Today was where my search for the hidden gems began.
I barely slept last night, due to excitement mixed with anxiety. It’s hard to believe that not even a year and a half ago I was still scared to fly on my own, and today I’m taking on the
biggest project of my life in a country I’ve never been to before, with enough confidence to pull it off completely on my own. But... I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare me, at least a little.

Either way, I’m here now, and I have no choice but to give it my best shot.

The journey was surprisingly smooth. I flew from Kraków to Zurich, then headed to the Swiss Airport Lounge, where I finally met Anja and Michaela from Switzerland Tourism - aka my Guardian Angels. They walked me through the logistics and accompanied me to the train station. From that moment on, I was completely on my own. No camera crew following me around, no one to guide me. I had planned every detail of this trip myself, and for the next 10 days I'd be praying that nothing goes wrong as I cycle nearly 200 km and hike another 90.

Before saying goodbye, the girls made sure I was stocked up with a healthy amount of Swiss chocolate and left me with one final piece of advice: "Just be yourself." A bold thing to say to someone as chaotic as me, but exactly what I needed to hear. I decided not to overthink things and just go with the flow. From there, I caught a train to Bern and then continued on to my first destination - Murten.

The moment I stepped off the train, I realised just how hot it was in Switzerland. I wasn't expecting temperatures close to 28°C, but I couldn't have imagined a better day to see Murten. The town immediately gave off a cosy, charming atmosphere. It was calm and unhurried in the best possible way.

It was still full of life though, with people relaxing by the lake, playing volleyball, and enjoying
all kinds of water sports.
One thing I noticed almost immediately was how friendly everyone was. People smiled,
nodded as they passed, and made me feel welcome.

The town itself was walkable and incredibly easy to explore. Apparently, it has one of the best-preserved medieval fortifications in Switzerland (yes, I read all the boring information boards). It almost felt like walking through a movie set, especially with the view from the top of the defensive walls. I loved the narrow streets and how hilly they were. Everything had so much character and no matter where I pointed my camera, it looked beautiful in the sunset colors.

After exploring the town, I checked into the Hotel Bad Murtensee and sorted out the BMC bike that had been delivered to the staff. I adjusted the saddle to fit my height, mounted all my tools, and repacked everything for the start of my bikepacking adventure tomorrow. I think I’m ready. All there’s left to do is to enjoy the view from my balcony and try not to think about everything that can go wrong in the next 10 days.

I woke up feeling energised and ready to tackle anything life decided to throw at me. I just didn't expect it to start so early. I walked into the breakfast buffet, picked up three eggs from a basket and, blissfully unaware, assumed they were hard-boiled. Thankfully, a woman from the hotel staff noticed what I was about to do. She came over, said something in German, and with my very limited knowledge of the language, I somehow managed to work out that the eggs were, in fact, raw. Imagine my face if I'd cracked one over my plate filled with ham and cheese. Oooof.

Having successfully avoided the first disaster of the day, I started strapping the bags onto my bike and figuring out the weight distribution. Unsurprisingly, it took much longer than expected, so I didn't set off until around 10:30. Thankfully, I had deliberately planned the first two days to be fairly easy in case I ran into any issues with the bike. It was a rental and there was always a chance my luggage setup wouldn't fit properly. Turned out, there wasn't nearly enough clearance between my saddle bag and the rear tyre, so I packed only the lightest bits of kit into it and prayed to the cycling gods that it wouldn't rub. Unfortunately, that meant overloading my handlebar bag, which made the steering noticeably worse. And then there was the backpack... About 10 kg of filming equipment I'd be carrying on my back for the entire trip. There really wasn't any way around it, so I'd just like to apologise to my future self - your bum might never be the same after this trip. Also, a massive shout-out to yesterday's me for staying up late trying to solve all the bike fit problems.

The ride to Estavayer-le-Lac was stunning. It began with a half-loop around Lake Murten (Route No. 480 – Tour du Lac de Morat), before I took a detour onto gravel paths along the shores of Lac de Neuchâtel. I then stopped for a short break on one of the beaches before continuing on.

