With open eyes through the Lower Engadine

Whilst driving through the Lower Engadine, Goethe came to mind: ‘Do you want to ramble on and on? Look, the good is so close.’ Less than an hour from home, the Lower Engadine offers wonderful landscapes, dream roads and enchanted places for connoisseurs. Would you like to join me on this journey?

Before you read, please note: this post was translated with the help of Deepl.
If you find any errors – please have fun first and then give me a hint.

My home town of Schluderns is actually within sight of Graubünden. Nevertheless, the country behind the barrier was unknown to me for years. In my childhood, ‘We’re going to Switzerland’ meant filling up with petrol just over the border. My parents probably never visited Müstair, the village just a kilometre away. I experienced the Ofen Pass for the first time when I was 19, on a cabriolet trip with friends.

Val Müstair and the Engadin remained terra incognita for me until the end of the 1990s. That changed when the partner of my motocycle mate found a job in Scuol: We celebrated low banked turns on our visits without knowing about the Swiss penalties – and were lucky. The Reschenpass – Unterengadin – Ofenpass – Vinschgau round trip became an alternative when the traffic backed up at home. Which he always did back then …

In 2004, I also found a job in a ‘foreign country’. I got to know Val Müstair, came into contact with the locals and lived there for a while. And: I learnt a few words of Rhaeto-Romanic, the ancient language of this region.

The programme ‘Mit dem Postauto durch das Engadin’ was recently shown on TV. I followed the journeys of the yellow buses with interest – I recognised places such as Ftan, S-charl and Tarasp, but not the landscapes shown. As well as I can remember the course of the road in the Lower Engadine, I can’t deny the tarmac panorama effect: I only noticed everything out of the corner of my eye. Definitely a shortcoming.

The tranquil landscape shots in the report were so captivating that I immediately set off on my motorcycle to take a closer look at the Lower Engadine.

With open eyes
 through the Lower Engadine

The road from Laas to St. Valentin is quickly behind me; there, in the wide hairpin bends of the Reschen Pass, the motocycle dance begins. Short sprints, fast turns, rapid climbing towards the two lakes. On the ride up to the famous tower, the Zero SR/F draws around 20% charge from the battery – leaving plenty of energy for the rest of the route.

The Reschen Pass opens up into the Fuhrmannsloch. The uneventful kilometres pass by in a dead straight line before my route branches off to the Norbertshöhe and I experience the next highlight: the descent to Martina (CH). This is six kilometres of serpentines, pure riding pleasure and enjoyment. There are always views that hide more than they show. The well-maintained road cuts through the forest, crosses the Inn at the bottom of the valley and ends at the customs building. Allegra! You have reached Switzerland.

Arrived
 in the Lower Engadine

I choose the route through Martina and discover houses with discreetly decorated façades. Everything is neat and clean – but doesn’t tempt me to stop. So Tschlin, one of the most beautiful villages in Switzerland, becomes my first destination. The village basks in the sun on a mountain terrace. Curves of all radii take me uphill; I stop several times to look over the landscape. From over 1500 metres above sea level, I can see flat slopes, the green Inn winding its way through the valley and rugged mountain giants.

Peace reigns in the seemingly deserted village. The houses are lovingly decorated with flowers, antiques and perhaps even random artefacts and, of course, bear the symbols of hunting on the walls: Skulls with antlers of all sizes tell of man’s small victory over the animal world. You may find this strange, but without this folklore, the place would be missing something.

I can’t help but get the impression that the inhabitants enjoy living here. It’s a good thing that I don’t disturb the idyll with my quiet motorcycle – only the tyres rumble on the cobblestones.

Tschlin is small and easy to drive through. I leave the side streets unvisited – a cursory glance is enough. This is a place that needs to be experienced on foot, with plenty of time.

The onward journey takes me back down into the valley; at Ramosch I reach a covered wooden bridge via a somewhat neglected path. From its parapet, I watch fishermen on the banks of the Inn and photograph colourful figures on the bridge portal. The Assa meanders as a thin thread of water through its gravel delta and around huge stones – the forces of nature that have torn these chunks out of the mountains are unimaginable to me. I would love to follow the riverside path to Sur En, but a prohibition sign advises against it.

My next stop is the cemetery on the outskirts of Ramosch. From here there is a good view of the ruins of Tschanüff Castle. Information boards provide details about the history of the building. Interesting to learn: The lords of Matsch ruled Tschanüff in the 14th century; their ancestral seat was Churburg Castle above Schluderns – my home village, just 25 kilometres away by air.

Five hairpin bends later, I reach Vnà – I can’t go any further even on two wheels, so I stretch my legs. On the opposite side of the valley, I discover a building protruding from the trees: the Hotel Val Sinestra, an ancient spa. That’s where I want to go.

The route starts in Sent, in a labyrinth of narrow, cobbled alleyways between houses with thick walls. Cosy: a wooden bench in front of almost every house entrance invites you to pause for a moment, while Rhaeto-Romanic sayings carved into the façades as sgraffito challenge my language skills. Sent is beautiful to look at and I pass the time exploring the many winding paths.

