Blueberries for Erica

I've been craving the mountains lately. I even dressed in camping clothes last week and rode around the city wishing/pretending I was in the woods.
My wish was granted sooner than I thought. I spent two glorious days in back in Andermatt. I took Charly on a little hike, through the woods, up the neighboring mountain. When we got to the top, we found a sea of blueberry bushes bearing berries! I thought we had missed blueberry season- we had tried a month ago and were too early. Then a week or so ago, some early snow came. Apparetly, blueberries only grow at great heights.
I started to pick them with my bare fingers. It was a slow process, and I was afraid that the herd of Yaks might come by.
I should explain that in Switzerland, cows are everywhere. They're always moving around from place to place; from the field next to the big shopping center to the most remote mountain peaks. It is not unsual for a hiking trail to cut through a field where cows are grazing. They are usually quiet and gentle, unless provoked, so this is not a problem. However some idiot guy from Andermatt decided that he was too cool for cows and got himself a herd of Yaks. Yaks are cool and all, but you just can't go strolling through a field of yacks in the same way you would through a field of docile Swiss milk cows, especially if you have a dog. One hiking was already injured. Also, the yaks don't wear cow bells, or yak bells, or a bells of any kind.
So that addd a bit of excietment to the rather idylic act of picking blueberries on top the mountian. I could not see, hear, or smell them. There were no cow-pies around. Still I kept turning over my shoulder to see if they were coming.
As you can tell, we both made it back safe and sounds. Sorry I can't share the berries with you over the internets. They are a bit tart, but berry delicious!



Blueberries sitting on top of the world.



Charly in the blueberrry patch, wondering why I've suddenly stopped hiking. On a side note, last time I was up here, I was snowboarding. Right over these bushes.  

I am in love with the colour palate of the bush and berries. Very autumnal- as if the alps were singed just a wee bit.

Picker beware: there are look-alike blueberries growing at such hights too. The way to check and see if it's a real blueberry is to squish it. Fake blueberries ooze white gue. Real blueberries have dark pink ink.  

It is also rasberry season, but as these seems to grow at lower altitudes, so I let them be.

Pretty though, aren't they?

The Yak herd! You can't tell from this photo, but it was taken from the other side of the electric wire enclosue and the other side of the river.

So we made it home with our lovely blueberries, safe and sound.