Runalong

The last day of our trek was one of the very best. I wrote it up a couple weeks ago and my computer ate it and it sufficiently discouraged me that I'm just now finally getting around to re-doing it. At any rate we enjoyed a relatively flat stretch toward Zermatt with splendid views of the Matterhorn; manifold wildflowers and few more "trisky" sections. Above Zermatt my now-buff companions decided to take the underground funicular down to town while I enjoyed a run down the heavily travelled trail (many tourists take the ride up and walk down) through a couple cute villages, past a waterfall and, of course, past hordes of Japanese tourists who looked at this gray-bearded American flinging himself wildly down the hill with looks of amazement. Perhaps they wondered if something was chasing me.

In Zermatt we met up with our Swiss friends who we had shared several dinners with. Sybille has since written to us, inviting us to visit her and her family in their hometown. Maybe someday. We had a celebratory meal, bought a couple souveneirs, and eventually hopped the train back to Germany and thence to home. It was time to leave and go home- we all could feel it. We didn't want it to end. But we were ready. We didn't know what we felt, but it didn't really matter. We were going home. But when I look at these pictures...