A week of adventure in Switzerland.
Words & Images Justin Jamieson
A week of adventure in Switzerland.
Words & Images Justin Jamieson
I’ve spent many a night after arriving at far-flung destinations wide awake or days falling asleep into my lunch, but I’ve finally discovered the ultimate cure: a hot tub that floats.
That’s how I kick off my week in Switzerland — soaking in the bubbling warmth of a “HotTug” on Lake Brienz in Interlaken. The HotTug is 50% jacuzzi, 50% boat, and 100% ridiculous fun. It’s practically a steaming cauldron that drifts across the lake’s absurdly turquoise waters while you sip a beer and pretend to steer.
Is this the perfect cure for jet lag?
The scenery is so jaw-dropping, with snow-dusted peaks, emerald forests and the occasional swan, that it’s impossible to care about the zig-zag course I’m navigating. I am, however, slightly self-conscious as the Brienz Ferry cruises past, and a large group of Korean tourists snap pics of a giant bald Australian floating in a bath, while downing a Swiss lager (me). The main issue though, is that my jetlag is cured.
Lake Brienz is almost surreal from this height.
The next morning, I lace up my boots for a hike at Schynige Platte, a mountaintop wonderland that feels like stepping into the pages of a storybook. The cogwheel train to the top is an adventure in itself, climbing steep tracks with views that get better at every turn. On one such turn, I spot the engineer in the last carriage staring into the distance. Apparently, these are views you just never get sick of.
This guy loves his job.
One of the stations enroute to Schynige Platte.
Brew with a view.
When we finally reach the plateau, it’s an explosion of alpine magic with wildflowers, craggy peaks, and a skyline dominated by the Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau. The trail meanders through meadows and along ridges, offering panoramic views so stunning they make me stop every five minutes to gape. I’m on my own most of the time with just a few other hikers wandering past, eyes as wide as mine. I can't help but wonder where everyone is.
By the time I stumble back to the train station, I’ve earned my reward: a frosty Rugenbräu beer. Sitting on a bench with the Alps in the background, I toast the Swiss genius who decided beer tastes better at altitude.
Like walking through a painting.
When we finally reach the plateau, it’s an explosion of alpine magic with wildflowers, craggy peaks, and a skyline dominated by the Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau.
It's day three and I’ve swapped my hiking boots for a paddle. Kayaking on Lake Brienz is a workout disguised as sightseeing. I paddle through glassy, mirror-like waters that reflect the dramatic cliffs and forested hills around me. The Ringgenberg Castle Church ruins loom on the precipice of the lake’s edge. It’s peaceful and meditative, even as my kayak slices through the calm water. It’s only me and my guide, and I feel I’ve paddled back in time until I spot a hot tug in the far distance with a couple sipping champagne.
Waiting for the morning mist to rise on Lake Brienz.
Paddling back in time.
The day gets sweeter (literally) at the Funky Chocolate Club in Interlaken, a Willy Wonka-meets-DIY haven for anyone who’s ever dreamt of drowning in chocolate. As I walk in, the smell hits me—rich, sweet, and unapologetically indulgent. I’m greeted by a bubbly chocolatier named Nina, who, within minutes, has me donning an apron and red chocolatiers hat. It's not my best look, but I have to remind myself that I’m here for chocolate, not a fashion show.
The workshop kicks off with a crash course in Swiss chocolate. Turns out, Switzerland’s secret isn’t just cows and alpine views, it’s science. Nina passionately explains tempering, which involves melting and cooling chocolate to give it that perfect snap. I pretend to take notes, but I’m mostly eyeing off the giant bowl of molten chocolate in front of me and wondering when I’ll be able to eat it.
Very hard not to sample the ingredients!
Let's get wasted indeed.
Before I know it, it’s go time. I pour liquid gold onto a marble slab and start swirling it around with a spatula like I know what I’m doing (spoiler: I don’t). Chocolate somehow ends up on my apron, hands, and possibly my face, but I’m too busy taste-testing to care. “It’s research”, I tell myself.
The secret ingredient to Swiss chocolate is "tempering", which involves melting and cooling chocolate to give it that perfect snap.
Once the chocolate is tempered (or close enough), we move on to moulding and decorating. My inner artist emerges, and I channel all my creativity into crafting the ultimate chocolate bar. Is it over the top? Absolutely. Will it taste amazing? You bet your Augustus Gloop-ing backside it will.
