In which we go a-splashing in the Swiss Alps (Lago Maggiore part II).

The next grand adventure brought us across the border to the Valle Verzasca, described in tour books as an emerald green valley high in the mountains, dotted with centuries-old stone villages. We awoke to sunny skies, packed some snacks, hopped in the car, cranked the radio, and drove the few short minutes to the border, where the Swiss agent made sure we didn’t have any goods to sell and let us on our way. The road took us up and around the lake, eventually turning and winding up and into the valley through tunnels and turns that were tight but much more generous than those coming out of Pino. Our first stop was at the Contra Dam on the Lago di Vogorno made famous by James Bond in GoldenEye and many other films. There I saw someone bungee jump for the first time, and thought I was going to have a heart attack as the woman plunged down 220 meters, diving with an urmenschlike shriek. She made it back up though, as did the next person and assumedly the next person and the next and the next.

From there we continued on up the winding road, twixt green mountainsides and old, dark stone villages, then eventually parked the car and climbed down into a magical, overgrown grove to a mountain stream. The water was both clear and teal, and rushed and rippled over stripy, sparkling gneiss stones. Jana, hardcorest of them all, who had been there before and looked forward to the adrenaline rush that came with immersing oneself in that barely liquid water, dove right in. Steven and I took more convincing, and -- oh holy frozen mother -- was that cold. We all made it in though, dipped ourselves in the calm pools next to the current, and then swam across the stream to laze on the curved boulders on the other side. The sun chose our most exposed moments to take a hike, so it was a little chillier than we’d hoped, and when the raindrops started splatting we decided it was time to pack up and continue our journey up the road.

Luckily the rain got distracted elsewhere, and we were free to continue our adventure without any additional wetness. The sun and wooshing convertible wind dried our hair in funny shapes, but there weren’t many people to comment as we walked around sleepy villages, like here in Frasco.

(This one taken by Steven:)

Our last stop was in Sonogno, where we wandered out of the village to a tall, splooshy Froda Waterfall, where some neighboring goats were munching and snoozing on a cliff ledge. More wading in c-c-cold, crystal clear water.

We were tired by the end, so drove the hour back around the lake and over the border to Pino with the top down, blasting the objectively bad pop music on the Swiss or Italian radio station. That evening we coated ourselves in bug spray and took the makings for Aperol Spritzes to the highest spot in the village, in front of the church, to watch evening fall over the lake and the first stars come out. A little black cat joined us and decided to be my friend after carefully checking to make sure I didn't have fleas.

A splendid day followed by a splendid night and many splendid days come.