Close to four weeks of wild camping in the Italian and Swiss Alps, where the line between both countries is meandering back and forth along mountain chains – what an intense and deep experience. For much of it I was travelling with my friend Heikey who spontaneously came from southern Germany to join. We knew each other very little before we met in Bormio and began to explore together. The journey took us from there to Val Mustair and the Vinschgau region of South Tirol – an ancient Etruscan mineral therme, camping among horses, the wounds left by fascism and mountain battles, serene high valleys, community and more…
Entering the Alps
I would like to lay open the journey through these powerful mountains that took me full circle in unexpected ways still difficult to grasp. The Alps showed themselves outside the train window on my route from Tuscany to northern Lombardy, just past Milano. As the train approached Lecco on Lake Como after many miles through lower frequency, highly polluted regions I saw those massive mountains that I remember from my late childhood – and I was shocked. I couldn’t connect. The mountains felt dead in some way while in my memory they were alive, powerful, having filled me with awe and respect in the past. Close to panic. I couldn’t understand. Why the hell did I leave Tuscany where I felt so at home?
I saw the beauty, the picturesque scenery, but Lake Como felt dark and the tunnels through which I passed on the bus to Tirano felt like a deadly insertion into the mountain range which strongly interfered with their energetic coherence. I deeply sensed how the power of these mountains to which we as human beings are so connected had been overshadowed by influences that are other than Nature, feel threatened and limited by Nature, and are not compatible with the aliveness of the Nature that we as human beings are.
Thought emerging: “OK, I will take this step by step. Maybe this journey was a mistake. Maybe I will leave the area and not stay at all. Maybe there is a reason I am here. Who knows. I stayed open, kept sensing. An intense beginning.
Night in Tirano
I arrived in Tirano at 9:30 pm. The sun was setting but there was still light. Prepared in my typical way I pulled out some written instructions to the place that had looked suitable for camping on the online map. Only 1.5 km with my heavy backpack. The last few hundred meters were hard as the path led steeply upwards, above the old part of the town. I was exhausted when I reached the castellaccio – the remains of an old stone castle – and took off the backpack, checking out the place. Sweat was running down my body. I am not going any higher. The castellaccio filled me with awe. The ancient frequencies felt powerful and friendly. Next to it were some bushes that were obviously part of a farmers’ land, but no one was around. I crawled in there. Good enough for the night. There was a spot without the thorny vegetation that would otherwise pierce the floor of my tent.
With the last daylight I setup the camp, rolled out the insulation pad and the sleeping bag, then crawled back out of the bushes to look. OMG. The lights of Tirano from above, surrounded by high mountains. Above my head was a clear starry sky. I was standing on a very old cobblestone path that led up higher past some farms into the forest. I loved the energies here. It felt peaceful above the noise of town. And soon I fell into a deep and restful sleep that lasted all the way through the night.
Livigno – Gucci, Armani, 2026 Olympics and wild camping
The next morning the journey continued to Livigno – the highest-altitude village in Europe. I had read an article which likened the place to Tibetan architecture, culture and scenery, and was curious. The arrival brought overwhelming surprises once more. I immediately sensed that completely different frequencies were at play here than one would find in the Himalayas. Livigno revealed itself as an exclusive ski resort base – a type of community I was utterly unfamiliar with. Expensive hotels – one next to the other – and stores like Gucci, Armani, fancy perfumeries and jewellery shops – often situated in the most beautiful, old buildings. Oh well…
I pulled out my drawn map to a piece of forest that was not too far from the bus stop and had appeared suitable on the online map. Except there was a ski lift right above it and mountain bike trails leading down the hill through it. Next to it was a construction zone where a new skiing piste is being built and which was fenced off all the way up and down. On the other side of the forest; a creek – beautiful but deeply cut into a narrow valley – terrain I didn’t want to pass with my luggage unless absolutely necessary. Hmm. After some time of exploring more deeply, quietly sensing the area, I decided to setup the tent in a little recess where it was only visible to people off the trails, and only from certain angles. It felt OK. Wild camping is not permitted in Italy, or Switzerland – Livigno is kind of in between the two countries – a duty-free zone. So I was taking my chances, but that’s life. Animals do it all the time.
