Redbud trees along the Blue Ridge Mountains Blue Ridge Parkway seem to glow through the early, budding trees on my trip back from North Carolina two weeks ago.

As you may have read earlier, Ramps were in season,  which made my trip even more worth while. This ‘wild leek of Appalachia’ is also known as Allium tricoccum var. burdickii – a local foraging treat that now finds itself on the hippest tables of foodies across the Northeast. I was able to find some to pick at a friends house but also was able to get some seed – who knows if I can raise them in our woodland, but I am going to try in a raised bed where I grow trillium seedlings.

Rocky Knob & Mabry Mill was about as scenic as a postcard (remember those?). Once a gristmill and a saw mill, it in now a popular stop along the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia. It was Easter Sunday, so I basically had the road to myself, which was kind-of nice. I felt as if I travelled back in time to 1800.

Old dogwood trees and wild flowers were everywhere.

Along the Blue Ridge Parkway, there are many historic sites, this one had amazing split rail fences,  but I couldn’t explore long as a line of thunderstorms was moving in, and I was on a ridge.

Later in the evening, just on the West Virginia Border, a thunderstorm on the Blue Ridge Parkway produced this rainbow as it passed just south of me.

After the storm, the migrating songbirds became very active, and I could hear various thrushes including robins, orioles and many warblers.

As thunderheads moved away in the distance, the sun returned and suddenly, everything looked like a nineteenth century painting.

As the sun set, the thunderheads which continued to grow in the distance far in the east, captured the setting sun.

The mountains became bluer, and one can see why they earned their name.

The next day, I continued my journey through Maryland, and later, central Pennsylvania where I came across this field of rape seed or mustard in full, spring glory. I saw it in the distance, and decided to take an exit from the highway and explore a bit on the back roads.

This was farm country, and every farm looked like a toy – don’t worry, it wasn’t an omen! Or, was it?

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The snow melted quickly in Reykjavik, on most days, the temperatures hovered around freezing. Iceland was very similar in climate to New England, at least in March and April.

It’s just a couple of weeks after Easter Sunday here in Iceland, and many of the stores and homes are still decorated.

There is still plenty of snow cover in the north, where one is closer to the polar regions, but even in Reykjavik, which is in the souther eastern portion of the country, there was some snow. It was snowing when our flight  arrived and snowing back in Boston, as well.

There are only a handful of geysers in the world, and some of the best happen to be in Iceland.

Reykjavic lays just south of many mountain ranges, and the rest of the country – extending many miles and hours north, is relatively barren with a few farms in between. From across the fjord here, you can see raw nature just miles away.

We visited Iceland’s version of Home Depot, and were impressed with the color selection for home colors in their paint department. Coral-red, mustard, sage and light blues – clearly, the colors were limited but I can’t help but imagine that this palette helps make the island nation look even nicer.

Driving north, Jess and I stopped to climb a few ridges to appreciate the amazing views, often with any sign of man in sight. No roads, street lights, jet trails but occasionally electrical wires on pylons. With so much geothermal energy,  electricity production is big business in Iceland.

Can you see the rainbow? This remote lake was frozen, and with only the site and sound of migrating birds. In a few weeks. when the ice thaws, these lakes will host one of the Planet’s most diverse and rich populations of nesting waterfowl and waders.

It was encouraging to see that in some of the very remote areas, these pylons are forbidden. This sign was seen driving north on the western coast, where one could see for at least 30 miles and not see even a pylon.

Once in the north, only a few miles from the Arctic Circle, the temperatures were significant’y colder, and it snowed most every day.

In the northernmost city of Akureyi, the second largest city in Iceland, a  fearless use of color tints many homes. Homes here appear to made either of concrete, or sided in corrugated metal. Probably due more to the cost and shortage of wood than the cold.

Google helped us find our favorite coffee shop, although, once we found it, we discovered that it very ‘Wes Anderson’-like.

