Halloween morning in the Alps

I woke up to cloudy skies and a peculiar realization - it's Halloween. Not that you'd really notice in Zermatt, where the towering presence of the mountains seems to dwarf such cultural celebrations. The village feels distinctly focused on its own rhythms rather than imported holidays.

My morning began with a walk through the quiet streets, which were still waking up. There's something magical about Zermatt at this hour - the way the village nestles into the valley, surrounded by peaks that reveal and conceal themselves through shifting clouds. After checking the weather forecast at the hotel, I decided to adjust my plans for the day. The predicted cloud cover meant that another trip up to Gornergrat wouldn't yield the spectacular views I'd been fortunate enough to witness earlier this week.

Instead, I found myself drawn to the edges of the village, where the developed area gives way to nature. I discovered a small path that followed a stream, its waters rushing with surprising force for late October. The path was dusted with the remnants of yesterday's light snowfall, and my footprints joined those of early morning hikers.

I stopped frequently to photograph the landscape - not just the dramatic mountain views when they appeared through breaks in the clouds, but the smaller details: alpine pines clinging to rocky outcrops, their needles frosted with ice; wooden bridges spanning clear rushing water; and the particular quality of light that filters through cloud cover in the mountains.

By mid-morning, I found myself at a small café I hadn't visited before, tucked away on a side street. I arrived just as they were opening at 10:00, the proprietor still arranging freshly baked pastries in the display case. The warmth inside was welcome after the brisk 45°F (7°C) outside.

I ordered a hot chocolate rather than my usual coffee and took it to a window seat where I could watch the village come to life. The chocolate was rich and thick, served with a small cookie on the side - a perfect antidote to the chill.

As I sat there, I reflected on my time in Zermatt. Four days feels about right for this place - enough time to see the Matterhorn in different lights, to explore the village thoroughly, to find favorite spots and return to them. I've accomplished what I came for: seeing the iconic mountain, experiencing the car-free Alpine village atmosphere, and comparing these mountains to the ones back home. The Swiss Alps have a more dramatic, jagged quality than Norway's mountains, which often feel more rounded and ancient.

I'm glad I decided to extend my stay by a day. That extra time allowed me to settle into the rhythm of the place, to experience it beyond just checking off the must-see sights. Heinrich's advice about patience and presence continues to resonate with me.

The clouds are hanging low today, with the forecast showing they'll persist throughout the afternoon. I'm planning to spend the rest of the day doing some practical tasks - laundry needs attention after a week in Switzerland, and I should start thinking about what I'll need for Italy's coastal climate. The temperature difference between here and Cinque Terre will require some wardrobe adjustments.

Tomorrow I'll be on the move again, heading to Italy as planned. I find myself both ready for the change and a little reluctant to leave. That seems to be the perpetual state of long-term travel - a tension between the pull of new horizons and the comfort of places where you've started to feel at home.

66 days in, 434 to go. The journey continues.

!Alpine stream on the outskirts of Zermatt Morning light on a partially frozen stream at the edge of the village