For two days the camp felt like a serene retreat from the loud and indulgent energies of the village. I spent much time in silence, had my meals under the trees and drank the water from the creek. On the walks up and down the hill I met mountain bikers. I had to be alert to their presence to not accidentally cross one of their narrow trails while someone was coming down the slope at high speed. A couple of times I stopped, let them pass, and received a friendly nod in return. These people seem nature-connected, sporty and quite full of life – not the same as the exclusiveness of most of Livigno – worlds colliding. There is also a campground with one camper right next to the other across quite a large area – totally overcrowded in my eyes, and I was wondering if many of the mountain bikers were staying there.
While exploring the village I saw signs everywhere proudly announcing that Livingo will be a host for the 2026 Olympics. Lot’s of construction in many places. The entire focus of the village seems to be on this event. Is anyone questioning?
On day 3 – the last day of my stay here – I was on the way back to the tent, walking up the hill. From the distance I saw two large white pickup-type trucks, exactly at the height of my tent. I couldn’t yet see what they were and thought: “Oh well, mountain guards, I guess, who found my tent. Let’s see and deal with whatever needs to be dealt with”. The fines for wild camping can be high. I left the main path and turned right, into the forest. Two men working on the bike trails. They were talking in Italian (which I don’t understand). I nodded as a greeting and passed quietly. Then, from behind: “Lady, lady!” I turned around. “You can’t walk here. This is for mountain bikers.” Me, puzzled, looking back and forth, knowing that I needed to pass to get to my tent which they hopefully had not spotted: “I can’t hike here?” “No, this slope is for mountain bikers.” I began to turn back to the main path. The two men exchanged a few words in Italian. “Lady, you can carefully go to a trail by the creek which leads down into the valley, but you have to look out for mountain bikers.” Me: “Thank you so much!” The mountain guards had turned out to be trail maintenance workers, and I was pretty sure that if they had seen my tent, I would know by now. If it is not allowed to walk here, then certainly it is not permitted to camp.
I quietly walked through the forest, then sat down by the creek to take a breath. I sensed that I can’t go to my tent now which was only about 100 meter from the workers. The men had not seen it because I had placed it in that little recession which made it invisible from their angle, but I sensed that they would be drawn to it would I go there. It was 4 pm. I had seen the same workers at the bottom of the hill at 9 am – a 9-5 job I figured. And so it was, Shortly before 5 pm they disappeared. I went to my tent and had a last peaceful night before leaving for Bormio the next morning.
Meeting Heikey
The timing was perfect because Heikey didn’t feel drawn to Livigno and had booked an accommodation just outside Bormio. So I had to leave anyway to meet her. I meant to check my emails to see where exactly she would stay, but that did not happen. So after arriving I once more made my way to a forest location that had looked suitable for camping on an online map. Strangely I found myself setting up the tent next to a mountain creek that was thundering down the slope. It must have been a sense for a needed cleanse and reset after Livigno. The water was so loud that it took me some time to fall asleep. Yet the sound felt soothing.
The next morning I moved the tent to a spot 200 m away where it was much more quiet, and then walked into Bormio to find a cafe where I could check emails. It turned out that Heikey’s accommodation was about 200 m down the hill from where I had setup the tent – I couldn’t believe it. She had written Bormio-Valdisotto which is a large area and my tent was just around the corner from where she would stay. Meant to be. We met in the afternoon – for the first time in person, rather than on a laptop screen. The beginning of a deep and intense 2.5 weeks, and a sense that there was a ‘reason’ why we would travel this region together. Heikey was in the middle of breaking away from her living situation and home country – Germany.