The Icelandic Winter Games was one reason why we went to Iceland. The idea of skiing under the Northern Lights intrigued us, but that never happened. There was clearly a ‘small town’ feel about this event, which we really liked.  Snowboard pipelines, and a snow mobile rally made the night exciting, high above the small city and ocean beyond.

It was snowing hard, but the steep snowy slopes were no match for the many 4X4’s that made their way up the hill.

No trees, and a very arctic looking ocean to ski down to, made the experience very special and unique. You could ski with your eyes closed, because there were so few people here.

Super premium all natural fish snacks – – – for dogs. It’s what Icelandic dogs eat.

One of the first things I do, when visiting another country, is to peruse the supermarket aisles. This looked interesting.

Our AirBNB was so pretty, the host is clearly an artist, with her paintings on most every wall, and lots of Scandinavian influenced color and patterns. Jess, as  a designer herself,  really liked it.

Jess posed on one of the many colorful sofas in our AirBNB.

On the way back ‘home’ to Reykjavic, the setting sun enhanced the views.

This country had such amazing vista’s and nature, that even though there were few interesting plants, especially in winter, I am certain that I will return again.

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Our land speeder made traversing this planet rather easy, and…it played gay disco music from the 70’s (which the native population apparently enjoys).

It’s not a stretch to imagine what it is like on Mars while touring Iceland. It’s easy to see why feature films often use Iceland’s epic scenery as a location for interplanetary travel, and to be honest, there were a few time while here that it felt a bit too much like ‘The Martian’, than it did Planet Earth. Here are a few more images of this beautiful and remote country.

Danger lurked everywhere, due to the cold temperatures and the atmospheric conditions.

In some valley’s. there was some low plant life, which was interesting given the volume of water on this planet.

Some areas were inhospitable, difficult to walk through so we could only document them on film. A distant volcano hinted at the planet’s geologic history.

Judging by the foot prints, we were not alone.

With some elevation, this blue planet displayed a tremendous volume of water. Most of it appeared crystal clear, and safe for drinking. Someone should bottle it and sell it.

Yet some of the water seemed un-drinkable and acidic at first. We found it to be highly alkaline. Blue cyan-bacteria populated some water sources, which the local’s used as a skin treatment (i.e. facial masks at the Blue Lagoon? I won’t share those pic’s.).

Our diet of licorice, vodka and herring made us feel vital and healthy.

Sulphureus fumes from fumaroles hinted that everything might smell like rotten eggs (it did).

There are few places to pee when there are no trees and our space suits were not equipped.

Rainbows were everywhere. actually, this was a snow-bow.

An interesting outpost hinted of another visit by other explorers – it held two cots, and some basic supplies enough for one night in the frigid temperatures.

The language here is difficult to learn. Siri, on our translation device did an admirable job.

Yet sometimes, Google Maps just seemed to make gibberish out of the language.

Spectacular waterfalls seemed to be at every turn, making a second visit a must.

Our land cruiser handled the rough terrain well, although we got pretty muddy.

…but the  atmosphere was totally breathable, (the design of our space suits was necessary color,  due to the color of the environment and for safety concerns).

We could not help but notice that there was only one sun in this system, but it didn’t warm the atmosphere that well.

The solar storms at night were brilliant, and safe. The symbol of the letter ‘M’ freaked me out a bit.

The Aurora Borealis ended each night with style. We were fortunate to be 2 hours from our basecamp one evening, which allowed us to capture amazing images without interference. We were not looking forward to our journey back home.

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It’s easy to see Iceland makes the top ten remote places to visit both with Lonely Planet and Unesco site lists.   We reach a ridge overlooking the magnificent Thjors River in the  Thjorsardalur valley in south-central Iceland.  Only one icy paved road, but not a single building, pylon or electric light  in sight – not mention that there were no jet trails.

Yes, even I need a vacation from plants.

