THERE’S A MOMENT, AS the sun peeks over the Alps, when it feels like I have Switzerland to myself. Gem-like glaciers glint from atop Europe’s loftiest mountains, unfolding in layers of snow. The sky morphs from a deep bruise to a soft blush, revealing Grindelwald’s chocolate-box chalets, neatly lined up in the foothills and puffing smoke from early morning fires; essential in this part of the world, but also a treat. It’s such a storybook setting that I half expect to see Heidi skipping up the street. Such bedazzlement becomes a daily ritual in this part of the world – Switzerland is the kind of place where each landscape is more ravishing than the last.
It’s hard to beat sunrise in Grindelwald. This petite town is wedged between lush green fields dotted by wide-eyed cows and mountains that were made for postcards. The Alps ripple across 60 per cent of the country, but