Bormio – A physical reset all around
I could still hear the sounds of the creek in the distance and it felt as though I was listening to myself. It was my friend. I bathed in it, drank its water and washed my dishes and clothes in it. We had a strong connection – the creek and I. A few days later there seemed to be a huge shift in the surrounding mountains from which Heikey and I sensed the same lack of sentience that had been so palpable already when I entered the Alps. That evening, strong lightening, thunder and rain circled over the valley for hours. Typically thunder storms approach, reach their closest point – perhaps right above once head – and then move on. That evening though the thunder and lightening came close, were right above, gained some distance, came back around, right above, then left, and so on. I was laying on my belly in the tent and with every thunder the ground was vibrating.
Just before dark the rain stopped and I gladly walked to the creek to refill my water bottle for the night. I drank, as always. But something had changed and resolved itself into the water. This is the only explanation I have. The next morning I had watery diarrhea. This had never happened before and I drink wild water all the time since years. In 24 hours I pooped water probably about 20 times, and ate close to nothing. Even though I couldn’t grasp what was going on it felt like a major reset – inside the mountains, inside me, and around Sun Beings as well where past stuff came up and resolved.
Heikey felt lots of shifting too, and we decided to take this deeper and go to an ancient thermal spring and bath 4 km outside Bormio the next day, if I was able to do so. I was. 3 hours in natural mineral water that came directly out of the mountain at a warm temperature. The thermae was a great and intense experience. We found out that it used to be a sacred Etruscan bath long ago. I was stunned because over the last month I had been immersed in Etruscan frequencies in Tuscany, but did not expect to find remnants of this civilisation here in the Alps. A re-occurring theme… Heikey and I were both exhausted by the time we left the thermae. Resting and integrating the experiences was what followed. I felt as though I was not at all the same person as 2 days prior, and my connection to the mountains had become palpable and warm – finally. Still not strong, but it was there.
Togetherness – Merging pathways
What struck me on this trip is that travelling together – literally, or metaphorically – does not necessarily mean to move (or stay) in the same way. While I was living in a tent for the entire time, Heikey chose to mostly book accommodations. Despite the fact that I don’t have a phone our communication (by email) worked well and we easily found each other every day. It was refreshing to see how we could part and join, simply following what we each needed. No expectations to be like the other, but rather a merging of two quite different pathways.
For 3 days Heikey tried out a version of wild camping with me, at age 63, 44 years after her last night in a tent. She wanted the experience of sleeping so immersed in nature. I have a lot of respect for her following through with that, esp. as circumstances were not the easiest. I sensed that in the small mountain village of Taufers where we were at the time it wouldn’t be a good idea to setup 2 tents somewhere in the bushes with local people likely seeing us come and go. As we were exploring the area wondering how to make things work I heard a knocking sound close by and told Heikey that I will go and find out who is there. Perhaps I could ask if it would be OK to camp somewhere near.
What I found was a lovely man, chopping wood. Even though I had heard that a lot of ‘wild campers simply ask local farmers if they can setup their tents on their property I had never done that and shyly asked: ”Do you think we can camp somewhere in the surrounding forest, or is it not allowed at all?” He explained that some people don’t mind while others do. He looked around, obviously thinking about my question and then pointed uphill while saying: ”You could setup your tents a bit higher up, on our property.” He showed me the place, then Heikey joined us. We stayed for 3 nights.
Sleeping among horses – The sweetest dreams
Only after this arrangement was made did Heikey and I realise that this was the property of a community of people with horses. Even though over the summer most horses are somewhere on the mountain meadows, three of them were at the property with us every night. And a strange thing happened. Esp. during the first night I experienced tremendously deep sleep with the sweetest dreams. So much harmony. Upon waking I remembered the only place I had slept and dreamed like this before: on Aegina Island (Greece) where I was volunteering at an animal sanctuary, staying in a tiny stone house right next to … horses (and dogs, cats, pigs, chicken, a cow, donkeys etc.). Wow!
It could not have been anymore clear that it was the presence of these incredible animals who created this deep sense of harmony, particularly at night when my field is more open. And it happened again: on my last day in the Vinschgau region, in the small village of Laatsch, I setup my tent among some bushes. It was the only suitable spot I could find. Then I went down to the stream to fill up my water bottle and right on the other side, only about 80 meter away from the camp there were again horses. We connected and another sweet night followed.