So, after a long, and rather mild (and yet recently snowy?) late winter here in New England, an ‘island vacation’ seemed to be in order.  When the opportunity to visit Iceland with some friends came along, I acted quickly. Iceland is quickly becoming an ‘it’ destination, Iceland, although it has been on my ‘must visit’ list for an embarrassingly looooooong time.

Like….from the 1970’s when I was a kid.

This trip to Iceland helped fulfill a lifelong dream to one day re-create the tales in this 1959 book by bird artist George Miksch Sutton, a frequent read of mine, when I was in junior high.

My junior high school librarian surely knew this, as there was one book that I checked out so often that I remember her telling me that I should just buy it. This trip really started with ‘Iceland Summer – Adventures of a Bird Painter’, a summer of birding chronicled by the noted ornithologist and bird artist, George Miksch Sutton.

Recently, I found an old copy on eBay, and it made it’s way in my suitcase to northern Iceland, where I now sit near a window in the small city of Akureyi, about 40 miles from the Arctic Circle. It’s where we are starting our journey around the western and southern side of the country.

This Common Eider, a large sea duck, was just one of many in a flock I was observing in the Eyjafjor∂ur Fjord, just outside of the northern Iceland city of Akureyi – which sits about 40 Km from the Arctic Circle.

I am here with my friend Jess (who is neither a birder, nor a nature person, but we can compromise between design research, and rare birch species.). Because of this, I am just treating this trip more as a sourcing trek, than anything else – so that next time, when I come here, I’ll know where to go, and how things work.

I am too early to do any birdwatching, as most breeding migratory birds don’t arrive for a month or so, but I did see some Puffin’s on display in a gift shop – they still hunt them here, and eat their meat as well, but hunting is restricted.

There are few places on Earth so populated by nesting birds, however, and although most of the birds which migrate here have not arrived yet for nesting, there are few song birds – most are wading species or waterfowl. Still, Iceland is considered a global birding hotspot with millions of birds due to arrive any week now.

Hraun, or block lava is common here – a unique, young basaltic lava which is sharp enough to cut ones skin, is covered with Racomitrium, or soft-fringe moss, which turns brilliant green with the summer rains, but in winter, is still a beautiful sage tone.

Heather grows in the southern part of the country, and was the only plant I could find in bloom.

One doesn’t go to Iceland to see plants, and even from the alpinist’s perspective, the flora itself, is just not that uncommon.  The nation’s isolation has kept many species of plants limited (and gratefully, even reptiles and mosquitos don’t exist here!), but this isolation and harsh climate also brings with it challenges for the few plant which exist here.

The great sub-arctic means that plantlike if limited. Welcome to the tundra and tephra landscape,  the land of lichens and fringe-moss.

Woolly Willow predominates the landscape in many areas. Only a few meters tall, it is one of about half dozen species of dwarf of shrubby sub-arctic willows in Iceland.

Trees, in fact, are so rare, that the few forests which remain are small, and precious. Any native species of plants are face challenges from over-grazing, let alone natural challenges brought on by the harsh climate which affects soil microbes and fungi. All of this hampers any natural growth as it is because microbes affect soil fertility. Factor in a natural lack of nitrate and phosphate in the geologically  ‘new’ soil, and any growth with trees or plants, is limited.

Arctic Birches are rare, and mature, if not ancient ones like this, are even more rare in the Kjarr, or Icelandic Birch Forests.

The few forests which existed were populated with arctic birches. Only a few square miles of these old forests remain today, known as Kjarr – the Icelandic Birch Forests, where even ancient trees are only a few meters tall.).

Even where there are grasslands which are grazed, the scenes can be stunning. Especially during this transitional period between seasons.

To the tourist, and even the science minded who loves some ecotourism, the landscape and nature in Iceland is nothing but magnificent – – so unique, that few places on our planet can offer such an experience. Few words can capture the beauty and grandeur of nature here.

Perhaps the nicest outdoor bathroom in the world, sits near a tourist site. Good design is everywhere in Iceland.