I arrived in Estavayer-le-Lac fairly early, which gave me plenty of time to explore the town properly. My first stop was Château de Chenaux, which seemed to be visible from almost every corner of the town. Judging by how busy the streets were, I expected the castle to be packed with people, but surprisingly, it was almost empty. For a brief moment, I felt like a princess enjoying an evening stroll around her castle.

The views from the fortifications were absolutely stunning too and helped me decide where to explore next.

I felt the same sense of serenity I had experienced in Murten. Boats slowly disappearing over the horizon, swans drifting across the water, and the only sound I could hear was the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore.

I think the peace I had felt over the last two days finally slowed my nervous system down enough for me to start noticing the little things again.

I walked back to my accommodation with a huge grin on my face, excited to finally head into the mountains tomorrow.

Today’s morning treated me a lot better.

I learned from yesterday's mistake and made sure not to put any raw eggs on my plate. I had a big breakfast consisting mostly of Gruyère cheese, ham and a generous amount of bread. I knew I'd need every bit of that fuel because today's ride was 60 km long, with 1,300 metres of elevation gain and around 18 kg of extra weight strapped to my bike.

I left the hotel fairly late, so my first stop of the day was Romont. The ride there was idyllic and completely different from what I'd expected Switzerland to look like. Vast open fields were stitched together by quiet farm roads and gravel tracks that occasionally disappeared into forests. It finally felt like true solitude, and the ride itself became almost meditative.

There was nothing to distract the eye - just wind, grass, and birds of prey occasionally breaking the silence with their calls. Seeing so many of them circling overhead, I immediately thought I'd absolutely lose my mind if I managed to find a buzzard's feather. Why? Well, among many of my weird habits, this one is fairly interesting. I like collecting bird’s feathers from every country I visit. Bonus points for those lost by birds of prey - they’re quite rare. I guess you could call me the manifestation queen because, later that day, I was extremely close to finding an absolute treasure.

After reaching Romont, I stopped for a quick lunch at Château de Romont, where I got my first proper view of the Fribourg Pre-Alps slowly emerging on the horizon. My excitement kept growing... but so did the elevation. Thankfully, I was still feeling great, so after exploring the town for a while, I continued towards Les Paccots.

About 20 kilometres before my destination, everything went completely downhill. Quite literally, actually.

My navigation app first directed me onto a forest road that had been closed because of logging work. Normally, that wouldn't have been a huge issue, except I'd just descended a massive hill to get there. There was absolutely no way I was climbing back up. Not because I couldn’t, I was just too lazy, I can’t lie.

Instead, I looked at the map and decided to push my bike across a grassy field until I reached the main road. About ten sweaty minutes later, I made it back onto the main road and carried on. Unfortunately, I didn't learn my lesson and kept following the original route.

After descending yet another huge hill, I found myself on another forest track. Everything seemed perfectly normal until the trail became far too rough for a gravel bike. Before I knew it, I was pushing my bike up a hiking trail through a cow field next to a farm. Brilliant... By this point, I'd gone too far to turn back. I had two options: either hike across the field until I reached the road again, or admit defeat, lose half an hour, and pretend none of this had ever happened. Naturally, I chose the least sensible option :) Instead of cutting my losses, I doubled down and kept following the navigation.

I climbed over one cattle gate, pushed my bike uphill for about fifteen minutes and reached another gate. This one was much harder to get through with a bike, so I had what I believed to be an excellent idea. Maybe I could just crawl under the electric fence instead. Before committing to this genius plan, I decided to check whether the fence was actually live by touching it with the top of my finger. News flash! The fence was, in fact - electric.

So I stuck to the original plan and wrestled my way through the gate, I continued climbing until I reached... another gate. Only this one was completely boarded up. There was no way over it. No way around it. No way under it either, because the fence was wired all the way from the ground to about a metre and a half high. Someone clearly didn't want any hikers passing through, let alone a weird lady pushing a bike.

At that point, there was genuinely nothing left to do except laugh. I'd just dragged my bike up a massive hill in 27-degree heat for... absolutely nothing. I turned around, hungry, tired, and fuming at my navigation app. But then, on the way back down, I found something that somehow redeemed the entire day.