Glurns – City walls and switching realities
Glurns is a small, medieval town, surrounded by intact city walls. The first time Heikey and I visited we had a wondrous experience: the frequencies felt so high, so uplifting – the old buildings from a time long past, the walk along the river and the conversation we had while we followed its course, the car that stopped while I took a picture of Heikey from the opposite side of the street – what a present, alert and sweet driver – the lovely young woman in the shop for traditional goods of the region, the Wanderhennen (nomadic hens), the chocolate ice cream :-). Then the wisdom that arose as Heikey and I were exploring this harmonious town, talking about life and these times: from deep inside came the words: “We just have to listen to our inner horse”. Something was different about this place.
I recognised something that stands true despite what happened later: cities, or villages surrounded by a wall contain a frequency that is substantially different from the area, or region surrounding them. It became very clear because I had just experienced the same thing in Tuscany, in the village of Cortona. The moment we walked through one of the entrances to Glurns, there was a completely different feeling in the body compared to outside. The moment I entered the village of Cortona through one of its 6 gates, OMG, what a change.
We came back to Glurns a second time though, on a completely different day. It was after our visit in Schlanders. We drove there (Heikey has a car) because it hosts an exhibition of standing stones in the castle building. What are the stones doing there? How does there presence effect the town? We wanted to find out. Within minutes after we arrived it started raining. It was Sunday and literally almost everything was closed. The village felt dead. We found one single hotel in the restaurant of which we sought refuge. Afterwards we visited the church since we were passing by anyway, and I heard myself say: “Oh the dead people are laying on the churchyard here”. The graves were between gravel fields – not a single tree, not even a piece of grass. Inside among various frescoes a chilling picture stood out to me: a man driving a huge nail through both temples of another person. The place felt dark. The castle was closed, but nonetheless it was clear why the standing stones had to be here.
We wanted some good energy and decided to visit Glurns a 2nd time. Well, it became clear that simply a completely different current of energy and frequencies was surging through this region this day. Even though the atmosphere was still different within the town’s walls than outside, our experience was not at all the same as before: a different woman in the shop for traditional goods. We did not resonate with her. Finding a place to rest and escape the drizzle was not easy, and soon after we sat down on a bench under a tree a strange man appeared in the outdoor space of the cafe right next to us. He talked to two women. His energy felt so uncomfortable that Heikey and I left. It was still Glurns but a different reality was surfacing in town and in us than before. Fascinating.
Reschen & Graun – Sunken villages
Reschen and Graun are two small villages on the shores of a lake that – even though beautiful – immediately appeared artificial along its fringes. Through Heikey’s accommodation we found out why. Lake Reschen used to be two lakes until without any consent by local people a decision was made to build a dam which would raise the water level by 22 m, turning the two lakes into one, and completely destroying the original two villages. This project of the Montecatini corporation was planned in 1939 under a fascist regime and then realised in 1950 despite the local people trying everything to stop it.
The inhabitants of Reschen and Graun were forcefully removed from the villages which were then destroyed with explosives before the area was flooded. 677 ha land disappeared, including not only homes but also the fertile farm land which the people depended on. Most of the almost 150 families left. It is a sad and yet classic example of the coercion of a local minority led by foreign industries as it has occurred over and over particularly in remote regions, and often on indigenous territories involving lands the sanctity of which was still celebrated at the time. The dictatorship of a small elite which quite obviously neither serves human communities and societies, not life in general.
Today there is a tower standing in the lake as a memorial – the only building left from the time before the flooding. Today’s villages of Graun and Reschen no longer carry the radiance of earlier times and an older, different way of life, more deeply connected with Nature. Much trauma was caused. Increasingly though children are enjoying the lake as it is, not knowing it any different, learning how to sail and swim in and on its waters. Slowly the past is overwritten. Sequences of time of alternating influences created layer upon layer of memory until a time came when everything began to change fundamentally. Such as the time we are living in now.
