On the 8th of July, the moment arrived once more. Months of meticulous planning, physical preparation, training and anticipation culminated in our departure for the Swiss Alps.
And then, as is so often the case, reality rewrote the script.
Summit of Eiger (3,970m), Bernese Oberland, 06.08.2026
Shifting Perspectives - Intense Weeks in the Swiss Alps
21 Aug 2026
I. THE JOURNEY
For my alpine endeavours and photographic projects, rigorous preparation is paramount. Yet, more often than not, it is rendered obsolete by decisions made in the moment.
This is especially true when nature asserts itself with its extremes, or when weather and mountain conditions shift without warning.
And yet, these deviations from the plan are often where the most meaningful experiences begin. Unexpected routes, changing perspectives, moments that could never have been planned.
It is with a profound sense of gratitude that I reflect today on a sequence of high-altitude climbs that will resonate for a long time to come.
MONTE ROSA MASSIF (11.07. - 13.07., 16.07.)
- Castor (4,225m)
- Naso del Lyskamm (4,272m)
- Ludwigshöhe (4,341m)
- Balmenhorn (4,167m)
- Corno Nero (4,321m)
- Vincent Pyramid (4,215m)
- Zumsteinspitze (4,563m)
- Signalkuppe (4,554m)
- Lagginhorn (4,010m)
BERNESE OBERLAND & VALAIS ALPS (03.08. - 14.08.)
- Mönch (4,110m)
- Grosses Fiescherhorn | Walchergrat (4,049m)
- Eiger | Mittellegi Ridge (3,970m)
- Grand Combin | Meitin Ridge (4,314m)
- Alphubel | Rotgrat · Mischabeljochbiwak (4,206m)
- Täschhorn | Mischabel Ridge (4,491m)
- Obergabelhorn (4,063m)
II. WHAT I WAS LOOKING FOR
After four years of mountaineering in the Swiss Alps, my objective this season was to delve deeper into the DNA of this singular landscape, one defined by extremes, yet marked by a fragile beauty.
The path to this understanding lay in exposing myself to more technically demanding and wilder alpine routes.
My goal was a dialogue between what the mountain offers, or withholds, and my own perception. I wanted to explore how far I could shift my perspective on an environment that had become so familiar to me over the last four years.
It is too early to answer this question in its entirety. Much of that answer will eventually be articulated through my photographic work.
However, one truth became clear: every new experience outside our mental comfort zone radically shifts our perception, regardless of what we choose to do with that new vantage point.
Beyond seeking wilder and more technical routes, the intention was also to heighten the intensity by spending more consecutive time on the mountain, with shorter periods of rest.
Naturally, as a photographic artist, the dramatic transformations within the high-alpine landscape invite a more refined form of observation.
Nothing is as natural, nor as powerful, as the interplay between what recedes and what emerges.
III. FIELD NOTES
It would be presumptuous to publish a diary of every experience here. Instead, I wish to offer an insight into my work that typically remains unseen.
Perhaps surprisingly, it centres very little on photography itself. Rather, it is a glimpse into the foundation that makes my photographic work possible in the first place.
11.07.
A helicopter hovers before the flank of Castor. Déjà vu.
Last year, Sandra was evacuated from this very slope. Now she is ahead of me on the rope. I wonder what she is thinking.
11.07.
Higher up the flank, at the exact site of last year's accident, a risk of rockfall develops.
Shortly after, we cross the narrow summit ridge. Sandra stands there with me at the top.
A beautiful moment. I am immensely proud of her.
13.07.
50 km/h winds at 4,500 metres are unforgiving.
Yet, the way the cloud cover over the Po Valley below breaks against the stone fortress of the Monte Rosa Massif is so compelling that I must draw the camera.
04.08.
I opted for an action camera on the Grosses Fiescherhorn, a decision I regret after crossing the first fields of hard ice in the dark.
The weight on my helmet pulls my head down, disrupting my rhythm. Throughout the climb, I notice how the thought of capturing "content" pulls me away from my focus.
A warning sign.
I am here to experience. The moment.
Photography preserves it; content creation, in my view, often disrupts it.
From that point on, the action camera remains in its case.
05.08.
We committed to it, and now I am here.
Looking up at the Eiger's Mittellegi Ridge, piercing the cloud cover like the tooth of a predator.
Tomorrow, the Eiger.
06.08.
Only once before have I shed tears on a mountain, during my retreat on the summit ridge of the Dufourspitze in 2023.
Now, at 06:15 AM on the 6th of August, I stand on the summit of the Eiger.
I look at my friend and guide, Sebastian, and say quietly:
"We are actually standing on the Eiger."
A single tear runs down my face.
08.08.
A mountain of loose debris.
The Meitin Ridge on the Grand Combin is not known for solid rock, and I feel my mental resolve tested for the first time this season.
Shortly after, from the summits of Combin de Valsorey and Grand Combin, a breathtaking panorama of the Mont Blanc massif reveals itself in the first morning light.
10.08.
03:30 breakfast.
Another short night, though I slept well. Given the climbs already in our legs, I could likely sleep anywhere.
Now, guided by the beam of my headlamp, we set out on what is arguably the most technically demanding route of my season.
Via the Rotgrat to the Alphubel, continuing to the Mischabeljochbiwak, and onward to the Täschhorn.
To be frank, I am not certain if I have this route in my legs, or in my mind.
10.08.
In one of the key passages, the rope dislodges a flake from the brittle rock, sending it directly onto my left wrist.
It leaves a prominent mark on the bezel.
Good job, Rolex.
It is 09:48 AM.
10.08.
There was a brief consideration to push for the Täschhorn immediately upon our early arrival at the bivouac, but my mind says no.
Melt snow. Hydrate. Lie down. Conserve energy.
Tomorrow is another day.
11.08.
We are too early.
We reach the summit of the Täschhorn before sunrise. While this makes the descent significantly safer, it presents a slight dilemma from a photographic perspective.
Welcome to the reality of an artist in the high mountains.
14.08.
It is enough.
With the summit of the Obergabelhorn, another great dream is realized.
Yet, I sense it is time to leave. There have been too many profound experiences in too little time. I can feel myself becoming numb to them.
Tomorrow, I head home.
16.08.
Back home with my loved ones, and the joy of it moves me deeply.
Yet, as always after returning from the mountains, there is this emptiness.
So full of emotion, yet so empty.
A strange paradox of returning from the mountains.
As a photographer, artist and mountaineer, I fail more often than I succeed. Many moments I wish to preserve elude me because the conditions refuse to cooperate, or because I am simply too slow for the shifting clouds.
All of this is woven into the scenarios described in these brief field notes.
It is what gives the images that do come to light their true meaning.
IV. BACK AT THE DESK
It is a profound privilege to be able to reflect on these experiences with the time they deserve. And an immense gift that we were able to bring every planned project to a successful conclusion at the summit.
Now, all of this must be allowed to resonate. To mature. To evolve. First and foremost through my photography, but also through the very words I write here. They, too, are an integral part of my artistic process, for the foundational purpose of my work has always been to share what has been lived.
Accordingly, my focus now shifts toward the major highlight of October and November this year. With deep humility, great respect, and immense anticipation, I look forward to presenting the culmination of these experiences, the very journey I hoped to share a glimpse of today.