A buzzard's feather.

I can't even describe how excited I was when I spotted it lying beside the path. I picked it up and immediately said: "You know what? Everything happens for a reason." I even forgave my navigation app. This was officially the best day ever! For about two minutes... The feather fell out of my pocket. Thankfully, I noticed it fairly quickly, backtracked a little and managed to find it again. Thank God. Now everything was going to be okay...right? Riiight? Eventually, I escaped the cow field, made it back to the road and immediately downloaded a different navigation app.

I finally arrived to a stunning Boutique Hôtel Corbetta in Les Paccots around 9:30 p.m., completely exhausted but buzzing for a hot shower and a comfortable bed. Only then did I realise I had lost the feather... AGAIN. This time, it was gone for good  ( I know, I wish the story had a happy ending too but unfortunately I love sabotaging myself by being a massive airhead.

But you know what? As much as I cared about that feather, it didn't ruin my day. None of what happened did, actually. If anything, it made me even more grateful for the simple things - a hot shower, a comfortable bed, and, most importantly, an unlimited supply of Gruyère cheese waiting for me at tomorrow's breakfast buffet.

After yesterday's disaster and about five hours of sleep, my body was finally starting to ache, and strangely enough, it felt good. Even though I knew I had over 20 km to hike that day, I was just excited to be back in the mountains. As much as I enjoy cycling, I decided to give the bike a well-deserved day off and head straight into the Fribourg Pre-Alps, choosing a loop over Le Moléson so I could get a proper look at the area.

The trails were much busier than I'd expected because a running event was taking place in the village, and although I usually prefer having the mountains all to myself, there was something really special about the atmosphere, with everyone cheering each other on and creating an incredible sense of community. Most of the trail runners absolutely smoked me on the climbs, and I still don't understand how anyone becomes that much of a mountain goat. I was happily taking my time, stopping every now and then just to admire the views. I wasn't in a rush, and it felt amazing, especially since the trail was exceptionally well marked, meaning I didn't have to worry about getting lost (again) and could simply enjoy the moment and soak in everything around me.

The hike was stunning and unfolded the whole panorama of Fribourg Alps from up close. You could see just how mountainous Switzerland is, despite still being quite far from the highest and most dramatic peaks. The route wasn’t too difficult, with just a tiny bit of scrambling. There was also a restaurant near the peak, so I stopped there for a short break to have ice cream and a drink.

After reaching the summit of Le Moléson, I jogged back down the mountain with an incredible sunset in front of me and 2000s music playing through my headphones. Something about that moment made me unexpectedly emotional. It wasn't sadness though, it was gratitude, a deep appreciation for having two healthy legs that had just carried me all the way up and back down the mountain. There were times in my life when I struggled to leave the house due to my anxiety, and that evening in Les Paccots felt like proof of how far I'd come, doing what I loved most with a healthy body in a place more beautiful than anything I'd experienced before.

Today I promised myself to never take that for granted.

The meadows around Les Paccots were unlike anything I'd ever seen before, a sea of wildflowers buzzing with countless species of insects, filling the air with a scent I still struggle to describe. Maybe something like a mixture of fresh wild mint, dry hay, and just a hint of cow. I don't think I've ever experienced so much life in a place with so few people around, and yet I never felt alone, as the constant hum of insects, mixed with the distant sound of cowbells, filled the silence perfectly.

By the time I made it back to the village, I was exhausted but incredibly happy. It was already 9:30 p.m. and almost every restaurant had closed for the evening. I was absolutely starving after hiking 26 km, so I walked into my Hotel's restaurant and asked if there was any chance they were still serving food. A lovely waiter offered to make me a pizza, and somehow that simple gesture made an already perfect day even better.

Back in my room, I found myself thinking about how much simpler happiness really is than I often make it out to be. No matter how much stress or pressure life throws at me, a long hike and a good pizza afterwards never seem to fail to cheer me up.

