My breath is catching and my calves are on fire, but I can see the summit on the horizon. One more corner, and a panoramic vista materialises – so vivid it looks like a film set. Below is a lake of intense, almost unreal turquoise. In sunlight, it sparkles like a gemstone; in shadow, it turns to glass, a perfect mirror of the grey peaks that surround it on all sides, capped by silver glaciers.
I have been visiting this viewpoint and lake for three decades, first in a hiking backpack carried by my weary parents, then on my feet from the age of seven. It is nestled high in the Alps, in the little corner of Switzerland that was the scene of every childhood summer holiday. Other families dashed to the beach – we escaped to the mountains. The hidden lake and its surrounding hiking trails were old friends to whom we returned to bask in their magnificent tranquillity, rediscovering their secrets year after year.
Alas, the secret is out. Switzerland has always welcomed tourists, but those who chose to come to a place where there is nothing much to do except hike tended to be hikers. About five years ago that shifted. I’m not sure where the first video was posted, but almost overnight the lake caught the attention of the influencers of TikTok and Instagram. Such a unique and stunning backdrop proved irresistible. And if it can only be accessed by a winding path and 400m climb in which the thinness of the air will make inexperienced walkers light-headed, that just adds to its elusive value.
The result is an invasion. The narrow trail has become a motorway of selfie sticks, as the crowds document their personal journey for followers who apparently can’t bear to miss a second of the action. A quick Instagram search reveals thousands of videos, some with millions of views, all showing the same thing. You can track their footsteps (often not wearing proper hiking boots) and listen along as they provide real-time commentary in between gasps for breath.
The actual hiking bit appears to be an inconvenient distraction. At the cable-car station at the bottom, cautionary signs attempt to explain the etiquette of the mountains. Waving a selfie-stick about and not looking where you are going is dangerous. Be considerate to others and conscious of safety, especially when passing people walking in the other direction. No drones allowed. These rules are frequently sacrificed at the altar of content creation. Last summer my eight-year-old stepdaughters were nearly pushed off the path by an oblivious woman too focused on filming herself to notice them. She forgot to apologise.
I am grimly aware that I am part of the problem. Influencing has passed me by, but how many tourist hotspots have I visited, determined to get the perfect photo in front of the thing everyone else wants a photo of? Temples in Japan, stalactites in Vietnam, waterfalls in Argentina – I’ve too often been the mindless sightseer with a camera despised by locals. True, an alpine clifftop is more hazardous for careless posing than outside Notre-Dame or the Coliseum, but the principle is the same. And however flawless the lighting is, it doesn’t make any of us look good.
Returning to Switzerland again this summer, we have a plan. The hordes of lake-seekers aren’t interested in the array of breathtaking scenery on offer in the vicinity – if it’s not the exact panoramic view that will make them go viral, it’s worthless to them. The beauty of the surrounding mountains remains untrammelled and un-influencered. There are secret forests, alpine streams and caves to be explored in peaceful solitude. One trail even leads up to a pass from which you can survey the whole area from on high. Far across the valley, a turquoise gemstone glistens halfway up the mountain face. Here is the beloved lake, from a perspective most of its devotees will never see. Hello, old friend. It’s good to see you.
[Further reading: The poets trying to give AI taste]
This article appears in the 20 Aug 2026 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Special






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