Religion – Two worlds
Religion – a topic I have never taken on before, because where to begin and where to end? What is religion? Spirituality? An institution? An anchor? A system of morality? A truth? Obviously it means different things to different people. The world’s major religious texts have been re-written and translated many times – altering original meanings, dropping and adding content. What are we left with?
For me religion is a form spirituality which is all about deep connectedness with myself and the world around me. Experiencing myself as a part of the system of life on this planet and beyond is thrilling and endlessly fulfilling. Based on my experiences particularly over the last months here in Italy, involving different currents of catholicism, I feel that the bond between religion, the Earth, the people who practice catholicism and the rootedness of spirituality in the ever-changing system of life varies beyond measure between churches, monasteries and religious communities.
For example, the first time I saw pictures of, and later walked into the Benedictine Saint John Abbey in Müstair, southern Switzerland, my whole being expanded. Inside I found out about the deep connectedness between the nuns, the surrounding land, a common-sense approach to life, art, and a profound silence which reflects to us who we are. The atmosphere felt uplifting. The nun who shared about her story in a video shown in the Abbey was humorous, authentic and down to Earth – so likable. The Abbey is embedded in a mesmerizing mountain scenery of palpable power, and is part of a community which farms animals and grows food based on organic principles that reaches throughout the entire Val Müstair.
In Burgeis (Vinschgau, Italian Alps) on the other hand when we visited the Benedictine Marienberg Abbey, also situated in a beautiful nature scenery I didn’t feel drawn to explore, to check out the cafe that is part of the monastery, or to connect with any of the people here. Strangely three times we ran into the same group of at first four and then three monks, dressed in black robes, and every time my whole being wanted to withdraw. The church further down in the village shows a strange symbol, connected to some brotherhood and carries the same heavy energies as the Abbey. Fürstenburg castle on the edge of the same village seems to radiate frequencies connected to fascism and who knows what dark happenings. So unpleasant. Heikey and I both felt the same way.
Both monasteries are part of the same stream of catholicism, not far from each other geographically, and embedded in the same mountain range, yet they are utterly different. In Tirano I visited the incredible Madonna di Tirano sanctuary – a pilgrimage destination which reflects Nature’s indulgent beauty, showing stunning architecture and art work. I sat in silence for at least half an hour in front of the Apparition of our Lady, sensing aliveness and wonder. Yet in the same town I see other churches with questionable paintings on the outside, not feeling uplifting at all. Everything quite literally stands and falls based on the nature of the specific community connected to a religious abode, or monument. It is so simple.
Going full circle – The mountains are alive!
On the way back to Tirano from the most northern parts of the Italian Vinschgau region I felt as though I was taken full circle by forces I cannot fathom, yet deeply appreciate. The plan was to travel to Müstair and then take the bus directly to Tirano. However, in Müstair I learned that an earthslide has blocked the small road between Stelvio and Bormio which is the only way for a straight connection to Tirano. Instead I have to take a bus to Zernez, then change to a train to Tirano. Bummer.
Well, it turned out to be a journey of incredible and unique beauty. First the bus to Zernez took me through the entire Val Müstair – a valley of strong Nature frequencies and quite a specific charm. I have not seen, or felt anything like it elsewhere. Then on the train, just past St. Moriz the loudspeaker came to life and a woman’s voice announced that I am on one of only two train routes which are part of the UNESCO world heritage. Well, I am not a fan of anything UN, but there is a reason why this route is considered important to world heritage. We moved past stunning glaciers and pristine mountain regions which radiated an aliveness reminiscent of the my memory of the Alps when I was a child. It was breath-taking, and considering that I was on my way out of the Alps it felt like the warmest, most loving ‘Goodbye’ I could imagine.
While many small mountain villages of the Alps have a sense of deadness to them, and I was shocked by the lack of mountain sentience I perceived in many places on this journey, I have to conclude that the range of the level of aliveness is huge. The interference with Nature in these mountains has been intense. Many regions feature underground bunkers, tunnels, and who knows what facilities which distort electromagnetic fields and the streams along which Earth’s light used to flow unhindered. The memory of trauma is written into the land in places like Reschen, Graun and many others, as a consequence of extreme coercion, destruction and killing that happened there. Religion has taken on many shapes and forms – some joyful and rooted in the wisdom of who we are, others dark beyond measure, nothing to do with spirituality. The influence of unhealthy institutional catholicism has been very strong in the Alps. Sadly, these and other influences certainly have reduced the power of the Alps and limited their natural functioning within the incredible system of life, joy and beauty.
