Saturday 6th September 2025 • Promotional Content


of drama. “T e glacier never stops being beautiful,” says Daniela. “And when the tourists leave and we have it all to ourselves? Well, that’s the best part of the day.” T e meltwater from Aletsch and


other glaciers in Jungfrau feeds Trümmelbach, one of 72 waterfalls in Lauterbrunnen, fi ve miles north west, which I reach aboard yet another scenic and extremely punctual cogwheel train. T e valley’s name is variously translated either as ‘many springs’ or ‘loud springs’, and Trümmelbach is by far the noisiest, carrying up to 20,000 litres of water per second. It largely falls inside a cavern concealed within a vertical rockface, but a series of tunnels, paths and platforms allows visitors to ascend its height. T e experience is a sensory


onslaught. T ough the mountain itself seems to shudder with the eff ort of containment, and the cliff s and crevices the waterfall forces its way past have been worn smooth by centuries of pummelling, Trümmelbach’s mist on my face feels as gentle as a kiss.


A river runs through it After exploring the mountains of Jungfrau, I move on to my fi nal stop: the city of Bern. From Interlaken, my train skirts the shores of Lake T un, then makes its way northwest, loosely following the course of the River Aare, which continually commands passengers’ attention through the carriage windows. I get tantalising glimpses of its strong current and extraordinary milky turquoise colour, caused by ‘rock fl our’ — the fi ne particles of pulverised rock found in glacier meltwater, which absorb and scatter light. It’s a warm, sunny day and, every now and then, I spot someone


leaping in. By the time I reach the Swiss capital an hour later, I’m longing to do exactly that. I wander the cobbled, fl ag-strewn


streets of Bern’s medieval centre, but every sight seems to direct me back towards the river. In Münsterplatz, opposite the city’s cathedral, a gold face on a 16th-century fountain spurts jets of water. At another church, Nydeggkirche, the roof tiles are an exact colour match for the Aare’s inviting blue green. When Bern’s clocktower strikes noon, I’m unable to resist the call of the river any longer and descend the backstreets to its shores — only to fi nd that most of the city’s inhabitants are already here. “In summer, we live our whole


lives on the Aare,” says student Uma Bintti, who I encounter as she’s about to jump off Schönausteg, a footbridge that doubles as a diving platform during the city’s hotter months. Around us, people are joyfully


leaping into the water. “Some locals use the river to get to work,” Uma’s equally cheerful friend Djami Stram chips in. “T ey put all their stuff in a dry bag and fl oat all the way to their offi ce.” As I don’t have an Aarebäg, as they’re known locally, the pair suggest I stash my stuff at the Marzili Lido downstream, where there are lockers. “But we just drape a towel over our bags. T at’s Marzili security!” jokes Uma.


“Some locals use


the river to get to work. T ey put all their stuff in a dry bag and fl oat all the way to their offi ce”


“Bern is a really safe city.” Walking the tree-shaded


footpath parallel with the river, it’s clear the Aare is Bern’s lifeblood. I pass a beach volleyball court in full session; appealing waterside cafes like Altes Tramdepot, where people are enjoying al fresco lunches or iced coff ee; plus picnickers, lolling on its grassy banks. “In summer, we live slow — like the river,” says Nelson Barroso, who’s sitting on the shore while his friend Esther Himbaza wades in the shallows. “I enjoy the Aare’s calming energy,” she adds. Finally, it’s my turn to experience


its rejuvenating powers fi rst-hand. Returning to the Schönausteg footbridge after leaving my clothes, I fl ing myself into the water without a moment’s hesitation. While briefl y submerged, I hear stones shifting on the riverbed, then pop to the surface to join the other human pooh sticks. T ough travelling at what feels like an exhilarating speed, I’m nevertheless overtaken by a man on a paddleboard and a dog wearing a life jacket. T ough the experience isn’t unlike riding a waterpark’s ‘lazy river’, the refreshing temperature reminds me this is no simulacrum, but the real thing — miss the Marzili Lido’s ‘last exit’ sign and, eventually, I’d end up all the way at the river’s mouth on the Rhine. Emerging from the water by the


Swiss Parliament building feels symbolic — even in the middle of the capital, nature takes centre stage.


T is article features in the October 2025 issue of National Geographic Traveller (UK). Buy in store now or discover exclusive subscription off ers at nationalgeographic.com/ travel


T e Travel Guide


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ERICH AND DANIELA AT THE OBSERVATORY ON TOP OF THE JUNGFRAUJOCH/KEVIN FAINGNAERT


MOUNTAIN VIEW DURING THE WALK FROM EIGERGLETSCHER TO KLEINE SCHEIDEGG/KEVIN FAINGNAERT


PEOPLE SWIMMING IN THE AARE RIVER IN BERN/KEVIN FAINGNAERT


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