Summer before last my daughter and I went back to Switzerland and had a few backpacking trips planned. The first one, we hit the last snow storm of the year, on June 21st. We proceeded through the snow, in a whiteout, looking for a very elusive refuge. The trail was lost, the refuge somewhere straight above us. Every so often we would spot the flag that signaled our haven, and then it was gone again. After hours of feeling our wY through rocks with our trekking poles we found it. The door was open and the cellar was stocked with wood. I could go on forever about the refuge and the two of us.....But, the plan for the following morning was to continue up to the pass, no more than a couple of miles from the refuge and then head down to this amazing lake. I took a little exploratory outing while my daughter watched me from the little window. According to the map there were lots of small lakes along the trail. Well, all I saw was snow. No trail, no lakes. We decided to head back down to town and approach the little valley and lake from a different direction. We had to take 3 post buses and a train, then hike another day, to make our destination. It just was not worth the chance
Our next trip, after roping each other across a moraine, we came to a trail that flanked a lake, but 200 meters up, unbelievably steep, only a foot wide, icey and no ropes or cables. One wrong step ( and we are both clumsy) would have been the end. We turned around and decided on a different route all together. It was still an adventure and beautiful, but not nearly as dangerous.
I would rather be alive then have the most incredible adventure that I will not survive.