Yet there are places in this mountain range where these interferences have occurred to a far lesser extent. On top of that massive changes such as the shift that happened during my stay in Bormio are the reflection of a fast and deep recalibration and rebalancing of natural currents down to the very physical level. What is not part of Nature, of life itself, is ejected at ever accelerating speed.
Wild camping – Keeping pathways open?
Most of the time I simply feel internal impulses towards new places, new people, or communities, a specific way of living, or travel. As the mental field catches up I sometimes wonder: “What is this step for?”, or “What am I doing here?”. Camping wild in the Alps for 4 weeks – in countries where this way of travel is not permitted felt like a keeping open of pathways, as well as an experiment exploring how far it is still possible to go, knowing that those who ferment strange regulations are rarely the ones who are locally on the ground.
So often in the past I have found myself taking avenues which officially were not accessible, i.e. not permitted, just to find out that the messages conveyed by media and institutions are often so far from what local people want that those apparently closed paths are actually open. The people in charge are the local people on the ground such as those who find my camp in the forest while walking with their dog, or gathering herbs, or even doing their work as a mountain guard and decide that they have never spotted my tent; the person behind the check-in counter at the airport who let me board the plane without mask, or test, or injection; the bus driver that gave me a free ride rather than excluding me from public transport when cash is not accepted (I have no cards, no bank account); locals who appreciate what I have to offer and choose working with me over following immigration law etc.
If local people on the ground want our pathways of life to be open, then they are open, no matter what institutions say, politicians claim, or other ‘official’ narratives attempt to make us believe. We are the people in charge. And it seems as though the more we use, or even demand these avenues and spaces the more we secure them and keep them alive.
More coming…
I am on my way back to Tuscany to be with … horses. It is an exchange I have organised several months ago. It feels as though there has been a crescendoing towards this new adventure, and most likely there will be more sharing coming. Stay connected to your inner horse.
Lot’s of love,
Carina
Photographs: All pictures were taken by Carina Ramm except three which were kindly provided by Heikey Taruttis (indicated in caption).
10 thoughts on “The Alps: Listen to your inner horse – By Carina”
What amazing and interesting adventures you’ve been on . I love that it is the locals that ‘make’ the laws. Love all the photos you shared especially the one of the tower in the lake. so unusual. Looking forward to hearing more .🐎🐎🐎🙏❤️
Thank you Lisa!
Wow. Powerful for me as I grew up in mountains controlled and overlaid by frequencies of commerce, the Olympics were hosted there as well, and beautiful how you overwrote and alchemized, as well as simply noticing and seeking out the older frequencies of these places, journeying with church and childhood memory, stone and glacial water… familiar routes to me, too
Thank you so much Tessa! Wow, so much similarity to Canadian mountains…
I enjoyed every moment reading your adventures and your insights. Feeling the waves of different experienced energies passing through your words. Thanks for the ride, wonderful.
Thank you Nicole!
‘Listening to my inner horse!’ I love this phrase Carina. The photos are gorgeous and give me glimpses into places I have yet to explore… I almost fell into the Lago Livigno photo… What vast open beauty. And the photo of Heikey and you, Carina, exemplifies happiness and pure joy as you ventured together there for a while. Your written experience leaves me in awe. Enjoy the horses in Tuscany! I too look forward to reading about your next adventures.
Thank you so much Leanda! Lago Livigno was stunning. I love that picture too.
Hi Carina
Very much enjoying reading your Newsletter.
All ok in Vrouva Farm but of course very hot
Lots of love
Alexia
Hi Alexia,
OMG, it’s been a long time! I am glad all is well at Vrouva. So lovely hearing from you!
Lot’s of love,
Carina