Any trip to Iceland will undoubtedly include a tour around the ‘Golden Circle’, a popular tourist track which can take you around a few of the islands’  impressive natural wonders, but journey beyond the route, and one can really experience remote beauty. This is what I love about Iceland – it can be so remote, that an electric light, another car or even a gas station might not be seen for a hundred miles (worth noting, when it comes to gas!).

Beyond the ring road of highway 1, remoteness exists, requiring a 4×4 or even a more off-road vehicle with special tires. Our 4×4 was just a commercial rental, and we had to stop on this road near an ice cap, once we found another car stuck on a snow bank, which we helped lift and re-establish itself. They had to proceed forward, due to the incline being too icy to reverse, but we decided to turn around ( 60 miles from the nearest highway, it seemed like the smart thing to do).

I wish I still had my Land Rover 110, but here in Iceland, this is what one needs to rent – complete with a snorkel, and the strong suggestion to travel with at least one other vehicle in the remote areas. – note the thermal steam rising in the background here from a fissure.

Greenhouses are big in Iceland, all heated by geothermal energy and electricity, they allow Icelanders to raise tomatoes, cucumbers and even melons. This one focused on crops of lettuce. That said, fresh veggies were hard to find in most markets .

Behind the greenhouse, a huge pile of discarded lettuce root balls – not sure if this was a proper compost pile, or just trash – most of the debris here seemed to be peat based plugs discarded from hydroponic culture.

Sheep, which spend most of their winter indoors, re-appear in fields and meadows beginning in April. Over-grazing is a real problem in Iceland, as is hay production.

Some of these ecological challenges are being reversed though through re-introduction of native species and some controls on grazing. IT may be impossible to reverse the introduced species which are more aggressive such as the ironically iconic and lovely blue lupines so often featured in promotional images on travel sites and blogs. The lupine was introduced with good intent, in an effort to keep the overgrazed and baren volcanic soils from eroding, and in many instances they have achieved what they were introduced to do, but reversing this invasive plant which has seeded most everywhere, has been difficult.

Roads in Iceland are graded by whether they are paved or not. Most that venture inland, and into the highlands are either gravel, or just mud, requiring both large off-road wheels and vehicles. We had to help lift a 4×4 off of a snow ridge, which had become stuck – surprisingly, the drivers were tourists from Rhode Island.

The tundra is a landscape where the long, cold winter and short, cool summers of the arctic climate makes tree growth impossible. There are still vast areas of tundra in northern Iceland, but as you can see by these fences, grazing areas for sheep still exist, although the government is restricting more areas from the damaging effects of grazing.

Black Crow Berries, Empetrum nigrum are common food source for wildlife in the summer months. Berries have low moisture and higher protein, so some can last through the harsh winter, becoming a valuable food source for wildlife.

We drove along the western coast of Iceland, through the many fjords and inlets, to the northern city of Akureyi where we made basecamp in a nice AirBNB. From here, we took day trips to destinations ranging from magnificent waterfalls and a geyser to the Icelandic Winter Games, where we took in some Arctic Circle skiing and even a snow mobile rally.

A flock of Whooper swan (Cygnus cygnus), the Eurasian counterpart of the North American trumpeter swan, arrived for a summer of breeding in what is the most western part of their breeding zone which extends across sub-arctic Northern Europe.  They are considered to be one of the heaviest of the flying birds.

The farms however, are few and far between. Each, so attractive with their colored roofs, and old homes. We were lucky I think, to be here just after a late snowfall.

On the western coast, what appears to be icebergs are long stretches of land on either side of fjords, which stretch out into the sea. Their color was magnificent, and we were able to see them a different times of the day.

On the evening returning to Reykjavik, the same range transformed into a magical vista, reminiscent of another planet.

Frost lifts many of the grassy fields in what is known here as Pufa, or frost heaves. We’ve seen the same phenomenon in Switzerland as well. It makes walking difficult, and farmers hate it, as it can make a hay field un-mowable.