I wish I'd had one more day to spend in Les Paccots, but unfortunately it was time to say goodbye. After an amazing breakfast, I got myself and my bike ready and set off towards Jaun. The route wasn't particularly demanding: just 53 km with 1,200 metres of elevation gain. I was feeling great after yesterday's hike, and giving the bike a day off had definitely done me good. If it hadn't been for that, I don't think I would've enjoyed today's ride nearly as much. The only thing playing on my mind was the weather forecast.

I made very few stops along the way because I was trying to stay ahead of the approaching storm, though I made one exception. About 15 kilometres before Jaun, I came across a tiny chapel that had everything you'd want from the perfect lunch stop: fresh, ice-cold drinking water from a fountain, a small table with two chairs tucked away in the shade, and beautiful scenery all around. I’d give it bonus points for the lovely little garden and the chapel itself, where anyone could step inside for a quiet moment or simply sit with their thoughts. Everything was beautifully maintained, and it was obvious that someone put a lot of care into looking after the place. So, to whoever that person is - thank you. I genuinely enjoyed my break there and made sure to leave everything even tidier than I had found it.

After lunch, I continued towards Jaun, quietly hoping I'd beat the storm. The wind was beginning to pick up, and every now and then I could feel the first raindrops landing on my skin. Thankfully, I made it to my accommodation just in time.

The original plan was to leave some of my gear behind and cycle up the Jaunpass that evening, but the distant rumble of thunder quickly convinced me otherwise. Instead, I headed to my hotel's restaurant, ordered a cheese fondue and decided to call it a day.

Honestly, I didn't mind changing my plans. The village itself was absolutely stunning. From almost every corner, you could hear the gentle sound of the waterfall flowing through the valley.

After finishing my fondue, I couldn't resist going out for one last walk before darkness settled in. I have to say, Jaun impressed me far more than I expected. No matter where I pointed my camera, everything looked cinematic. And I know - saying "Switzerland is beautiful" is a bit like saying the sky is blue, but places like these offer something much more valuable than a beautiful view. It’s also the silence and a moment to slow down. Even if you don't notice it immediately, I believe something about that quietly heals something in you.

There was definitely something special about this village. It had maybe one small shop, and even the hotel I was staying in felt quiet. Everything seemed peaceful, yet somehow full of life at the same time. It's difficult to explain, but I was completely sold.

Before heading back to my room, I visited the Jaun Waterfall and the Cantorama. By then, it was getting really dark, so I returned to my room, opened the windows wide and fell asleep to the sound of the waterfall echoing through the entire village.

Jaun wasn't even on my original itinerary. The only reason I stopped there was because my final bikepacking destination was the highest mountain pass in the Fribourg region - Jaunpass. But once I'd arrived, it felt like a shame not to explore the village a little more.

So the obvious solution was to sacrifice a bit of sleep, wake up at 5 a.m., and hike up to Burgruine Bellegarde. The morning was wrapped in fog, visibility was poor, and I wasn't expecting much from the drone footage. Funnily enough, the moment I reached the ruins, I realised I couldn't have asked for better conditions.

Standing on top of the hill, watching the village slowly emerge from the mist while listening to the familiar sound of the waterfall below felt like stepping into a fantasy novel. The clouds drifted through the valley right in front of me, wrapping themselves around the hillsides. Every now and then, the sun would break through the fog, lighting up different parts of the landscape before disappearing again. It was one of the most magical places I'd visited on the entire trip, and I couldn't believe I'd almost skipped it. I promised myself I'd come back to explore more of the surrounding trails.

Eventually, my stomach started rumbling, so I headed back down to the village for breakfast before setting off towards the highest point of my bikepacking journey - Jaunpass.

The climb was beautiful, but absolutely brutal on my legs. Dragging nearly 18 kg of luggage uphill certainly didn't help, although the generous amount of cheese I'd eaten that morning probably saved my life. After finally reaching the top, it was time for the greatest reward cycling has to offer: the descent. Terrible amount of effort for about three minutes of pure fun. But I can't complain, it was still worth it.

