It was a summer morning in the Lepontine Alps in Ticino, the Italian-speaking canton of Switzerland, and there was the faint threat of a storm on the horizon. I was already on the road through the larch and hazelnut forest, with my backpack on my shoulders, on the way to a mountain pass. Further on, a herd of short-haired goats grazed, their bells chiming merrily, while behind me the peaks towering over the Maggia Valley shuffled in and out of view from behind the clouds – each peak stark, stone teeth chipped and bared.
I hike in Switzerland every summer, but this time I was drawn to a new adventure, billed as the world’s first hammock hiking trail, west of popular Locarno. Launched last year, it starts in the village of Bosco Gurin and appeals to those who like to combine vertiginous walks with the more horizontal pastime of lounging in a hammock. It is a peaceful, low-impact journey that offers the chance to get to know one of Switzerland’s most special valleys.
I planned a swim in the first hammock, a snack in the second, a rest in the third, and ideally a nap in the fourth.
So far, the project, called Ggurijnar Hermi, features a dozen stations equipped for one or more hammocks, with each location measured for the ideal span and height, with fixed rubber straps attached to pine trees and carabiners with clip for a set of one second. -upwards. The locations were also chosen for their relaxing views. One is an easy uphill walk from the 15th-century church of Bosco Gurin. Another, with room for up to seven people, is on the riverbank, with a fire pit and a woodshed full of wood. Others are scattered along the signposted trails in the upper valley. My plan was to walk the entire circuit, which a hiker of average fitness can complete in about two days. It meant committing to the elements and reevaluating the idea of spending time well in the mountains.
I started with a counterclockwise hike to four of the sites, including one directly below the 2,137-foot Passo Quadrella, a mountain pass that offers a quick escape route to Italy. I had planned a swim at the first, a snack at the second, a rest at the third, and planned to sleep at the fourth, by the river.
In my backpack was a lightweight rented hammock (£14 per day/£35 per night, a map is also provided) from the Panetteria Sartori bakery (one of three places in the village that stock them), which was also handy to pick up essentials – a nut-filled pastry felt essential.
I walked uphill from the village and quickly found the first footholds, dangling above a natural pool
The Hammock Route is a community initiative and part of the idea is to engage, support and interact with locals so they can share their passion for the valley’s tranquil places with outsiders.
Before I left, I had a chat with the project’s architect, Zita Sartori, who was inspired to create the path and share some of her favorite places after receiving a hammock as a birthday gift during the 2021 lockdown. “Hammocks are a great tool for understanding the landscape in a new way,” she told me. “It’s not about posting photos on Instagram. It is staying outside and thinking differently.”
Alone, I walked uphill from the village and soon found the first support points, dangling above a natural swimming pool. The ritual of unfolding and hanging my crib was simple, and I thought about giving my day over to a long, lazy afternoon. The pool was clear but looked very cold. Instead of swimming, I simply swayed it back and forth like a metronome, listening to the sounds in silence.
The air turned drizzly and I pushed further up the mountain towards the second station, hidden in a belt of trees. A red kite took off. Under a hint of blue from behind the clouds, I unfolded the hammock again. Further on I could see Grossalp, a cluster of empty stone houses built around 1235 by Walser settlers, who came east from the canton of Valais to escape conflict with feudal lords. To me it seemed like a mini-kingdom, existing almost outside of history.
“The Walsers did not want to own the land; they wanted to live simply, quietly and independently without taking anything from the land,” Francesca Pedrocchi, vice president of Bosco Gurin’s Museum Walserhaus, told me before I started my walk. We can still learn from them today, she added, about caring for the environment. Somehow I felt like I was following in the footsteps of her ancestors, continuing their migration and starting over in a new place each time.
In mid-afternoon I meandered next to a waterfall below Passo Quadrella. I had been prepared to spend the rest of the day there, watching gloomy clouds and listening to the splashing of water on the rocks, but storm clouds had gathered and with heavy rain forecast I made the steep descent at pace . The drizzle turned into a storm, so instead of swinging my hammock out in the open on the riverbank, I headed for Bosco Gurin. Some compensation lay in the fact that the village’s main employer, Hotel Walser, combines community involvement with sustainability, and the kitchen strongly supports local farmers.
Stone streets led to fountains where locals had filled their buckets for centuries
Bosco Gurin is often described as one of the most beautiful villages in Ticino. Wood smoke billows from chimneys, houses are painted with allegorical scenes: a horse-riding angel spearing a crocodile; an ibex surrounded by a mountain. Stone streets lead to fountains where locals have filled their buckets for centuries. It reminded me of a summer I spent in Tibet, and the well-orchestrated modernity of Zurich and Basel seemed light years away.
The next day there was a persistent fog, a white patch on the mountain tops and no one on the trails. I had more stops to visit and picked up where I left off and headed to the Weltu Forest, following a path along the Rovana River. I spent most of the morning where I would have spent the night, with a bottle of coffee in my hammock and listening to the rumbling coughs of the river. With binoculars I scanned the trees for hawks.
The wilderness that had taken Sartori and made her think differently about her own environment for the first time was now working on me. By lunchtime I had climbed to higher ground, through the quiet orchards of Bawald-Wolfstaful and along a ridge. For the rest of that afternoon, my hammock – now attached to the underside of an aging wooden avalanche shelter – was my bed, my window to the valley. And during those final moments on the course, the rest of the world was just a ripple in the distance.
The trip was arranged by Ticino Tourism. For more information about the Ggurijnar Hermi hammock trail, visit ggurijnar-hermi.ch. Hammocks can be rented at Panetteria Sartori, Museum Walserhaus and Casa Moni B&B. Doubles at Hotel Walser from £184 half board. More information at myswitzerland.com