Massive glacial valleys in the north of Iceland were so impressive. Look – not a single house, nor an electrical pylon in view. This is what our planet must have looked like thousands of years ago.

All in all, the landscape here is stunning if not epic when it comes to beauty and natural wonders. Geysers, magnificent waterfalls, massive canyons, and rare geological formations ranging from basalt towers to deep fissures make Iceland like no other place on earth. Add in ice sheets, huge glaciers and some of the cleanest water and air in the world, and one can see why Iceland is so popular.

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A limestone urn with a brilliant, giant bromeliad, Aechema blanchetiana, of which there are many named varieties, each grown for it ability to develop a strong, coral color in the bright, tropical sunshine.

Last weekend I had the opportunity to take a couple of days ‘off’ in Miami, Florida,and while not a vacation, I can’t lie and say that it was all work. The truth is, I was invited along with 5 other bloggers by Troy Bilt, to help create a community garden as part of their involvement with the Keep America Beautiful program, of which they ( and Lowes)  are a corporate affiliate of, as both corporations are sponsoring partners. The two and a half days were filled with tours, product updates, dinners and some fun, but mostly we all worked on planning this community garden, a venture which somehow all connected once I discovered the amazing connections which exist between Vizcaya, Florida’s agricultural history, and with some incredible people who we met at our Keep America Beautiful project. In the end, it’s all just another story about America, about it’s many connections between people and a crossroad of cultures.

Read more, please click below:

Built between 1914 and 1917, Vizcaya Palace was the home of James Deering, an American industrialist who founded the tractor company today known as International Harvester, but who also created an Italian Renaissance villa worthy of any Tuscan hillside or Venetian sea side. All this, on the edge of Biscayne Bay.

Troy Bilt was kind enough to fly our entire Saturday 6 crew to Miami to help create and plant a new community garden in Perrine, Florida, a community just north of Miami.  It was great to see my now good friends, the Saturday 6’ers,  (who each happen to be six influential garden bloggers, garden authors and designers), and we all were looking forward to spending a couple of days, Thursday and Friday together.  Somehow they new that we all would enjoy having a day off before working on the project, so we spent Thursday touring the luxurious grounds of the Vizcaya Museum and Gardens in Coconut Grove, FL. A magnificent mansion and garden created by the late James Deering.

At first glance, one may think that this is a formal boxwood garden, but every plant here is a sub tropical plant.

One may make quick assumptions that both individuals were a bit eccentric, as both toured Europe collecting massive amounts of artworks,architectural relics, tapestries and furniture during the golden age of art collecting, but Deering wanted to keep a close hand on his project, as he did not have the art knowledge and connections that Mrs. Gardner did, so he careful selected the right people to manage the building of his home, and to help him collect. Oddly, he did not want a celebrated architect, even though he could afford the finest – according to Barbara Deering Danielson, Deering’s niece, her uncle often said he wanted an up and coming designer rather than one that was well known: “if some famous architect were my architect, the architect would build what he wanted and not what I want”. I think I can relate to that a bit ( just a bit).

John Deering (in a  portrait painted by Mr. Sargent). The artist and Deerings designer Chalfin had been friends along with Isabella Stewart Gardner. The early Deering tractors helped change the landscape and agriculture of South Florida in the early twentieth century. Mr. Sargent had painted both James Deering and his brother, Charles who had befriended Sargent in 1878, they remained life long friends.

Deering was used to getting his now way, and he definitely wanted to be a client who had, as Isabelle Stewart Gardner once put it “the fun of doing it himself”. In the end, I think we can thank both of these visionaries for their prudent control over such personal projects.