The ride wasn't over yet, though. I still had another 50 kilometres to cycle before reaching Fribourg, where the bikepacking part of my journey would finally come to an end.

Not even an hour after leaving Jaunpass, I rode straight through what looked like a harmless wet patch on the road. It wasn't water. It wasn't even mud. It was farmyard manure. It ended up all over my bike, my legs, my forearms and somehow even the top of my backpack. Let's just say I became desperate to find the nearest toilet. Unfortunately, I was far from the nearest town, and my only hope was a tiny bakery by the roadside.

The plan was simple: buy enough snacks to earn the lady's trust, then ask if I could use the toilet in my very broken German. I bought three packets of biscuits, smiled as politely as I could, and finally built up the courage to ask. The lady didn't speak a word of English, but she immediately waved for me to follow her into the back of the bakery. She showed me to a tiny staff toilet, and honestly, I'd never been happier to see one. The smell of manure had been following me for the last hour, and I couldn't wait to wash it off. After cleaning myself up, I thanked her in at least three different languages, demolished one of the packets of biscuits, and continued towards Fribourg.

The ride itself was beautiful, with Lac de la Gruyère stretching out on my left for much of the way. I thoroughly enjoyed it despite the headwind. However, about 10 kilometres before the finish line, I completely ran out of energy. I pulled over, lay down on a patch of grass, and opened another packet of biscuits.

A few moments later, I heard a motorcycle stop behind me. I looked over to see a man giving me a thumbs-up and asking if I was okay. For some reason, it made me laugh. I think I just realised how ridiculous I must have looked, lying on the side of the road with my bike and bags scattered all over the place. I smiled, assured him I was fine, and he rode off with a smile of his own. I'd already felt incredibly safe travelling through Switzerland, but moments like that made me feel genuinely welcome. I really appreciated how kind people were, even towards complete strangers like myself.

After giving my poor bum a well-deserved break, I cycled the final 10 kilometres into Fribourg. There, I said goodbye to my bike and handed it back to the hotel staff. From that moment on, I'd be looking for hidden gems mostly on foot.

I finally checked into a stunning apartment at Hotel de la Rose in the heart of the city around 6pm. At that point, all I wanted in life was again - a hot shower and a comfortable bed.

After catching up on a bit of admin, I had the entire afternoon free to explore the capital of the Fribourg region.

Despite the rainy weather, my first impression was really positive. The city wasn't too busy, and the overall atmosphere reminded me a lot of Bristol, where I lived for a short month. Both cities are built around a river, full of steep streets, beautiful historic architecture, and iconic bridges. After days of cycling through peaceful countryside, arriving in Fribourg felt like a change of pace without losing the sense of calm. The city was full of history, and every turn seemed to reveal a completely different perspective.

Naturally, I started my walk at St. Nicholas Cathedral, which felt like the heart of the city. Apparently, you can climb the tower for one of the best panoramic views over Fribourg, but unfortunately I'd arrived just after it had closed.

From there, I made my way down to the Lower Town and crossed the iconic Bern Bridge, the last remaining covered bridge in Fribourg. Funnily enough, earlier that morning, while walking back from breakfast, I'd met a lovely lady who struck up a conversation with me. Her English wasn't great, but she was determined to tell me that I absolutely had to visit the Bern Bridge because there were beavers there. Unfortunately, she didn't know the English word for a "beaver," so instead she started acting one out. She mimicked the animal with such commitment that I couldn't stop laughing while desperately trying to work out what she meant. We were both laughing so much that it completely made my morning. Naturally, after that conversation, I had no choice but to visit the bridge. Sadly, I didn't encounter any beavers, which was a bit of a shame.

Afterwards, I wandered through the beautiful Lower Town before making the climb up to the Chapelle de Lorette. It was quite a hike, but absolutely worth the effort. From up there, I could see the city from a completely different perspective, with St. Nicholas Cathedral standing proudly above the rooftops.

Before heading back, I climbed the small viewing tower next to the chapel for one last look over the city. Then it was time to return to my apartment, plan the next stage of the journey, and get ready for four days back in the mountains.