As we wait for our creations to set, we’re handed samples of every chocolate imaginable; dark, milk, white, and everything in between. By the time my masterpiece is ready, I’m not actually sure I can eat any more of the sweet brown bliss.
I leave with my custom-made bar, a certificate declaring me a "Certified Swiss Chocolatier" (questionable), and a massive grin. The Funky Chocolate Club isn’t just a workshop, it’s pure, unadulterated joy. I eat the entire bar on the train back to my hotel and swear to myself I'll never touch chocolate again. Spoiler alert. I do.
Is there a zipline with better views anywhere in the world?
By midweek, it’s time to crank up the adrenaline again, so we head to Grindelwald First, just a short extremely scenic train ride from Interlaken. This place is where adventure junkies like me are spoiled for choice.
First up: the First Flyer, a zipline that sends me hurtling down the mountain at 80km/h, screaming like I’ve just seen my travel insurance premium. Not content with one zipline, I try the First Glider next, where I’m strapped into a harness that mimics flying like a bird. It’s equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. The adrenaline kicks in hard on both, and the views are just as mind-blowing.
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Next, it’s trottibiking, which is essentially a mountain scooter on steroids. Picture a chunky two-wheeler with handlebars but no seat, designed for downhill speed.
Trottibiking, which is essentially a mountain scooter on steroids. Picture a chunky two-wheeler with handlebars but no seat, designed for downhill speed.
The route twists and turns through alpine meadows, past herds of cows winding all the way down into Grindelwald town. The hardest part is keeping your concentration on the road and not the Jungfrau mountains.
Keeping your eyes on the road is difficult.
Next, it’s trottibiking, which is essentially a mountain scooter on steroids. Picture a chunky two-wheeler with handlebars but no seat, designed for downhill speed.
Trottibiking, which is essentially a mountain scooter on steroids. Picture a chunky two-wheeler with handlebars but no seat, designed for downhill speed.
The route twists and turns through alpine meadows, past herds of cows winding all the way down into Grindelwald town. The hardest part is keeping your concentration on the road and not the Jungfrau mountains.
Keeping your eyes on the road is difficult.
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From there (this was a big day), I jump into a mountain cart, which looks like a go-kart had a baby with a tricycle. Gravity does the work as I careen down dusty tracks, dodging rocks and slow riders, trying not to skid into oblivion. It’s hard not to get competitive and I overtake my travelling mate Daniel at the first turn. From then it’s on. It’s chaotic, it’s hilarious, and it leaves me covered in dust and adrenaline.
Handy views of Grindelwald from up here.
But the pièce de résistance on Grindelwald First is tandem paragliding. My pilot, Josh, has the energy of a stuntman and the sense of humour of someone who finds terror amusing. As we take off, the landscape opens up beneath me, Grindelwald and the endless peaks of the Alps.
It’s stunning and peaceful… until Josh starts pulling tricks. We’re talking spins, dives, and a particularly brutal spiral that leaves me screaming like a small child while he laughs maniacally. By the time we land, my legs are jelly, but I can’t wipe the grin off my face.
Preparing to jump off a cliff...
Handy views of Grindelwald from up here.
You'd think that should do it, but the day’s not over yet. My final challenge, and easily the most terrifying is the Glacier Canyon Swing, a 50 metre freefall into a dramatic canyon. Standing on the edge of the platform, I briefly question my life choices. Then I jump, or maybe I’m pushed by my own sense of pride, either way the world drops away suddenly and I can hear myself scream in a Chewbacca like guttural cry.
The freefall is pure terror, but the swing that follows is pure magic. At 120 kilometres per hour I soar through the canyon, adrenaline pumping, relaxed and staring back up at the platform I jumped from.
Just a 90 metre freefall into a canyon.
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As the week winds down, I dive headfirst into Switzerland’s culinary clichés. Fondue becomes a nightly ritual, with bubbling cheese pots devoured alongside crusty bread and potatoes. It’s carb heaven, and I have zero regrets. Shoulder season means no crowds at the restaurants, so I can indulge at my own leisurely pace.
Reflecting on the week, it’s clear that Switzerland isn’t just a place—it’s a playground. From the serene beauty of Lake Brienz to the adrenaline-soaked thrills of Grindelwald First, this corner of the country delivers in spades. Shoulder season makes it even better—no queues, no crowds, just me and the mountains.
Adventure, chocolate, and far too much fondue? That’s my kind of Swiss bliss.
get in the know Despite the fact that it's completely landlocked and is super famous for its alpine landscapes, there are parts of Switzerland that are actually warm enough to grow palm trees.
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