THE ENGADINE OUT OF SEASON 



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THE ENGADINE OUT OF SEASON. 

 By Marian H. Mason, F.R.H.S. 



As everyone knows, the Engadine has two " seasons": the winter for 

 invalids, and the summer for tourists. It would be quite superfluous 

 to write about a place so well known at those periods of the year. One 

 might as well write a description of Brighton. But the Engadine in the 

 spring, between the two seasons, is quite a different thing. The year before 

 last I spent the middle and end of J une and beginning of July, that is the 

 late spring, at Silvaplana, at the foot of the Julier Pass ; and though 

 there were several Germans there, I saw only three English people during 

 the whole time, though there were a few at other places in the neighbour- 

 hood. A few notes on the spring flowers of the high Engadine, seen by 

 so few, may therefore not be without interest. 



Leaving the unbearable heat of Florence on June 3, I came by way 

 of Milan, Lecco, and Chiavenna to Promontogno, about two hours' drive 

 up the Val Bregaglia. What a beautiful railway journey it is from Lecco 

 along the shore of Lake Como ! The day too was lovely, and the lake 

 so clear that, looking down into the water, one could sometimes see the 

 fish swimming about. 



All was green and fresh, but no wild flowers worth mentioning were 

 to be seen till we neared Chiavenna, where the rocks were covered with 

 pink Pinks and white Cistus. The Foxtail Saxifrage and Orange Lilies 

 which grow so abundantly at Colico were quite over, and were in their 

 last stage at Chiavenna. Here, however, the rocks were pink with the 

 blossoms of the cobweb Semjjervivum, now in its first bbom. I did not 

 remain long enough to find much else?- and went on to Promontogno, 

 which is a convenient place for waiting between the heat of Italy and 

 the cold of the Engadine. There I remained till the weather was warm 

 enough to go on to the Engadine. It is a most picturesque place. Three 

 hamlets lie at the top of a narrow valley, completely shut in by steep 

 overhanging mountains. The hamlet which contains the post-office, 

 diligence -office, and a good hotel, actually fills up the narrow end of the 

 valley. Two roaring torrents, one of them crossed by a high bridge, meet 

 exactly below the hotel, and, beautiful as they are to the eye, they are 

 deafening to the ear. It is difficult to sleep for the noise at night, 

 especially after heavy rains, and conversation has to be carried on at a 

 fatiguing pitch of voice. A further drawback to any prolonged stay is 

 that the amount of water which collects in this narrow valley raises 

 clouds of mist and steam from below, while the overhanging peaks 

 gather the clouds from above and bring down torrents of rain. For the 

 first few days of my stay, nothing could have been more beautiful than 

 the sunshine on mountains crowned with snow, clothed with Pines and 

 Larches further down, and below these with Chestnuts and other de- 

 ciduous trees. But for four days afterwards it not only rained con- 

 tinuously, but the clouds filled the valley and floated past and into the 



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