Today started at a much slower pace. I had a relaxed breakfast, checked out of my hotel in Fribourg, and spent a little while working from a café near the train station. Around 1 p.m., I caught a coach to my next destination - Schwarzsee.

I can't lie, I was buzzing to get back into the mountains. As much as I'd enjoyed my time in the city, it's never somewhere I want to stay for more than a couple of days. I missed waking up to birds chirping outside my window and the smell of wild mint. About an hour later, I was back where I belonged, and my jaw immediately hit the floor.

Schwarzsee is a beautiful alpine lake nestled in the foothills of the Fribourg Alps. Its name literally means "Black Lake," which is a reference to the dark reflections created by the surrounding forests. The weather couldn't have been better, so after checking into Hostellerie am Schwarzsee, I headed straight back outside.

I started with the Breccaschlund trail, a beautiful loop overlooking the lake. Unfortunately, part of the route was closed, so after a quick look at the map, I decided to take the nearest alternative. I wanted to save some energy for tomorrow, so instead of completing the full hike, I climbed up to Riggisalp before looping back around the lake.

The trail was absolutely stunning, especially as the sun began to set. I came across at least five 10/10 benches, the coolest water fountain in the world, and a mysterious dragon statue perched on top of a rock. I had absolutely no idea why it was there but it made me curious.

After finishing my 12 km hike, I got back to my hotel room and immediately googled the story behind the dragon statue. As it turns out, Schwarzsee has quite a dark legend. To keep it very short, there was once a good lad called Bernhard Riggi. He was wealthy but still very humble. Unfortunately, his son was a complete knob who had no respect for nature and believed he was better than everyone else. His behaviour angered the dwarfs who protected the valley so much that they abandoned it. With no one left to care for the land, disaster struck. A huge landslide, followed by a violent storm destroyed the valley and that is how Schwarzsee was created. And if that wasn't dramatic enough, a dragon later emerged from Mount Kaiseregg and began terrorising the valley. Thankfully, another good lad named Remigi came along, defeated the dragon, and banished it into the lake. There’s always a hero, isn’t there.

But what about the statue, though? Well, apparently, according to the legend, that was the exact rock the dragon leapt from before disappearing beneath the water.

Finding that out afterwards somehow made the whole hike even more enjoyable. It was fun to connect the dots, and the landscape felt alive thanks to the stories that had been passed down for generations.

What a perfect bedtime story to end the day, isn’t it?

This was the first day the weather became a proper challenge. Don't get me wrong, the heat during the first few days of the trip had been relentless, but getting caught on a mountain in a thunderstorm is an entirely different story.

The plan was to hike up Kaiseregg, and I was genuinely excited about it. Unfortunately, the forecast wasn't looking promising. It only showed heavy rain, but after studying the maps, I couldn't be completely sure the conditions wouldn't become dangerous. So I decided to play it safe. Instead of committing to the summit, I planned a route that would always keep me within about fifteen minutes of a mountain hut, just in case I needed to bail. Thankfully, Switzerland has mountain huts everywhere, and on that day, I was very grateful for them.

As I climbed higher, the wind picked up noticeably, and my weather app showed a storm moving in my direction. I decided it wasn't worth the risk and gave up on the idea of summiting Kaiseregg.

Up until that point, I'd probably seen around twenty cows and about zero people on the trail. So imagine my surprise when I walked into one of them mountain huts to eat my lunch and found an entire Swiss family. About ten or twelve people, sitting around the table together. For a brief moment, I genuinely thought I'd just walked into somebody's house, so I awkwardly asked whether it was okay for me to sit down. Nobody spoke a word of English. In fact, it didn't even sound like German or French. I reckon they were speaking one of the local Swiss German dialects from the Schwarzsee region.

Thankfully, body language is pretty universal. One of the women smiled, gave me a thumbs-up, and invited me to join them. There was a slightly awkward silence at first, but then a dog wandered over and rested its head on my lap. Naturally, I gave it all the attention it deserved. The atmosphere immediately became much more relaxed. A few moments later, I overheard someone say, "Pippi Langstrumpf." Considering I was sitting there with two long, red braids and freckles, I figured they were almost certainly talking about me. And... Fair enough. That’s actually pretty accurate. I grabbed my braids, repeated "Pippi Langstrumpf," and everyone laughed. After that, we somehow managed to have a brief conversation using a mixture of smiles, gestures, and my very questionable German.

