A small village on the way to Peace
A campsite that is enviable inside a 5-star hotel
A small church I came across while climbing the mountain behind me.
I was moved to tears by the hospitality towards unfamiliar travelers.
The simple act of knowing where you are—and how to get back—has always been central to the travel experience. Today, that reassurance comes from a smartphone and Google Maps, but the principle remains: a map offers a sense of control and possibility. It’s a belief that deepened during a recent journey through the Swiss Alps, leading to a surprising discovery in a remote mountain village.
It began on the last night in Zermatt, Switzerland, while studying Google Maps in a tent. A village, Grächen, caught my eye, located about 15 degrees off the mountain train track from Chairmat to Visp. The name sounded familiar; a trail running friend in Nepal had once recounted a trip there. He described it as the starting point for a grueling, three-day ultra trail race to the Italian border, and suggested visiting if I ever found myself in the Alps.
Reaching Grächen proved surprisingly easy. A bus from St. Niklaus, a stop on the mountain train line to Visp, delivered me to the village. The presence of a campsite sealed the deal; finding accommodation is always the first priority when traveling. For a solo female traveler, it’s a baseline safety measure, though it can also feel restrictive. The freedom a tent offers—the ability to escape some constraints—is invaluable.
Switzerland, with its commitment to environmental protection, prohibits wild camping, and fines can exceed 1,000 Swiss francs (approximately $1,100 USD). Fortunately, Grechen’s campground offered a convenient and affordable alternative. The next day, after finishing a visit to Chairmat, I traveled to Grechen via St. Niklaus.
Grächen sits on a plateau 1,620 meters (5,315 feet) above sea level, roughly 20 kilometers (12 miles) from Zermatt. It’s encircled by mountains exceeding 3,000 meters (9,843 feet), including the Distelhorn, Seetalhorn, and Plathorn. The scenery is breathtaking. Many Swiss mountains bear the name “Horn,” a German term meaning “sharp peak,” like the iconic Matterhorn.
Arriving at the campsite in the drizzling rain around 8 a.m., I found the check-in office unattended. I settled onto a bench, brewed tea, and breathed in the crisp morning air. An hour later, Sarah, the campsite owner, appeared with her dog, welcoming me as the first guest of the day. She inquired about how I’d discovered Grächen and if I’d participated in the ‘Ultra Trail Monte Rosa’ race.
I explained my arrival was simply a stopover on the way back to Geneva. Sarah was intrigued. “The 170km ultra race finished two days ago, and the athletes will be returning to the finish line today,” she said, suggesting I visit the town square for a festive atmosphere. She pointed towards a cloud-covered hillside, predicting the sun would emerge later in the day.
I quickly set up my tent. Grechen Campground was a spacious auto camping site, unlike the more compact site at Chair Mart. It catered to families in campervans and offered convenient amenities like a shared kitchen, bathroom, and laundry facilities. At 30 Swiss francs (approximately $33 USD) per night, the facilities rivaled those of a five-star hotel.
As Sarah predicted, the clouds parted around noon, revealing blue mountains and streams. I headed towards Grächen Square, a 3km climb up a winding road. There, an archway marked the finish of the ‘Monterosa Ultra Trail Race’. I wandered the square, anticipating the runners’ arrival, then turned towards the mountain overlooking the village.
Mountains exert a magnetic pull, and this one was no exception. Race markers dotted the path, conjuring images of determined athletes pushing their limits. I imagined the first finishers arriving in the late afternoon, and the last stragglers continuing well into the night. The mountain rose above the village, leading to a ski slope. It was quiet, save for the distant bellow of a black cow.
Turning to the sound of the wind, the village appeared miniature. I was reminded of Johanna Spyri’s “Heidi, the Alpine Girl.” I imagined a path leading to “Peace,” but lost sight of any trail markers. Disoriented, I wandered onto an unfamiliar ridge, anxiety creeping in. After a shaky detour, I found my way back, having missed the race’s finish. I vowed to return one day, properly registered, and run this mountain.
The next day, I climbed the mountain behind the campsite late in the afternoon, still tired from the previous day’s journey. Knowing I’d be leaving the following day, I set out, following Sarah’s recommendation to explore the trails towards Gasenried. This path led away from “Peace,” towards Chair Mart. Would I ever see the Matterhorn again? I climbed only a short distance, but the sheer scale of the mountain was overwhelming. Driven by an unseen force, I continued as far as I could.
I stumbled upon a small church nestled in the woods. At 1 p.m., an outdoor worship service was about to begin. “Welcome,” someone called out. “Come, sit with us. Let’s pray and share some bread.” It felt like divine intervention. Hungry and exhausted, I sat on the church steps as the villagers offered a warm welcome. Soon, a choir’s voices echoed through the valley, and tears welled up unexpectedly.
Jang Bo-young, author of ‘Anyway, Mountain’