The secret to a crowd-free ski tour in the Bernese Alps, Switzerland

Words and images by Finlay Wild

Approaching the summit, we were more excited by the view to the hut than today’s high point. Our eyes were drawn to the complicated structure of its five projecting dormers and the maroon roof, all that was visible above the snow. The hut lay nestled in a depression on the western edge of the Muverans massif in the Bernese Alps, Switzerland.

These mountains alter the direction of the Rhône river, turning it north at Martigny towards Lake Geneva. In the harsh, midday light there were no signs of activity, no chimney smoke, no ski tracks. This wasn’t a surprise however; this was the plan. The hut was closed.

Each alpine hut is unique: what would we find here? Some are hotel-like bustling mega huts, fully staffed and crowded: you are told when to eat and sleep. Others are merely cold, metal shacks in isolated spots with musty blankets for a cramped half dozen folk. Staffed huts allow your rucksack to stay light by providing meals and heat, but there’s an allure to visiting unstaffed, quieter shelters where you can deal with things as you find them, without a guardian officiating. Rosie, my partner, ripped off her skins and skied an easy slope, leading us to the hut.

It was deserted. Faded paint on the metal roof added to the abandoned feeling. We weren’t explorers, just ski tourers, but it does feel thrilling to discover things anew. Snow covered all but the hot, bright red roof. We noticed one of the dormer windows was actually a hatch. A shovel - the telltale detail - poked up from the snow.

In five minutes we had dug out the entrance and removed the cover. The window opened easily. It was dark and deep. Bristling to explore, there was also a sort of reverence,a reluctance to disturb this quiet place. We climbed in and down onto a deliberately placed stool. Removing boots, we descended a long steep ladder past bunks to the floor. It was like climbing down into a tomb, a deep silence and stillness. Blanket slay neatly folded on the bunks, everything in order. Moving along a dark corridor we stepped light-footed into the main space, a beautiful wooden room lit gently by sepulchral light from above. There was a central stove, a tidy kitchen; seating. A tuck shop with honesty box sat laid out, ready. The hut register revealed we were the first visitors for weeks.

The hut was unguarded, meaning there was no hut keeper. Alpine huts open for defined periods each year, this hut being staffed between June and October. The rest of the time it can be used “self service”, albeit with limited facilities. We lit the modern wood stove which was quickly roaring and imbued a friendly glow. The first job was to sort water.

Usually a laborious task, melting snow turned out to be easy. We took pots from the kitchen out onto the flat roof, filled them with snow and left it to melt in the afternoon heat. Emerging from the subterranean coolness, we peeled off insulating layers as we stretched out like cats, enjoying the warm, metal roof. The heat had been a major factor in our decision to come here: it was a particularly hot spring period and we had ditched our initial plan due to concerns that key slopes could become unsafe in the afternoon heat. Our new plan had allowed a later start utilising lower angled slopes and a ridge. Now in position, we could start early the next day to beat the heat.

As the shadows lengthened and evening progressed, we watched the sunset over Dents du Midi. To our south, the Mont Blanc massif appeared to grow closer as warm light lit its western flanks. Back in the hut it was chilly despite the fire. We had an early night beneath three blankets each.

The next morning, we started predawn on well- refrozen snow. After a fast, firm descent we skinned up past another empty hut and an exposed traverse led to easier terrain and the Grande Dent de Morcles (2969m). This is a popular ski peak from Ovronnaz to the east and we saw a few teams emerge from that direction. Just off the summit there is a narrower section with drops to either side which requires care. Following this, we skied nicely-softening snow, but the impending further warming created a steady urgency.

Next we took a descending traverse and were pleased to find that our westerly aspect, sheltered from the morning sun by the Grand Chavalard, was still firm and made for quick progress. We had a brief stop at another unguarded cabin. Seeing few people allowed us to imagine ourselves somewhere more remote and expansive: our kingdom for a day.

Our final climb ascended a short potential terrain trap but as it was still early it felt safe enough. We climbed to the southerly end of yesterday’s initial ridge and sat looking down to the hot, flatlands of the Valais. Continuing west it was a quick ski to the snowline and the walkout. Fresh forest scents wafted in the building heat as we transitioned from waning winter into full blooming spring. As we walked I reflected on contrasts: from the heat of the day to the cool calm of the hut; the diurnal transformation of snow from firm to unstable and back; and also on finding our own slice of solitude on a modest tour in the busy Swiss Alps.