If you look at the known wind forecasts from Lake Uri, they report a moderate twelve to 14 knots from the south. But alarm bells are ringing for anyone who knows the Reuss valley in Uri a little better. Lake Uri is located in a striking valley, which is also known to many people because of the north-south connection through the Gotthard tunnel. And just like many a tourist, the Föhn storm also finds its way through the Alps this way. The humid south wind climbs the Alps from the south and then rushes down through the Reuss Valley with full force. In the process, the air warms up by one degree Celsius per 100 metres of altitude (for all weather fanatics: dry adiabatic temperature gradient) and becomes a dry, warm downdraft - so much for the theory.
Balz Müller on the hunt
Not a breath of wind is blowing as I nervously pack my beloved 3.3 sail and small waveboard into my van in the cool dawn at my home on Lake Biel. The ignorant surfer wouldn't understand the world, but less than 100 kilometres from my home spot, the foehn storm is already blowing at over 100 km/h. On the car radio they are talking about a strong, locally stormy foehn. I drive tensely towards the foehn wall - that's the name of the band of clouds created by the clouds building up from the south over the Alpine ridge. Occasional foehn fishtails push over the ridge and the wisps of blown storm clouds glow in all colours with the rising sun. I marvel at this apocalyptic picture through the windscreen. In thick fog, I slowly approach the foot of the first mountain range.
Still no leaves are moving and nobody would think of a surfing day. I drive into the Seelisberg tunnel with a queasy feeling, wondering whether this foehn storm is only blowing in my imagination. The almost ten-kilometre-long tunnel stretches endlessly deep under the rock. But even from a distance I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and before I reach daylight, gusts of wind are already shaking the van. A moment later, I find myself on the viaduct on the steep rock face of the Reuss valley. My fingers cling tightly to the steering wheel and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on the lane instead of the boiling waters of Lake Uri.
The first rays of sunshine light up countless whitecaps as I arrive at the already full gravel car park. The peace and quiet has come to an end. A wild pack of adrenaline junkies are struggling to get their surf equipment out of the cars undamaged. The foehn whips across the Isleten mountain stream delta at over 120 km/h, and even its pebbles roll and fly. The imposing, metre-high wind puffs on Lake Uri in particular - also affectionately known as the water devils - give the impression that they really want to swallow us surfers from the surface of the water!
One such water devil swirls directly towards me as I frantically throw myself into the water. After just a few metres on the board, the storm rips my rig out of my hand and I - immediately surrounded by white - cling to my board and hope that my equipment and I don't get sucked away! The very cold Urnersee water is now slowly flowing down my back and my adrenalin level rises in a flash to my beloved survival mode. Fortunately, these crazy gusts of wind, as fast as they come, disappear again in no time. But not the persistent foehn storm, which, with an average wind of well over 40 knots, causes nasty forearm cramps after just a few minutes. I love being powerless against the incredible natural elements. I have the feeling that I have good control of the wind and my equipment, but immediately afterwards the hairdryer rips the boom of my smallest sail out of my hand without restraint and teaches me otherwise. Madness, I love it, and I'm by no means the only one
More than a dozen wild surfers fight with fascination against the oldest wind in Uri called the Föhnwind. It's a unique spectacle that you can marvel at up close at the Isleten creek delta. And it not only lures us surfers out of our holes, but also lots of spectators and photographers. One of these crazy guys with a camera is Roger Grütter. An incredibly passionate photographer who is not afraid to fight the gale force winds to take breathtaking pictures up close with his lens.
So there I am, like a gladiator in battle with my smallest sail - the 3.3 Severne Freek, completely open - on Lake Uri and I can't move forwards or backwards. I just stand there in the water and marvel at the concentrated power of nature! I come back to shore with a huge grin on my face, jump off the board and Roger - standing up to his knees in the water - shows me a picture on his camera that I dream about at night. So on the evening of this stormy day, I lie in bed dead tired and my head is still buzzing from the wild roar. My whole body aches and, smiling at the blisters on my hands, I fall into a sleep full of wild stormy windsurfing dreams. The next day my head is still spinning from all the crazy jumps, rotations and hard charges. I can't get enough of it and am already impatiently longing for the next adrenaline rush.
