'The forest had gone': the storm that moved a mountain

On a small ledge in the Swiss mountains, 200 people were celebrating the end of a summer football tournament. As night fell, they had no idea what was comingIn the wake of a natural disaster, certain metrics are used to categorise the event: the buildings destroyed; the cost of repair to the nearest million; a single number for the loss of human life. Yet these figures obscure the truth of such events. They make the outcome seem fixed, somehow proportionate. But disasters are chaotic. Their extreme violence magnifies the consequences of every decision: to stay or to move; to run or to hide. Things could have turned out another way. And how would we talk about them then?In Locarno, Switzerland, on the northern shore of Lake Maggiore, lies the mouth of the Maggia river. Follow it north-west and it winds past sandy, tree-shaded beaches, through rocky gorges and into a broad, glacial valley where, for much of the year, long waterfalls drop down forested mountainsides. Just over 20 kilometres upstream, at the foot of the Pizzo di Brünesc mountain, the river splits in two. This is the upper Maggia valley. To the west runs Val Bavona, with its historic villages of stone-roofed houses. To the east, equally steep and green, is Val Lavizzara. And in the upper reaches of Val Lavizzara, at an altitude of 1,000 metres, is Campo Draione. Continue reading...