Andreas Kern
· 24.11.2023
What do the Engadin and Tibet have in common? There are still nameless peaks. And what distinguishes the Engadin from Tibet? In the Engadin, you can cycle up a nameless peak without having to take your foot off the pedal. At least on an e-MTB. Isn't that possible? Yes there is!
Three seconds after my friend Bene tells me about the no-name mountain high above Livigno, I zoom in on the digital compass map. That's right, nameless, 2917 metres high. But the Swiss have certainly not forgotten this border peak between the Engadin and Livigno. So I quickly pulled out the map from the Federal Office of Topography - but here too: 2917 metres high, no name. So Bene is right. And I have a reason to make a pilgrimage to Livigno again. To an old acquaintance who, as if by chance, points the way to the nameless summit: Passo Chaschauna.
This 2694 metre high border pass between the Engadin and Livigno took the last of my energy back in 1992, on my very first Alpine crossing, namely on Heckmair's trail from Oberstdorf to Lake Garda. And then this ultra-steep military track down to Livigno - the purest kamikaze flight. Rain and cantilever brakes were a suicidal combination. I praise the third millennium for that! Nowadays, you can fly from Val Federia up to the ugly military barracks called Rifugio Cassana in less than three quarters of an hour on an e-MTB. Quickly onwards! Bene, Tassilo and I crank up to Passo Chaschauna in ten minutes on a steep but perfectly rideable trail - and I can hardly believe my eyes: the Engadiners have simply closed down the old, steep mule track from the far Val Chaschauna and instead conjured up the purest serpentine marvel on the western flank of Piz Chaschanella. The nameless summit assault will have to wait - these bends look like fun, we have to get down there! At the bottom, we take a break at the cosy Alpe Chaschauna, then zoom back up to the pass along the same route. Long live the casual arrogance of the e-mobilist!
But now to the summit! Nowhere does Livigno live up to its nickname "Little Tibet" as much as up here. A path as wide as a prayer flag snakes its way westwards along the northern side of a mighty mountain ridge. After half an hour, which even with the help of the motor is a real drag on the legs, we reach the summit. For the last 50 metres in altitude, we each make our own way up the Baldy. Of course, there's no summit cross up here, no summit book, no summit beer. But a view to kneel down for. And the descent down into the well-known Val Federia? It's difficult to find at first in the almost 3000 metre high lunar landscape. But we soon discover something like a hint of a track, which increasingly turns into a bumpy path that leads through Val da le Verón down to Cheséira Federia. We celebrate our successful no-name adventure on the terrace of the cheese dairy. Appropriately with beer and cheese. Homemade cheese, of course!