In Vizcaya, once can clearly see multiple influences that cam from the many trips that Deering and Chalfin made to Italy, from the Medici villas in Florence, to the island villas of lago Maggiore. But clearest of all, was what Edith Wharton called in her 1904 book Italian Villas and Their Gardens, “the most enchanting bits of sylvan gardening in Italy”, and that wasVenice, and everything Venetian. Venice is where both Mrs. Gardner and Mr. Deering zig instead of zag, for as most every architect hired by the wealthy referenced Rome, these two looked at the high, Dolomitic Alps, their secret Villas in the lakes regions and Venice, with its baroque architecture and Byzantine structures. In the end. both Mrs. Gardner’s home and Mr. Deering’s feel as if one woke up in Venice.

Tropical planting within an Italianate architectural scheme make Viscaya unique. This giant landscape bromeliad, Portea petropolitana ‘Jungles’ is a hybrid Portea with tall, colorful racemes worthy of any English border.

What makes Mr. Deering’s Vizcaya even more special, is that it uses sub tropical plant material in a South Florida setting, all composed in a classical Italian and French design. Paul Chalfin helped Deering make most every design decision, even directing landscape architect Diego Suarez with details such as light, vistas and plant material. The garden may use classic archetype as a skeleton, but the real bones are very Florida – coral, native rock and limestone. Deering wanted to maximize the use of native plant material, although one must wonder what options they would have had given the site. The use of sub tropical plants, many new to American horticulture at the time, are indeed what defined a new approach to estates in tropical climates.

Aside from the grandeur and beauty of Vizcaya, I discovered that this is far more a story about the future of Florida, than just a talk about a rich man and his folly’s.  The Deering tractor,  and his family’s role and influence on South Florida agriculture became the real focus of my research. I was surprised to discover that the Deering McCormick tractor became the pivotal tool in the early success of Florida agriculture, an industry that connected directly to not only Troy Bilt ( originally and tiller company) but even to an nice, 80 year old lady who I met while planting the community garden, as she worked as a farm laborer in the 1940’s on land made growable by the early Deering McCormic Tractors.

Near Hastings Florda, Cabbage, potatoes and Gladiolus could be grown for the new truck market, with produce being shipped to northern cities via train and truck year round, all thanks to the Farm-all Deering McCormick tractor. The community of Perrine thus became the epicenter for crop workers, near Miami it sat on land once known as the Perrine Grant. Learn about Dr. Perrine, his link to most of the crops now grown in South Florida, and about Ms. Townsend and her early years working in the gladiolus fields of Hastings, Florida.

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The 14, 000 ft. summit of Colorado’s Mount Evans can be reached easily by car, it is America’s highest paved road.

 We visited two different alpine areas in the Denver area, each only an hours drive from the city. This images are from the Mount Evans summit drive, ( later, we drove up to Jones Pass, a mountain Pass known for its summer wildflowers. I’ll post that hike on a different post). The Tatroe’s kept reminding me that last year, the wild flowers were spectacular, most likely due to a heavy snowfall, but this year, the display was less than prolific, and even the spring display at snow melt was one of the worst in years. Still, we were lucky enough to find plants in bloom, even in August.

Mountain Goats are often found at the Summit Parking Lot on Mount Evans in Colorado. These were shedding their old coat, and were found rubbing again rocks trying to scratch off the itchy coat. Can you believe that I took this with my Nikon D200? I could almost touch him, I was so close. Well, I really just wanted to brush him.

A Baby Mountain Goat Follows its Mother. Goaty cuteness at 14K.

Rocky Mountain Big Horn Sheep are commonly found along the mountain road, on the way to, or at the summit of  Mount Evans.

Campanula parryi ( I am guessing due to it’s short height). It is commonly confused with the Common Harebell, but as I have not keyed this out, this is only a guess based on the linear basal leaves. (C. rotundifolia has rounded basal leaves). Despite these differences, the two species are difficult to tell apart in the field.

Rhodiola rodantha – The Redpod Stonecrop or Kings Crown,  growing in a wet meadow near 10,000 ft.