Val
 Sinestra

After riding through Sent, I make my way into Val Sinestra. This leads narrowly out of the village and climbs slightly at the beginning, only to enter the forest after a few kilometres on a flat, unpaved road. Gravel has been pressed into the ground by many vehicles, so even with my low-profile tyres I manage well. Thick moss covers the forest floor and the smell of mould fills my nose. The sound of water rushing down into the valley mingles with that of the trees being moved by the wind, and glimpses of the infinitely deep ravine at the edge of the carriageway tease my fear of heights. Don’t stray from the path now!

I pass rough erosion scars, a narrow bridge over the void and finally catch sight of the imposing façade of the Hotel Val Sinestra. It rises majestically into the air, probably over almost a dozen floors high. Trees still prevent me from recognising the true dimensions of this building, but once I reach the car park behind it, I am amazed. In front of me stands a classically designed building, perched on a cliff edge, embraced by two towers.

Rough gravel cracks beneath me as I approach the hotel. At first glance, it seems a little outdated, but with every metre less distance, something wondrous and unique is revealed. There are still candlesticks instead of LED lamps, wide staircases instead of turbo lifts, huge bathrooms with towels and toilet paper on their own tables instead of chemical toilets.

This is a place of tranquillity that has stood still in time. I settle into a big chair in the foyer and try to imagine the heyday of this hotel: What music might have been blaring from the bar? How many languages floated through the corridors? What might it have smelt like in the dining room, how far could you see when looking out of the tower room?

I like it here.

On the way back, I dwell on my foyer thoughts for a long time. And I don’t actually want to leave yet. I would like to spend a few nights in this special house. Sometimes …

I drive over a wonderful stretch of tarmac from Sent to the main town in the Lower Engadine – and leave it to the left. After all, I remember Scuol from before, and the little sign that says Val S-charl is much more appealing.

Val
 S-charl

Once again, the route climbs quickly and full of bends. Just after the Inn bridge, the path leads into dense forest, where it winds its way round several hairpin bends and finally runs along the edge of the wild Clemgia Gorge, which plunges dramatically into the depths. A few kilometres later, unprecedented gravel deserts rise up in front of me, and at some point the already damaged asphalt disappears completely.

I plunge into a raw wilderness, following dusty gravel deeper into the valley. I experience the elemental forces of nature as I roll over several towering piles of rubble. The tracks in the mountains from which these masses of rock burst into the valley cut kilometres deep and desolate into the mountains. Now I realise the meaning behind the signs that warn against driving through Val S-charl in bad weather or when thunderstorms are imminent; this is not a safe place.

Now only travelling at walking pace, I take in the intense impressions that wash over me: The remains of avalanches, scree, driftwood, tunnels, power station structures, vertical rock faces, exposed roots and the constant roar of the water – WHAT a valley!

Before the small village of S-charl, a former miners’ settlement, it widens out a little, allowing for green spaces and a well-used car park. The valley is not that isolated; inns tempt you with hearty cuisine and sockets for e-bikes, trails and hiking paths open up the head of the valley and lead further up the rocky outcrop into the Vinschgau Valley.

And of course there is a stop for the Postbus.

It all has to sink in for a while, I didn’t expect it to. I lean against the railing of a small bridge and watch the Clemgia flow by for a while before setting off for Scuol. The biggest surprises are already behind me, but the return journey makes a lasting impression on me. Scuol is once again left behind.

On the well-maintained track towards Zernez with little traffic, I enjoy the wind with my visor open. Whereas minutes earlier, on gravel, I was barely in double figures, I now unleash the immense torque of the SR/F, trust the roughness of the tarmac, the grip of the tyres and ride at low lean angles as the greatest possible contrast to motorcycling through the Val S-charl.

I stop again at the top of the mountainside. I take a look at Guarda, the home of Schellen-Ursli. In 1945, the author Selina Chönz wrote down his story, creating the most famous children’s book in Switzerland. Now I stand alone in the small museum in the centre of Guarda and immerse myself in Ursli’s story. I think of the Engadin children who parade through the streets every year on 1 March with their bells, chasing away the winter with this rhythmic noise. Chalanda Marz – the biggest day of the year for some.

It’s time to get back to South Tyrol. Only a few kilometres lie between me, Zernez and the Val da Spöl, which will take me to the Ofen Pass. Zernez doesn’t fit in at all with the other places I visited today: it burnt down almost completely in 1872 and was largely rebuilt in an urban style.

Il Fuorn. Only half an hour separates me from the border with Italy, and in these 30 minutes I enjoy one of the most beautiful motorcycle roads around. Winding and steep, then flat again and running straight through the national park for long stretches, along deep chasms and immensely wide stream beds, the route offers everything and more that you could wish for on two wheels.

Attentive eyes will discover devastation caused by avalanches, the remains of ancient lime kilns, rugged side valleys and, in the evening, wild life among the trees. The speed limit of 80 km/h should not be exceeded at dusk – there is a lot of red deer here and they take up space.

Almost 250 kilometres lie behind me, and they have given me many new impressions. The Lower Engadine, which is practically on my doorstep, proved to be a multi-faceted region. I will continue to keep my eyes open in the future.

Perfectly matching: