Mürren in the Bernese Oberland

September 20, 2025

We arrived at Interlaken on a Saturday, when it seemed that every other tourist in Switzerland was also trying to get to Lauterbrunnen. The gateway to the Bernese Oberland (Switzerland's Alpine region) was packed with baby strollers, mountain bikes, dogs, rolling suitcases, and people crammed like sardines into train carriages. At one point, during a train transfer, it felt like the start of a marathon, as the crowd sprinted in one mass movement toward the waiting train. Won and I, with our Cotopaxi backpacks, darted past some people encumbered with multiple rolling suitcases, and squeezed ourselves in to the last train carriage before the doors closed. We didn’t have time to check to see where this particular carriage was going. A few stops in, the train split. Half the carriages went on their merry way to Lauterbrunnen, while the half we were on was going to head in the opposite direction to Grindelwald.

We disembarked and watched as the correct half of the train rumbled away. This is how we found ourselves in Zweilutschinen, a tiny rail station surrounded by slopes of surrounding mountains. It was an unexpected introduction to the Jungfrau region, crisp mountain air and brilliant blue skies and towering mountain peaks. We had a reset and a picnic lunch before the next train arrived and we could get on the correct half to Lauterbrunnen.

Lauterbrunnen is supposedly J.R.R. Tolkien’s inspiration for Rivendell. It was decidedly un-Elvish on this day, as every human seemed to be an American tourist trying to get on the cable car to Mürren. It was a relief to be finally lifted off the valley floor, up up and away, to the peak of the Schilthorn. The views were unreal. Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau - “eternal snow, etched as it seemed against eternal sunshine, and the Silberhorn sharp against dark blue: the Silvertine (Celebdil) of my dreams” (Tolkien).

Mürren is a picturesque Swiss Alpine village in the Jungfrau region, perched on a cliff over 5,000 ft above sea level. It allegedly has about 500 Swiss residents, but you wouldn’t know it because everyone seems to be an American tourist or Portuguese seasonal worker. Even tourists are segregated by algorithm these days. Americans googling in English and avidly reading Rick Steves are directed to Mürren and Gimmelwald; I wonder if Taiwanese googling in Mandarin are directed to Grindelwald and Lauterbrunnen. Regardless, you don’t go to the Jungfrau region to sit in town; you head into the mountains. You can leave the crowds behind by heading down a mountain path, where the only sound is the tinkling of cow bells. 

For generations upon generations, people lived in these mountains by keeping dairy cows, making cheese (which is easier to transport than milk via mountain paths), and harvesting wild summer hay by hand using scythes on the near vertical hillsides. The cows are let out to graze on high alpine meadows during the summer, then led down to lower elevations in the winter. We were lucky enough to witness the cows being brought down from their alpine meadows in late September. It was a jubilant and raucous parade of ceremonial bells.

We took the funicular from Mürren to Allmendhubel, and walked from mountain hut to mountain hut on the North Face trail. Lunch was a loaf of bread, cheese, and cured meat on a bench with the most spectacular view. This was washed down with a Schwartz Mönch beer at the Pension Gimmelwald, a dark lager with the slogan “tall, dark, and snow capped.” The owner of the Pension Gimmelwald with his shock of white hair seemed to embody the beer’s slogan as well.

Won started to get sniffly and sneezy in Mürren, which is right on cue, a predictable 3 days after a long flight. So it was just as well that the weather turned. Suddenly, the eternal sunshine and blue skies transformed into impenetrable white and cold. Perfect for hot tubs, cheese fondue, and hearty Swiss mountain fare. I had the best beef stroganoff of my life at Stägerstübli restaurant in town.

The Jungfrau region of Switzerland has been drawing tourists for centuries. When Tolkien visited in 1911, there were no cable cars nor lightweight technical gear. They carried their packs up and down these mountain paths, which is probably the inspiration for the hobbit journeys. In any case, it’s incredible to think we looked upon the same peaks and stood in awe at the same beauty.