Crossing Borders: 5 Days of Hiking from Switzerland to Italy

My adventure began in the Swiss village of Arolla, tucked high in the Val d’Hérens. The goal was simple: to cross into Italy on foot via remote alpine passes, camping or staying in simple huts along the way. The weather was on our side—clear skies, crisp mornings, and long daylight hours, perfect for ambitious days on the trail. The first day took us up the Pas de Chèvres, a steep climb assisted by metal ladders bolted into the cliffs. From the top, the view stretched across glaciers and jagged ridges. We descended into a valley dotted with alpine lakes before setting up camp on a grassy shelf overlooking the Dent Blanche. Day two was a grueling ascent to the Col Collon, the natural border between Switzerland and Italy. The trail was rough, with sections of loose scree and patches of late-summer snow. Cresting the pass, there were no signs or flags—just a simple cairn and a sense of stepping into a different world. On the Italian side, the landscape softened slightly, with rolling meadows and wooden chalets scattered across the slopes. That night we stayed in a rifugio where pasta and polenta replaced rösti and fondue. The rhythm of the trek settled in: early starts to catch cool air, long climbs rewarded by sweeping vistas, leisurely lunches beside rivers or in tiny hamlets. On day three, we followed sections of the Alta Via trail network, moving through the Aosta Valley. The terrain was varied—sometimes sharp and technical, other times smooth and winding through forests of larch and fir. The hospitality on the Italian side was warm and unhurried; hikers were greeted with espresso and homemade pastries even in the most remote huts. By day four, the wear and tear of constant elevation change began to show. Knees ached, shoulders stiffened under backpack straps, but the sense of momentum and purpose carried us forward. We tackled a final major pass near Col Malatrà, with Mont Blanc rising dramatically to the west. The fifth day was a celebratory descent toward Courmayeur, where the streets buzzed with late-summer tourists but the mountains still framed everything in grand, silent beauty. Reflecting on the journey, what struck me most was how natural the crossing felt. Borders in the mountains are political, but on the trail, the continuity of landscape, culture, and human connection is what stands out. From the rugged stone huts of Valais to the vibrant rifugi of the Aosta Valley, the transition was seamless, stitched together by shared history and a love for the high country. For anyone considering a border-crossing trek, I recommend studying your route carefully, checking entry requirements if needed, and booking huts in advance during high season. Crion.org is an excellent resource for finding local guides who know the nuances of cross-border hiking and can enrich your trip with regional stories and practical tips. Walking from Switzerland to Italy isn’t just a physical accomplishment—it’s a reminder that adventure thrives where we allow nature, not politics, to define the path.