Behind us stands the abandoned Boval hut. In summer, it is a meeting point for hikers and mountaineers exploring the glacier world of the Engadin, but now it is hibernating in the fall. It lies abandoned on the small plateau, high above the masses of ice that creep down into the valley far below us at an invisible speed. No everyday sounds, no voices or traffic noise spoil this moment, which we enjoy here all to ourselves. However, the view from the Bovalhütte has to be earned first.
We are actually early risers and like to set off in the early hours of the morning so that we can put our feet up again in the early afternoon. In the high mountains in autumn, however, the clocks beat to their own beat and sometimes you need a little patience. For example, waiting for the sun to finally rise high enough for the first rays of sunshine to reach the valley floor of Val Morteratsch so that we don't have to start our planned tour in frosty temperatures.
It's fall in the Engadin. The larches are glowing like gilded Christmas trees and the peaks are already lightly sugared. A few days ago there was the first snowfall up there at higher altitudes. However, the white flakes have not yet made it to the Bovalhütte and we are looking forward to this autumnal trail run.
A little out of breath, I hold the flat of my hand over my eyes like a parasol. On this autumn day, the sun is so low over the Morteratsch glacier and the Bellavista that I can barely make out anything of the world of rock and ice that stretches out before me and rises up into the sky. Piz Palü, Piz Zupo, Crast' Agüzza and, of course, the famous Biancograt. The majestic Grisons giants line the arena around the landscape of the Morteratsch Glacier and the view seems timeless. Yet this view changes at breakneck speed.
I look wistfully at the ice, which is no longer so eternal, but rather rapidly disappearing. Now that the hot summer is over and the first snow has not yet fallen, the crevasses lie bare in the autumn sun. They gape like open wounds in the ice and expose the vulnerability of this icy giant. The sides are lined with rubble and debris that takes up more and more space, while the warm temperatures at the edges of the glacier eat away centimetre by centimetre. This landscape is so beautiful, so vast and overwhelming and yet so fragile that it is hard to imagine as a small human being.
Around 15,000 years ago, the last ice age ended in our latitudes and with it began the slow, but now increasingly rapid retreat of the Morteratsch Glacier. Much has changed since around 1860, when the glacier tongue still extended roughly as far as the present Morteratsch railroad station. The glacier's ice masses have not only decreased in length, but also in thickness, and the rate of retreat is increasing with each passing year. To date, the Morteratsch Glacier has already lost around two thirds of its original volume. According to studies by the University of Fribourg, a further decline is unstoppable even if our climate develops favorably (which is not necessarily to be expected). Even a scientific study that examined artificial snowmaking on the glacier came to the conclusion that the decline could not be stopped even with this measure.
Falko has taken some photos around the hut and joins me on the hut terrace. I can tell that the sight is also moving for him. We spent our first summer vacation together here 15 years ago and I gained my first experience of mountaineering. And we came back again and again, each time with the same result: we had to walk a little further to reach the glacier tongue. But just as we can't stop this process, we can't stay here forever. Suddenly I realize how cold I actually am. The autumn sun is not enough to dry my shirt and a cold shiver runs down my spine. One more layer of fleece and a muesli bar later, we set off on the way back. We head back towards the Hotel Morteratsch via the partly flowing, partly somewhat blocked hut path. Where herbaceous plants and low dwarf shrubs line the edges of the path further up, the Swiss stone pines and golden larches greet us further down. The air above the sandy ground has warmed up a little thanks to the sun and we jog the last hundred meters through the striking iron glacier gate back to our starting point at Morteratsch station.
The landscape in Val Morteratsch resembles a history book, a status report and a glimpse into the future all at the same time. Just as climate change often remains hidden in our everyday lives, it is almost impossible to ignore the consequences of this development here. I am glad to be able to experience this natural wonder in this intensity. We will probably not be able to save the Morteratsch glacier completely, but I am convinced that each of us can contribute to the direction in which our world will develop through our own actions.
