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Peter picks up a shovel. “Lie down over there,” he says, pointing to a patch of virgin snow. I do as I’m told, staring up into a sky that’s as white as the ground on which I’m lying, a sharp wind zipping off the tops of unseen mountains.
“Stretch your arms and legs as wide as you can,” he says, taking the shovel and marking a wide circle around me. “OK. This is where you’ll be sleeping tonight.”
As a qualified Swiss mountain guide, Peter Von Känel is used to extreme expeditions, from off-piste ski tours to vertiginous ice climbs. For him, today’s task of building an igloo next to the quiet ski slopes above his home town of Adelboden in the Swiss Alps is tame. But for me, this is about as hardcore as it gets.
It’s 25 years since I last snow ploughed down a green run on a school skiing trip. Keen for an Alpine adventure that doesn’t involve hurtling down a mountain, I’ve turned to Much Better Adventures for inspiration. The British-based tour operator offers a build your own igloo experience, one of its “epic weekends” aimed at maximising time off work. From the comfort of my warm office, it seemed like a great idea. Now, with my view a hazy, indistinguishable white and the temperature dropping to -10C, it feels like absolute folly.
Peter, who works with Much Better Adventures’ partners at the Adelboden Alpine School, is the best person to have around. Having loaded up a sledge with saws, shovels, triple-thickness sleeping bags and what appears to be a bottle of white wine, he has led us to this spot a short cable car ride from the valley. A small, piste-side hotel and the occasional skier are the only signs of life. Back on my feet, Peter hands me a shovel and tells me to start digging a trench. It’s from here that we’ll be cutting the igloo’s bricks. It’s back-breaking work, but despite the sub-zero chill I’m soon working up a sweat. Peter shows me how to saw out bricks, explaining that it’s important to avoid snow that’s frozen solid so that they can be shaped more easily when the building begins.
After cutting out 50 bricks, Peter calls me over to help with construction. ‘It’s amazing how it stays together,’ he says, showing me the traditional Inuit techniques that have been transplanted to Switzerland. While I hold the last brick laid in place, the whole thing stays sturdy, Peter ensuring the bricks are cut to shape and meet the structure at just the right angle. I get back to sawing. Another 90 minutes somehow pass and I turn to see something that resembles a child’s drawing of an igloo.
There’s just one problem: There’s no way to get in. Peter immediately sets to work, burrowing a hole which will emerge into the igloo’s interior.
“It’s not how you imagine,” he says, his arms a blur as snow begins piling up around him. “A tunnel entrance just means the cold blows in. This way, it’ll be zero degrees inside, rather than -10C.”
After clearing the debris, Peter suggests we stop for a breather. He pulls out a Thermos of warm fruit punch and a lunchbox chock-full of local cheese and salami. The sun has finally broken through and I scan the silent peaks, spindrift floating off the summits. Peter smiles. “You can see why I didn’t move away from this place,” he says, turning full circle to take in the view.
The rest of the afternoon is spent getting the igloo ready for sleeping. Insulating it by throwing fresh snow over the bricks, scraping out the floor on the inside and widening the narrow entrance. By the time our work is done, the sun has slipped behind the peaks, the ski lifts have fallen silent and Venus is starting to blink in the darkening sky.
Peter helps me strap on snow shoes and we set out for a pre-dinner hike. He cuts out a path over rolling drifts as the belt of Orion appears and satellites zip above the horizon. The air is crisp and cool, the only sound the crunch of our shoes in the snow. Our appetites sufficiently bolstered, Peter leads us into an igloo which had been built a couple of weeks previously. He whips out some candles, a Primus stove and a bag full of fondue, tipping it into a saucepan and ordering me to stir while he cuts near-frozen bread. “This is the good stuff,” he says. “The cheese is from a farmer down in the village and makes the best fondue in Switzerland.”
I’m not inclined to disagree. After a hard day’s digging and building, nothing feels more comforting than melted cheese and a hunk of bread. It’s only then I remember the wine. Peter grins when I remind him, presenting a now frozen bottle of white from the Valais region. He pops it on the Primus to defrost and soon we’re sipping on wine slushies.
After such a convivial meal, the idea of bedding down in our own igloo seems less than appealing. Struggling through its burrow, head torch on, the cold of the night is impossible to ignore. But once trussed up in my sleeping bag, with extra socks and my down jacket bundled into a pillow, I slip into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Sure, I wake up a few times to find my toes are icy. And yes, condensation on my top blanket freezes overnight. But I emerge the following morning into a bright white world, the peaks once again hidden behind snow clouds. I strap on my boots and make for the hotel and the promise of hot coffee.
I look back to our temporary home with a huge smile on my face, the kind that only comes after a strenuous time spent in the high mountains.
Details: Switzerland
Joe Minihane travelled to Switzerland with Much Better Adventures on an “Epic Weekend”; prices start at £419 for two nights for a trip to the French Alps for the 2020 season; muchbetteradventures.com.
Rail Europe trains travel throughout the UK and Europe; raileurope.com
