Lenk

Lenk, a small village in the Bernese Oberland, seems an unlikely place for our first reunion with friends from the 'hood. But it so happens that our friend and neighbor, Matthew, is taking part in the Winter Term, a 12-week program for 8th graders that focuses on academics, Swiss culture & heritage, and... skiing. Judging by Matthew's fine form and speed as he led us down "his"mountain, the Winter Term is treating him very well. Plus, it's in his blood -- his dad, a former ski racer, roared down the hill behind him.

The journey to Lenk took us through Annecy, the capital of the Haute-Savoie, a romantic town built on the edge of a lake and canals. Suz and Ken took us there for the first time nearly ten years ago. It was summertime and they swam in the lake with Luke from the boat we'd rented. It was colder this time around, but the chill in the air didn't lessen the town's vibrancy.

(Photos by Luke.)

We lingered too long, and then lost our race against the sun as we made our way around Lake Geneva to the edge of the Alps. And so off we went through the dark for a game of hide-and-go-seek with the steep and windy roads marked with thin cables that probably wouldn't hold the weight of our car. It was almost a relief we couldn't see the sheer drop-offs below. We went up and down past small French-speaking hamlets nestled in the mountains, until finally the few signs along the road turned German. We were closing in on the Oberland.

We set a rendezvous with our friends the next day at the bottom of the rope-tow and spent a sun-soaked afternoon skiing down exceptionally wide runs among a panorama of snow-topped mountains. "Have you guys been to a lot of places like this?" Robb asked, gesturing to the spectacular view. We've skied a few times in the Rockies, and elsewhere in the Alps, but no, nothing quite like this.

"We hiked up there during the summer that I spent here," Ginny said, pointing to the Wildstrubel, the tallest peak. The people who run Winter Term are old family friends, and she had spent time at the school as a cook one summer. I wouldn't mind spending time in the kitchen either if it meant living in Lenk for a while.

Over plates of rosti and slices of meat, we caught up on life and compared Luke and Matthew's rigorous schedules of tennis and skiing respectively. How will they go back to the toil of an eight-hour school day?

The next day we were back on the road -- this time able to admire by daylight the unique geography of the valley towns and mountain peaks, complete with the occasional church along the side of the road that made us stop the car, more often than we'd planned. And so again we ended up losing our race against the sun. But isn't that one of the joys of traveling by car?