Goodbye Zermatt, hello uncertainty

The morning fog hangs low over Zermatt, obscuring the mountain peaks that have been my companions for the past few days. It's just past noon, and I'm sitting in my hotel room, luggage packed and stacked by the door. My train leaves in a few hours, and that familiar mix of excitement and melancholy has settled in my chest.

I woke up early today, determined to soak in a few more hours of this car-free alpine village before moving on. The weather forecast showed clouds with a chance of snow tomorrow, making me somewhat relieved about my timing. I've been fortunate to see the Matterhorn in all its glory – not everyone gets that chance.

After a quick breakfast at the hotel, I took one last walk through the village streets. Saturday morning in Zermatt has its own rhythm – tourists with heavy backpacks checking out of accommodations, others just arriving with fresh enthusiasm in their eyes. I recognize that look. It was mine five days ago.

I found myself at a small bakery I hadn't visited before, where I ordered a pain au chocolat and coffee. The pastry was flaky and buttery, with rich chocolate that melted perfectly. I savored each bite while watching people pass by the window – a final moment of Zermatt people-watching.

On my way back to the hotel, I stopped at the small wooden bridge where I first got a clear view of the Matterhorn days ago. The mountain was playing hide-and-seek with the clouds this morning, occasionally revealing its distinctive pyramid shape before disappearing again. I stood there for several minutes, trying to commit the view to memory.

"You're leaving today?" a voice asked beside me. It was the elderly shop owner from the souvenir store I'd visited yesterday. She smiled when I confirmed. "The mountain is saying goodbye to you," she said, pointing to the brief moment when the peak emerged from clouds. "It does that sometimes."

Back at the hotel now, I've spent the last hour organizing my backpack and checking train connections. The plan is to head south, crossing into Italy and making my way to Milan. From there... well, I'm not entirely sure yet. That's the beauty and anxiety of this journey – the constant balance between planning and spontaneity.

I've been in Switzerland for nearly two weeks now, longer than I initially anticipated. The mountains have a way of making you want to stay, of slowing down time and priorities. But 67 days into this journey, with 433 still ahead, I can feel that familiar restlessness returning. It's time to move on.

I think about Heinrich and his forty consecutive Octobers in Zermatt. There's something beautiful about that kind of dedication to a place. Perhaps someday I'll have my own tradition like that, but for now, my path leads elsewhere.

The clouds have thickened outside my window, and the temperature has dropped. The forecast mentions snow tomorrow. I'm leaving just in time, it seems, though part of me would love to see these streets dusted in white. That's for another visit, perhaps.

Time to head downstairs and settle my bill. The train to Italy awaits, and with it, new landscapes, new challenges, and new stories. Auf Wiedersehen, Zermatt.

Posted: November 1, 2025, 12:10pm local time