The “start” of my journey (I’d already spent two and a half hours travelling from Milan) at Tirano:
When I booked this train to Chur, I knew I had no guarantee of fine weather, but, at worst, I was expecting something damp and drizzly rather than this white-out. But it’s great nonetheless. Mr Sleary rules. I shall probably never see so much snow again, nor in such comfort.
The line wriggles and corkscrews up over the Alps (some short tunnels and the long Albulatunnel), climbing from 429m above sea level to 2,253m then down again.
There are paw/hoof-prints in the fresh snow, going up impossible angles and disappearing at gaps.
It really is white outside.
And I’ve still got to get to Zürich. However, what better way to spend such a foul, sleety, slippery day when I’m suffering from an incipient sore throat?