Ancient Bristlecone Pine trees ( Pinus aristata) on Mount Evans

 Any visit to Mount Evans should include a stop at the Mount Goliath Natural Area, an area which is a boundary between the sub-alpine forest and the tundra found at the top of Mount Evans. A grove of Bristlecone Pines which are nearly 1700 years old can be found at the interpretive ranger station. I’ve never seen Bristlecone Pines before, aside from my Viewmaster disks as a kid. Found only in the Southern Rockies and in California ( where some trees are 3000 years old), these trees are the oldest living things on earth.

A few interesting facts about Bristlecones – the needles can live 20 years, a strategy which aids in their survival since the long lived needles provide a stable photosynthetic capacity to help sustain the tree over many years of severe stress.

Many Bristlecone Pines have damaged trunks, bare with little bark, damage caused by lightning strikes of forest fires, but even a tiny strip of bark can sustain a tree for hundreds if not thousands of years.

Gentiana parryi, the Mountain Gentian growing in a sub-alpine meadow. Thanks to the nineteenth century botanist Charles Parry, three plants that I found now bear his name. Gentiana parryi, Primula parryi and Campanula parryi.

Gentiana parryi in a mountain meadow on Colorado’s Mount Evans

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A yellow Primula auricula, growing on the upper slopes of the Eiger, in a damp snow run-off with Ranunculus glacialis. This trip brought us many meadows of this early blooming primrose, and we were very lucky, both because of it being late this season, and because we simply found the populations.

 A light pink form of Primula hirsuta, or it may be a natural cross of P. hirsuta and P. daoensis . Photographed this in the high crocus meadows of First, Bearnese Oberland..

A primula farinosa caught in an early summer snow in the alps.

Variations in a population of Primula farinosa on the slopes of the Eiger, near 9,000 ft , growing with many P. auricula and Ranunculus glacialis. Sorry for the irregular type, but I am posting this post live from my iPad.

An impressive yellow P. auricula, the parent of the many fancy auricula primroses we sometimes see in England. In the back, Dryas octopetala and a melting glacier. Nearing the top of the Eiger.

A tiny farinose primula growing in a population near the North Face of the Eiger.

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Ahhh, fraises, so fresh. If only our strawberries tasted like these. My attempt at a calendar cliche.

Today we made a big decision – one which is decidedly quite un-American, ( in reference to those who travel from the states and plan on visiting 8 cities and 12 destinations in Europe in 7 days). We just cant’ bear to leave this solitude in Murren, so I am calling ahead to Zermatt and cancelling our second week there. We have decide to stay, and act as if we live here. We will do our laundry in the little launderett, eat more cheese, and be sure to do our grocery shopping at the single store before it closes for the day at 4:00 PM. For the rest of the time here? We shall enjoy the quiet, the fact that there are no cars, few people and basically, just the sound of a few goat bells to wake us in the morning.


Then, naturally, there is the scenery.


We love Mürren, perched high on a cliff above the post card lovely valley of Lauterbrunnen, which is pretty nice itself, but this? This is the most beautiful place I have ever been on our planet ( so far!). Last night, as we watched the full moon rise over these magnificent mountains ( not a single light in a home or on a street in sight), we were commenting on how many people we met, especially how few Americans, who are either on one or two week tours traveling through Europe with their families. One such family we met two days ago, but they rarely left their lodge – where they sat with focused on answering email and playing games on their  iPads.  They had just arrive, and I was surprised at how bored the children were, as well as the parents. All the talked about as they tapped a swiped away on their devices, was about what cities they had been to over the past week. Dad sais “a half day at Cologne, a half day in Amsterdam, a half day in Paris – then we can go home”.  Sad. 


We are experienced enough, to have planned only two towns for our week and a half venture, but now, instead of moving on to the more commercial and touristy town of Zermatt, we decided to cancel our reservations ( at a price, I must admit!), and to remain here in Mürren until next week. Why not. We have everything we need. Wine, cheese and wildflowers.

The hotels are quite old in Murren, most are build before 1890 such as this one. I find it interesting that even at this out-of-the-way location, that the village was a destination, even a century ago. How did they ever get those trunks up here? I later learned that on these slopes in Murren, Skiing was popular even in the 1880’s.

 The view across from Mürren is spectacular when viewed from a few thousand feet higher, as we hike down from the summit of the Piz Gloria.

 I was noticing a number of residences near the nicer edge of the gorge, near the end of the canyon. This remote village has such incredible views, yet it is still completely rural and unruined. Sure, we met some local kids smoking pot, they told us that their parents worked at the to summit house high on the Schiltorn, and that one boys father worked the funicular, but aside from the shock that he was dressed all hip hop style, I asked him if he felt fortunate to live here. He responded ” Oh yes, we know there is not place like this on earth”. But he later shared that he dreamed to move away and to work as a street repairman in Interlaken – where there is a nightlife.

Most of the homes on the outskirts of the Murren meadows that we passed through were four season homes. Fire wood was neatly stacked into beautiful arrays of patterned stacks, and the fields were cleared for grazing, most where scythed by hand, and the hay stacked on posts to dry. This is farmland for the local people, and most worked outdoors in their fields. Most notably, it is silent here. One could hear a nightingale across the valley, and just he sound of a distant waterfall a mile away. There are no sounds of cars, or jets, no campers, no distant highways or grumbling motorcycles such as one often hears in the Italian Dolomites. If this was America, forget about it. And if this was a National Park, we would be surrounded by campers and people.  Here, in this massive canyon in Switzerland, we were the only hikers on these paths, and all we could hear were cow bells. Sure, in the winter, it may be a crowded ski village, but for most of the summer, it is heaven on Earth.

 Wood, neatly cut and stored under the eaves of home. Each home has a different collection of wood.

 Even this elderly couple made a tasteful, homey display ( the papa was just off to the left, sitting enjoying his beer on this sunny Sunday).

As we wandered further back towards the village of Murren, we passed through many meadows with cow gates like this. One is expected to simply close the gate as one passed through.

After the last funicular leaves for Lauterbrunen,  town of Mürren becomes silent.As there are no cars besides a local resident’s old mini truck, and one stationwagon, all one hears are horses, goats and cows. In early summer, there are few tourists who spend the night. These cliffs below the town of Murren are very popular with base jumpers, ( I heard it was one of the top base jumping sites in the world) which also makes the tiny village of Mürren more ‘young’, in spirit. Mürren sits in a very scenic location –  facing the Monch and the Eiger’s snowy glaciers and waterfalls. Botanically, the mountains around Murren are site zero for many high alpine plants, especially primula species, androsace and other alpine plants.  

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Any idea what this is? Please share.

A common farinose type of primula, one of the bird’s eye primroses, growing near 6000 feet in an alpine meadow, which is more well known for its winter use as the location of the famous Inferno Ski Race, a ten mile 7100  foot plunge into the village of Lauterbrunnen below. Behind the primroses, you can see the great trio of mountains, the Eiger, Monch and the Jungfrau. More on some of the primroses seen on this trip, tomorrow.

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Androsace helvetica, a rare high elevation alpine plant related to the primula, growing near the summit of the Schilthorn, in the Bernese Alps of Switzerland.

Anrdrosace helvetica, Primulaceae just below the summit of Pix Gloria

Another high elevation plant, Saxifraga . There are 26 species in Switzerland, so without a book to key this out, I am guessing that it is Saxifraga oppositifolia.

Another Androsace helvetica, growing under a rock in a tight crevice. These plants know exactly where to grow, where the rocks protect them from moisture and Ibex hooves.

A detail of a Saxifraga oppositifolia

At this elevation, the Ranunculus glacialis is just beginning to bloom, whereas a few hundred feet below us, we can see large clumps in full bloom.

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