The route from Switzerland’s Engadin Valley to Italy via Malojapass is an impressive geographic formation that serves as a dividing line of many sorts: between the German/Romansh speaking region and the Italian-speaking region of Switzerland; between age-old Bernina granite, bedrock of the Massif Bernina, and Bergell (Bregaglia) granite, youngest in all the alps.
This was the valley we took to Gordona, Italy for canyoning in Valle Bodengo, with Leo Blattler from St. Moritz Experience. At Maloja, we pulled up to a roadside overlook. He pointed out an entrance to a secret cavern dating to WW II, an entry poiny into a laberynth of caves. Down we dropped 1,000 m into Val Bregaglia on a switchbacking road Lance Armstrong has used for training. Down and down we went, until we saw our first palm tree (since Key Largo!)
Leo took a right off the highway up a dirt road along the Valle Bodengo, our destination for canyoning. We stopped first for coffee at the Dunadiv Bar Trattoria, a wooden hut up on a hill just off the road, with a porch and picnic tables outside. They have made a little local business here based on canyoning. Here he showed us the map of the three courses. We would be doing course number 1, the easiest, with the highest vertical descent only 10 meters. Courses 2 and 3 looked tortuous.
Suiting up in neoprene jumpers with hoods, jackets, gloves, booties, climbing shoes, helmets and harnesses took awhile. Then Leo took us upstream where the river rushed over boulders smoothed over by millions of years of rushing water.
“I brings billionaires up here and they are like kids, playing in the water,” he said as he floated down the stream and gestured for us to follow. We floated like seals through the chutes and into small pools of crystal clear, freezing water.
A safety talk followed, complete with signals for “I’m OK,” “hold your arms and legs in tight to your body,” and “No, I don’t want to do it” (a finger wag).
I almost used that one on the first rappel down, but Leo insisted I could do it, and I did! I walked down backwards on the steep rock face, and when he told me to, I let go with a yelp and fell into the pool below.
The second rappel was easier to begin, but a little harder further down where we had to negotiage a jutting rock. I was near the bottom when Leo yelled down: “I am so proud!” and he took my photo. As long as I didn’t look down, I was fine, and I beamed with pride too (did I mention I’m terrified of heights? Of even standing on a step ladder?)
At the next challange, we cannonballed into a deep pool, then climbed up and did it again. At the last and highest drop of 30 feet (10 meters), we zip-lined down into the water yelling all the way.
We walked back up to the car, picking blackberries along the way. That’s when I confessed to Leo that I hadn’t slept the entire night before, I’d been so nervous. He assured us that with good, responsible guides, this is a safe sport, although it comes with the risk inherent in any water sport.
We stopped at the bar again, this time for bread, cheese, cured meat and a bottle of locally made red wine. Dessert was at an outdoor cafe in Chiavenna – gelatto, of course – followed by a sunset walk through the mountain village of Soglio, surrounded by a chestnut forest.
"You know, life is short," Leo said, as we watched the sun turn the mountains red. "You have to do what you want to do now."
