Gallen, on a rainy April day in the forest, I believe that I have made significant progress towards achieving this highly desirable, harmonious balance.