The Swiss Alps. Kev Reynolds
(preferring acid soils, but equally at home among limestone), from open woods to the edge of screes.
No alpine flower is more fragrant than the daphne, whose delicate perfume is often detected before the actual plant is seen. The bright pink, low-growing Daphne cneorum and taller, woody-stemmed D. mezereum are both lime-loving plants, while the straggly D. striata is also found among crystalline rocks.
If one mountain flower could be said to represent the Alps it would have to be the edelweiss (Leontopodium alpinum), its woolly grey-white bracts creating a distinctive star-shaped head on a slender stem. Growing in clusters, and favouring limestone and schist, it can be found in rocky places up to 3400m, but is equally at home on meadows as low as 1700m.
Much more showy than the edelweiss, the moss campion (Silene acaulis) forms a dense cushion of minute leaves out of which a mass of pink to bright red flowers appear. The white Swiss rock jasmine (Androsace helvetica) also produces a tight cushion which may grow to 15cm across. It grows on limestone, on rocky ridges and screes up to 3500m and comes into flower between May and August, while A. alpina, the alpine rock jasmine has a mat of white flowers blending to a bluey-pink flush. This is found among granite rocks and screes and has been discovered at a little over 4000m.
Thriving among dry moraines, damp streamsides, screes and rocky places, the lovely white glacier crowfoot (Ranunculus glacialis) holds the record for Europe’s highest growing plant, while the azure blue King of the Alps (Eritrichium nanum) survives up to 3600m on acid rocks. This beautiful little plant forms a low, dense cushion of flower heads reminiscent of the dwarf forget-me-not, and is treasured by all who find it.
ILLUSTRATED GUIDES TO ALPINE FLORA
Two long-established and richly illustrated guides to mountain flowers that would aid identification are:
Mountain Flowers in Colour by Anthony Huxley, with illustrations by Daphne Barry and Mary Grierson (Blandford Press, 1967)
The Alpine Flowers of Britain and Europe by Christopher Grey-Wilson with colour illustrations by Marjorie Blamey (Collins, 1979)
Sporting large knobbly horns, a male ibex crops the short grass of an alp
The ubiquitous marmot, at home in almost every alpine valley
A small herd of chamois caught grazing at Busenalp (Photo: Linda Reynolds)
Alpine fauna
Of all alpine mammals the most endearing is the ubiquitous marmot that is seen in practically every district of the Alps, often enjoying the warm sunshine. A sociable furry rodent, the marmot lives in colonies among a range of habitats below the permanent snowline, with burrows excavated in pastures, among rock debris and even alongside busy trails. Growing to the size of a large hare, and weighing as much as 10kg, the marmot spends five or six months of the year in winter hibernation, emerging lean and scruffy in springtime, but soon growing healthy on the summer grasses. The famous shrill whistling sound, given as a warning of danger, is emitted from the back of its throat by an alert adult sitting up on its haunches. Prey to fox and eagle, by September the marmot has accumulated large reserves of fat and begins to prepare its ‘nest’ for the coming winter with a bed of dried grasses; then comes October and it settles into deep hibernation once more.
Chamois are members of the antelope family, characteristically shy of human contact and symbolic of the alpine regions. With short sickle-shaped horns, a white lower jaw and a dark reddish-brown coat in summer bearing a black stripe along the spine, the chamois is fleet-footed and agile. An incomparable sense of smell and acute hearing make them difficult to approach, but when surprised they make a sharp wheezing snort of a warning. During the winter the chamois spends most of the time in forests; the weakest members of a herd often perish, while others are killed by avalanche. As the snows recede, they return to higher altitudes; in May and June moulting takes place, with tufts of hair snagging on rocks and high shrubs, and during the summer months they prefer cool north-facing slopes and snowfields to warm sunny areas.
Much stockier than the chamois, the ibex has adapted perfectly to its hostile environment and can scale the steepest of cliffs with apparent ease. The adult male sports large, knobbly, scimitar-shaped horns and a short stub of beard, while the female could almost be mistaken for a goat with its smaller, less impressive horns and a grey or coffee-coloured coat. Males spend most of the year well away from the females, which inhabit lower regions, and they only come together for the brief mating season.
By contrast the shiny black alpine salamander is a curious newt-like amphibious creature that has adapted to the alpine environment by searching out the most humid areas and remaining concealed during dry weather, but emerging – often in large numbers – during or immediately after heavy showers of rain. It is more often seen in the Oberland than in the drier ranges of the Pennine or Lepontine Alps.
The dainty roe deer inhabits mostly low wooded areas and has a surprisingly raucous bark out of all proportion to its graceful appearance. The red deer stag, on the other hand, has a bellow to match its stately size, and during the autumn rut the forests and open glades echo to the sound. Both red and roe deer have highly developed senses of hearing, sight and smell, and spend most of the daylight hours hidden among the trees, emerging at daybreak and in the evening to graze meadows.
Red squirrels can often be seen scampering among larch, fir and pinewoods, their almost black coat and tufted ears being recognisable features. Conifer woods are also home to the nutcracker whose alarm cry of ‘kre kre kre’ makes it a rival to the jay as the policeman of the woods. It has a large head, strong beak, tawny speckled breast and a distinctive swooping flight, and is noted for breaking open pine cones in order to free the fatty seeds which it hides to feed on in winter.
The alpine chough is one of the commonest birds likely to be met in the Swiss Alps. The unmistakable yellow beak and coral-red feet mark it out from other members of the crow family, and they will often appear to scavenge leftovers of picnic food, perch on rocky summits and gather near mountain huts.
Practically all these creatures, and many more, can be seen in their natural habitats in the Swiss National Park in the Lower Engadine (see 4:5).
Environmental Ethics
Mountains are the ultimate symbols of wild nature, and mountaineering in its many forms both recognises and celebrates that wildness. But the growth of tourism and the sheer volume of walkers, climbers and skiers who flock to the Alps in summer and winter alike threaten to reduce and destroy the very wildness that is its primary attraction. Mountains are not eternal and unchanging; they’re fragile, with ecosystems endangered by pollution, climate change and overuse. We who love the Alps are a major part of the problem.
The unchanging way of life of an Alpine farmer
The ugly rash of ski tows and cable lifts that transport tens of thousands of downhill skiers in winter remain throughout the summer as unwelcome intrusions on snow-free slopes that often bear the scars of bulldozed pistes. On the other hand, snowshoeing, cross-country skiing and ski touring/ski mountaineering have no reliance on such mechanical aids, and make little or no impact on the environment.
Summer mountaineering is supported by a network of huts, by cable cars and funiculars that enable climbers, trekkers and walkers to gain height without physical effort; thus saving themselves both time and energy. Thousands of kilometres of trails wind across the hillsides, marked by splashes of paint or led by cairns; bolts and fixed anchors are applied to chalk-daubed crags; stairways of rungs, ladders and footplates scale rock faces in a rash of enthusiasm for via ferrata thrills; rescue helicopters and those that supply huts disturb the silence of the skies. All these are part of the infrastructure we’ve come to accept and rely on, yet