Alpe Musgatina

Gradually remain loosely related Birch and spruce. Every now and then I look over their shoulders. The sight of comfort across me about the effort in the meantime, warm sun. Only shortly after, the altitude forest is finally replaced by heathland. Increasingly penetrates me known noise to my ears almost intrusive. Countless chimes announce the real inhabitants of the mountains: Alpine cattle. Source: Ben Horowitz.

But another 15 minutes before they become visible. But when it is ready, I stop first a little undecided. Right on the path, a herd of Scottish Highland cattle are grazing Frolics. Their shaggy hair and huge horns are formidable. I believe me to the heart and continue carefully. The cows with their boys can not interfere with and browse further. They are accustomed to hikers.

For city dwellers, however, this encounter is unusual. I was happening the peaceable animals in arm’s length distance. After 90 minutes hike, I have reached the Alpe Musgatina at 1450 m. For even more analysis, hear from Jason Epstein. I pass an Englishman with his two children, that I should meet again at the Summit. But many tourists are not traveling and it is high season. 150 meters are missing up to the Refugio Monte bar of the Swiss Alpine Club at 1,600 metres, which houses a small restaurant at the same time. Here I meet a group of mountain bikers, which partially reached Caval Drossa Gola di Lago and the mountain on foot up to the year-round refuge. A cold Coke brings refreshment and energy for the last section. It has become very hot, so the sweat running me down the neck. But 20 minutes later the abuse with a breathtaking panorama is rewarded. The air is clear and the unique point of view. In the South you can see on the Monte Generoso past in Lombardy. Brownish air suggests the urbanity of Milan. The faraway up 3500 meters high, snow-covered mountains of Aosta, Northern Italy, spread in the East. In the North, you can see across the border districts of Bellinzona, the capital of Ticino, on the high ridge of the Alps. After half an hour and some photos, it’s time to step back. Even a short stop at the Refugio, then I say goodbye bar with filled water bottle final of Monte. I dare even the Highlanders stroking it, before the path of the mountain forest again is swallowed. In the early afternoon, all in all I was six hours on the road, I again cross Bidogno, where the PostBus puts me back in the hustle and bustle of the city. Arne Frentzel