I love how people in Switzerland almost always make an effort to talk to you, even when you don't share the same language. It's easy to take English for granted, and moments like these remind me how many connections I've probably missed out on simply because I never put enough effort into learning German at school.

After lunch, I checked the weather one last time and decided I should head back down before the rain caught up to me. I'm happy to report that my mission failed succesfully :) Thankfully, my Mammut rain gear passed its first real test, and not a single drop made it through to my base layers.

I do have to admit, though, Schwarzsee looked even better in the rain than it had the day before under blue skies. Sure, it was windy, cold and miserable, but there's something special about mountains wrapped in mist that makes me feel like I've stepped into a fantasy novel and might have to fight a dragon at any moment.

I finished much earlier than usual, so I rewarded myself with some time in the hotel's sauna. And if you've ever come back from a long hike in miserable weather, you'll know just how nice it feels to warm up again. It's always the little things that make me unreasonably happy after a long day outdoors. The only thing missing was a proper cup of Yorkshire tea with milk before bed.

But I suppose you can't have it all, can you?

I can't lie, I was quite sad to leave Schwarzsee. It felt like I still had unfinished business there, especially after bailing on yesterday's hike. I could easily have spent another day exploring the area, but I needed to make it to Charmey before it got completely dark.

I checked out of the hotel fairly late because I was giving an interview for the local newspaper, so by the time I finally started hiking, it was already 11 a.m. To make matters even better, I managed to take a wrong turn almost immediately and lost another thirty minutes.

The plan was to hike from Schwarzsee up to La Berra and then descend all the way to Charmey. I already suspected I probably wouldn't have enough time to complete the entire route. Filming along the way takes far longer than people might think, and that definitely isn't helped by my exceptional talent for missing every turn I'm supposed to take.

Either way, I decided not to rush. I'm not out here to tick places off a list. I just wanted to enjoy the journey, take in everything around me and most importantly - find places that feel and look special.

The weather was still gloomy, with low clouds and occasional showers, but that didn't stop me from enjoying every minute of hiking through the Swiss Prealps.

The trail itself was an absolute joy to hike. It gently traversed wide, meadow covered slopes, where every turn seemed to reveal another ridge stretching into the distance. Just when I thought I'd seen the best view of the day, the path would wrap around the hillside and open up to an entirely new panorama of rolling mountains on the other side. It felt as though the landscape kept unfolding in front of me, one layer at a time. Every now and then, the trail disappeared into cool, quiet forests before opening up again to sweeping views across the hills. It felt like I was constantly moving between completely different worlds, yet each one was just as beautiful as the last.

The trails passed traditional chalets, flower-filled meadows and grazing cows, with barely another hiker in sight. It never felt lonely, though. The mountains had a strange way of making solitude feel comforting rather than empty. With every passing day, I could feel myself becoming more relaxed. My mood seemed to improve a lot. I stopped worrying about sticking to the plan, stopped stressing over the little things, and started appreciating how lucky I was just to be out there.

About thirty minutes before reaching the summit of La Berra, I realised it was already 7 p.m. The signpost showed another two hours of hiking down to Charmey, so I reluctantly accepted that it was time to pick up the pace if I wanted to make it to the hotel before the kitchen closed.

The funny thing was, by this point in the trip, I was so relaxed that even when things didn't go according to plan, they never really felt like problems anymore. I'd stopped trying to control every detail and simply learned to adapt.

I arrived at the beautiful Romantik Hôtel l'Étoile at around 9 p.m., completely exhausted but incredibly happy to finally have a hot shower, a comfortable bed, and a proper meal waiting for me. After a quick chat, one of the waiters recommended the rösti with lamb and mushroom sauce. Now, I honestly can't tell whether it tasted so incredible because I'd just finished a 26 km hike or whether it was genuinely one of the best meals I've ever eaten. Probably both. Although, in fairness, I can literally eat cold beans straight out of a tin, so I'm not exactly difficult to impress. Either way, it was hands down the best meal I'd had in Switzerland so far. 

