Southern Switzerland introduces the world’s premier hammock hiking trail, inviting hikers to explore serene Alpine landscapes while carrying their beds for leisurely breaks and overnight stays
On a summer morning in the Lepontine Alps in Ticino, Switzerland’s Italian-speaking canton, the distant hint of a storm loomed. I was trekking along a trail through larch and hazelnut forests, carrying my backpack, heading towards a mountain pass. Ahead, a herd of short-haired goats grazed peacefully, their bells tinkling cheerfully. Behind me, the peaks overlooking the Maggia Valley alternately appeared and disappeared behind the shifting clouds, each summit revealing a rugged, tooth-like profile of exposed stone.
Every summer, I embark on hikes in Switzerland, but this time, I was intrigued by a new adventure: the world’s first hammock hiking trail, located west of the popular Locarno. Launched recently, this trail starts in the village of Bosco Gurin and is perfect for those who enjoy combining challenging hikes with the relaxed activity of hammock lounging. It’s a low-key, low-impact way to explore one of Switzerland’s most remarkable valleys.
I had planned to swim at the first hammock, have a snack at the second, rest at the third, and ideally, take a nap at the fourth
The project, named Ggurijnar Hermi, currently features twelve stations designed to accommodate one or more hammocks. Each site is carefully measured for the ideal span and height, equipped with fixed rubber straps attached to pine trees, and clip-on carabiners for quick set-up. These sites are selected for their tranquil views. One is a short, gentle uphill walk from Bosco Gurin’s 15th-century church. Another, which can accommodate up to seven hammocks, is located by a riverbank, complete with a firepit and a woodshed stocked with timber. Additional sites are spread along the upper valley’s marked trails. My plan was to complete the entire circuit, a trek that an averagely fit hiker can complete in about two days. This required embracing the elements and rethinking the concept of time well spent in the mountains.
I started my journey with a counterclockwise hike to four of the sites, including one situated directly below the 2,137-meter Passo Quadrella, a mountain pass offering a swift route into Italy. I had a swim planned at the first site, a snack at the second, a rest at the third, and intended to sleep at the fourth, near the river.
In my backpack, I carried a lightweight hammock rented for £14 a day or £35 a night (a map was also included) from the Panetteria Sartori bakery (one of three places in the village that stocked them), which was also convenient for picking up supplies – a nut-filled pastry felt like a must.
I hiked uphill from the village and quickly came across the first set of support points, hanging over a natural pool
The hammock trail is a community-driven initiative aimed at involving, assisting, and communicating with locals, enabling them to share their love for the valley’s serene spots with visitors.
Prior to embarking on my journey, I spoke with the trail’s designer, Zita Sartori, who was inspired to create the trail and showcase some of her favorite spots after receiving a hammock as a birthday gift during the 2021 lockdown. “Hammocks are a wonderful tool for experiencing the landscape in a new light,” she explained. “The goal is not to post photos on Instagram but to spend time outdoors and see things differently.”
Alone, I ascended from the village and soon reached the first set of suspension points, positioned over a natural pool. Setting up my hammock was a straightforward ritual, and I contemplated dedicating my day to a leisurely afternoon. Although the pool appeared clear, it also seemed quite cold. Rather than taking a swim, I gently swayed above it, listening to its tranquil sounds in silence.
As the air began to drizzle, I continued my ascent towards the second station, concealed within a cluster of trees. A red kite soared overhead, and as a patch of blue sky emerged from behind the clouds, I unfolded my hammock once more. Ahead, I spotted Grossalp, a collection of abandoned stone houses established around 1235 by Walser settlers who migrated east from the canton of Valais to avoid conflicts with feudal lords. To me, it resembled a miniature kingdom, seemingly existing beyond the confines of history.
Francesca Pedrocchi, vice-president of Bosco Gurin’s Museum Walserhaus, explained to me before my hike that the Walsers’ philosophy was not centered on land ownership; rather, they aimed to live simply, quietly, and independently while preserving the environment. She suggested that we can still draw lessons from their approach today about environmental mindfulness. In a small way, it felt like I was retracing her ancestors’ path, continuing their journey and starting anew in each new place.
By mid-afternoon, I found myself swaying beside a waterfall below Passo Quadrella. Initially, I had intended to spend the remainder of my day there, reflecting amidst the moody clouds and the sound of water against rock. However, as storm clouds gathered and heavy rain was predicted, I quickly descended the steep path. The drizzle escalated into a storm, prompting me to abandon my plan to set up my hammock in the open air by the riverside and instead head straight for Bosco Gurin. A silver lining was found in the village’s commitment to sustainability, particularly exemplified by its main employer, Hotel Walser, which actively engages with the community and staunchly supports local farmers.
Stone pathways guided travelers to ancient fountains where locals have drawn water for generations
Bosco Gurin is frequently hailed as one of Ticino’s most picturesque villages. The air is filled with the scent of woodsmoke drifting from chimneys, and houses are adorned with painted scenes depicting angels riding horses, spearing crocodiles, or ibexes haloed by mountains. Centuries-old stone streets meander to fountains where villagers have drawn water for generations. The village’s charm evoked memories of a summer I once spent in Tibet, making the bustling modernity of Zurich and Basel feel worlds apart.
The following day began with a mist that clung to the mountaintops, casting a white veil, and a noticeable absence of hikers on the trails. With more stops to explore, I resumed my journey and ventured into the Weltu forest, tracing a path along the Rovana River. I devoted the morning to the spot where I had planned to spend the night, enjoying a flask of coffee in my hammock while listening to the river’s gentle roar. Using binoculars, I searched the trees for hawks.
The wilderness that had captivated Sartori and sparked her new perspective on her environment was now influencing me. By midday, I had ascended to higher terrain, passing through the quiet orchards of Bawald-Wolfstaful and along a ridge. Throughout the afternoon, my hammock, now hung beneath a disused wooden avalanche shelter, served as my bed and my vantage point over the valley. As I neared the end of the trail, the rest of the world seemed distant, mere ripples in the landscape.
The trip was organized by Ticino Tourism. For more details about the Ggurijnar Hermi hammock trail, visit ggurijnar-hermi.ch. Hammocks are available for rent from Panetteria Sartori, Museum Walserhaus, and Casa Moni B&B. Double rooms at Hotel Walser start from £184 including half-board. For additional information, visit myswitzerland.com.
