Up the switchbacks and through the giant metal tunnel of echoes long lost to the roar of falling water. A sweet smell of fresh mist fills the tunnel air like a clean rain after too many days without. You slowly walk on, careful not to slip as you look everywhere but the shiny uneven ground.
The tunnel ends, beginning a floor of slick rock and a base of clanking spiral stairs. Concentrating on the ground this time, you balance yourself with both hands outstretched to the cool rocky walls. Becoming vaguely aware of the thinning air with each surprisingly steep step, you noisily clank your way to the top. Just past the final step, there’s an opening to the left. Barely remembering to keep stable you walk towards it, completely drawn to the light.
Looking out, you see it. Raining down over your newfound window in the rock is the waterfall. The top eludes your vision leaving only questions as to where it came from, why it awoke this morning. Cascading over deep crevasses in ancient rock, the crashing Swiss water dusts the surrounding air and marks the mouth of a new white river below. You see the colors fade from white to a darkest blue, leveling off almost instantaneously.
On the left, through the rain, you spot tiny cottage-like homes and open pasture lawns singing a silent tune of simplicity and contentment. And on the right, glorious Alps of light grey rock peppered with dark green trees, whitening in the distance.
The sheer magnitude of the waterfall remains, though the volume of its sound along with everything around it seems to fade. All worry, all trade, all past necessities fall to the wayside with each wave of rushing water, dispersing with the mist. Peace.
The gravity of the scene is almost overwhelming. To be here, on this day, out in the open, blissful and without a care in the world, you wonder why you hadn’t come here before. Why you hadn’t left it all for the sweet simplicity of natural enchantments, of elemental serenity. You hope you’ll be able to come back someday.