Where Cossacks Crossed the Alps
By MARCIA R. LIEBERMAN; MARCIA R. LIEBERMAN is the author of "The Outdoor Traveler's Guide to the Alps," due this fall from Stewart, Tabori & Chang.
Published: March 17, 1991
IN the mountainous cantons of Schwyz, Uri and Glarus, in the heart of Switzerland, an unusual hiking route is linked to an astonishing historical episode. In this rugged landscape, Field Marshal Aleksandr Vasilyevich Suvorov, considered the most brilliant of all Czarist generals, carried out one of the most extraordinary feats in either the Alps or the history of warfare -- a sort of late 18th-century Dunkirk achieved without rescuers. As an American writer, J. T. Headley, put it in 1845, Hannibal's exploits were "mere child's play beside it."
Suvorov had forced Napoleon's troops from northern Italy, and in the fall of 1799 he was under orders to march to Zurich to join the allied armies and drive the French out of Switzerland. Upon reaching central Switzerland, however, Suvorov's army was nearly trapped by the French. After ferocious fighting across the St. Gotthard Pass, his troops were hungry, exhausted and nearly barefoot. But Suvorov escaped encirclement by leading this army of 18,000 soldiers and 5,000 Cossack horsemen over three alpine passes in 10 days. He was then 70 years old.
If 200 years have obscured the memory of Suvorov in the west, that is not so in the Soviet Union (there is a Suvorov museum in Leningrad and a military academy in Moscow that bears his name) or in this remote part of Switzerland, where the name of Suvorov is often found, designating a house, a path or a bridge. The appearance in these mountains of an immense army of Russians astonished the farmers. (The Cossacks, who wore long coats and long beards, were even more exotic.) The fascination with Suvorov continues today among the people who live in this terrain and who can best appreciate what he achieved. His legend is enhanced by what is known about the field marshal's behavior: he wore a peasant's rough linen shirt rather than a fine uniform, often slept on straw like his men and shared their plain food.
Suvorov and his army marched 62 miles from Altdorf to Rueun; last August we hiked 26 miles along the trails that follow Suvorov's route. Properly speaking, the route begins at the St. Gotthard Pass, where the Russians forced the French over the pass and across the Teufelsbrucke (Devil's Bridge), then a narrow span across the granite-walled chasm of the Reuss River. You can descend from the road to see the reconstructed bridge and a Russian-language memorial carved in the rock.
We picked up Suvorov's tracks in Altdorf, about 38 miles from Lucerne, a small town in the heart of William Tell country: here Tell supposedly shot the apple on his son's head. Here Suvorov suffered a shock, the first of many surprises awaiting him. Because of poor intelligence from his Austrian allies, the field marshal was unaware that he would find no passage northward along the Urnersee -- only sheer cliffs plummeting into this beautiful, fjordlike lake. (A road is now cut into the rock.) Moreover, the French had removed all boats. Suvorov decided instead to cross the Chinzig Chulm (or Kinzig Kulm) Pass northeast of Altdorf to the Muotathal Valley in order to march north.
The Russian army had to trudge every foot of the way; at Altdorf we hopped aboard the P.T.T. (post office) bus for the 15-minute ride to Brugg, just beyond the village of Burglen (said to be the birthplace of William Tell). The cable car from Brugg to Biel saved us several hours of climbing. Our trail, well blazed, led through meadows toward a long, rocky ridge. We reached the pass in about an hour, unpacked our sandwiches and sat down in the meadows to admire a sweeping view of craggy mountains streaked with glaciers.
We were alone with the wind, the flowers and a couple of cows intent on their feed. Beyond the pass we found a stretch of karst, a curious landscape of permeable limestone, eroded into furrows and hollows. The grass was dotted with color: blue bells, purple thistles, buttercups. Beyond this, we passed a little lake surrounded by wild rhododendron (Alpenrosen). Finally our path descended from this wild and lovely place to a paved road.
At the hamlet of Liplisbuol is a restaurant, from which one can phone for a taxi. However, we had fallen in with a local couple out for a day's ramble in the mountains and followed them on the Fussweg, the footpath down to the village. This extends partly along the paved road, then takes shortcuts through the woods. It is a long and tiring walk; most Suvorovians today should avail themselves of the taxi to descend to the Muotathal.
Approaching Hinterthal, a simple village on the banks of the Muota River, we passed the house where Suvorov was quartered on Sept. 27-28, 1799. The Russian column was so long that the rear had scarcely left Altdorf when the front reached the Muotathal. We had shortened our hike with the bus ride from Altdorf to Brugg and the cable car to Biel; they had had no time to rest since crossing the St. Gotthard only a few days earlier.
Here in the Muotathal, Suvorov received dreadful news: the French Marshal Massena had defeated the allied army at Zurich and was advancing with 80,000 troops on several fronts toward Suvorov. The Russians were, in fact, nearly trapped. Suvorov, who had never been defeated, decided to force his way over the Pragel Pass.