After dinner, I headed back to my room and had the best night's sleep of the entire trip.

My original plan was to take it easy, finish my journey in Charmey and get to Zurich relatively early. My train from Fribourg was leaving in about ten hours, my body was still aching from yesterday, and the weather... well, mediocre to say the least. I had every excuse in the world to be lazy. But I had made myself a promise, hadn't I?

After breakfast, I made up my mind and decided to hike the Gastlosen Tour, often referred to as the Swiss Dolomites. Those sharp limestone peaks had been catching my eye every time I’d be flying my drone in the area. I knew I'd regret it if I didn't at least try to see them up close. So I caught a coach from Charmey to Jaun, took the chairlift up the mountain, and began the 11 km loop.

The first few kilometres were already beautiful, but nothing prepared me for what came next. As I approached Chalet du Soldat, the landscape completely changed. The jagged limestone walls of the Gastlosen suddenly dominated the horizon, rising dramatically above the soft green meadows below. It was one of those views that genuinely stopped me in my tracks. I simply stood there, taking it all in.

Then the sun broke through the clouds, casting shadows that slowly drifted across the hillsides. The wind would ocasionally pick up and send waves through the alpine meadows beneath the towering cliffs. The contrast between the rugged rock faces and the gentle landscape below made the whole place feel almost unreal. For what felt like the hundredth time during this trip, my jaw hit the floor. I couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the hike.

I honestly can't explain how glad I was that I had kept my promise and made the effort to come here, despite being short on time. The trail eventually disappeared back into the forest, and from there I picked up the pace, determined to make it back down in time for my journey to Zurich. I caught a coach back to Fribourg and boarded my train. For the first time all week, I realised the trip was almost over.

On the way back to Zurich I thought to myself - I did it. I survived the trip, wohoo!

I had arrived in Switzerland feeling anxious about the project, wondering whether I'd be able to capture everything well enough and find the gems. And now, I was leaving feeling recharged, grateful, and happier than I’ve been in a long time.

Somewhere along the way, I completely forgot about trying to film everything perfectly. The line between work and travel slowly blurred, and although I was still giving the project everything I had, it never took away from simply enjoying where I was. I don't think I realised how badly I needed this trip until it was almost over. Life became wonderfully simple again. I started noticing the little things that usually pass me by. The smell of grass on a warm summer evening, a beautiful sunset after a long day on the trail, or how incredible a good meal tastes after ten hours of hiking.

Searching for all these hidden gems also made me realise something else: the memories I treasure most are almost never the ones from the most famous places or  the most breathtaking viewpoints. They're the moments that simply felt real. The kindness of strangers, getting stranded on a cowfield, that little bakery in the middle of nowhere or a banging pizza after an exhausting hike. Those are the moments I remember most vividly.

For me travelling or being in the outdoors has never really been about dramatic peaks or ticking another destination off a list. It's always been about slowing down and stripping life back to its essentials, so that I appreciate things I normally take for granted. That's what travel really is - a change of perspective. It doesn't matter whether you're standing on top of a famous mountain or sitting in a Swiss chalet in the middle of nowhere. Go to places that teach you something about your own life. Do the things that genuinely excite you, not the things you feel you're supposed to do. It's okay if your plans fall apart. It's okay if the journey goes off script. Sometimes those unexpected moments become the very reason you'll remember the trip for years afterwards.

Switzerland, as a whole, also turned out to be one of the safest countries I've ever travelled through as a solo woman. So, naturally, I decided to celebrate the end of my adventure with a couple of pints of Guinness in a local bar while watching a football match. Was it a little sad to do it alone? Maybe. Did I care? Absolutely not because I'd just finished one of the most memorable adventures of my life and had an absolute blast.

I flew back to Kraków the following morning.

I was sad that the journey had officially come to an end, but I already knew one thing for certain - I'd be back soon.