Our journey through Switzerland began in St. Gallen, a charming little town that turned out to be the perfect home base for everything we had planned. Switzerland had been high on my list for a long time, and once we arrived, it did not take long for me to understand why. The country was absolutely breathtaking and quickly became one of my favorite places we have ever traveled.

I had also learned something from our previous trips.

If you are going to Europe, at least make an attempt to look like you belong there.

So I came prepared.

I had mustard-yellow pants and a maroon hoodie, an outfit that in my mind had just enough of a European feel to say:

Yes, of course I belong here. I probably know where the train station is.

Sarah, apparently, had learned absolutely nothing.

She chose holey jeans.

Not slightly distressed jeans.

Jeans with actual holes in them.

And Switzerland was apparently not the country for that particular fashion statement.

I do not remember seeing one single Swiss person wearing ripped jeans during our entire trip. Not one. Sarah, meanwhile, walked around like she had personally introduced the concept to the country.

And people noticed. She got quite a few looks.

I like to think I was blending seamlessly into European society in my mustard pants while everyone silently wondered what unfortunate accident had happened to Sarah’s jeans.

And there was one very specific reason we were there.

This trip was for my 40th birthday, and apparently I had decided that turning 40 called for something a little more ambitious than cake and candles.

I had an agenda. A very heavy agenda.

At the very top of that list was Mount Säntis.

Before we ever left home, I knew I wanted to climb it. I had researched the hike, studied the route, prepared for what I was getting myself into, and had already decided that this was happening.

The idea had actually started a year earlier while watching one of my favorite shows, The Amazing Race. In one particular episode, the contestants traveled to the summit of Mount Säntis for one of their challenges. From the top, on a clear day, you can see across several surrounding countries.

The moment I saw it, something in my brain apparently said:

Well, obviously I need to do that someday.

So naturally, I planned an international vacation around climbing a mountain I had seen on reality television.

Sarah, meanwhile, is deathly afraid of heights, so there was absolutely no chance she was joining me on the hike. She was also, understandably, slightly concerned about the fact that I planned to spend several hours climbing a mountain by myself.

So, in an effort to make her feel a little more comfortable with the whole idea, I came prepared.

I packed carabiners, rope, and a climbing harness.

Did I actually use any of it? Of course not.

Did I need it? Technically, no.

Were there a few sections where I probably could have used it? I mean… probably.

Actually, there may have been a couple of places where I should have used it.

But the important thing was that Sarah knew I had safety equipment with me, which made her feel better. What I actually chose to do with that safety equipment once I was on the mountain was apparently a separate issue.

And because she is an incredibly supportive wife, she took the gondola to the summit and waited for me at the top while I made the climb.

For approximately five hours.

That is love.

While Sarah was comfortably—or perhaps not so comfortably, given her feelings about heights—waiting at the summit, I was making my way up the mountain.

And I loved every second of it.

Well. Almost every second.

About a quarter of the way up, my body decided that climbing an 8,000-foot mountain was not quite challenging enough.

My period arrived.

Because apparently even my uterus wanted to participate in the hike.

What followed involved no bathroom, one very useful boulder, and a level of improvisation I had definitely not trained for.

Read more about my unexpected alpine emergency in Funny Moments.

Once my unexpected wilderness bathroom break was handled, I packed everything back up and continued climbing as though this was an entirely normal part of mountaineering.

The rest of the climb was challenging, beautiful, exhausting, and completely worth it. There were steep stretches, rocky sections, and plenty of moments where I had to pay very close attention to where I was putting my feet. But the farther I climbed, the more determined I became to finish what I had started.

Reaching the summit gave me one of the greatest feelings of accomplishment I have ever experienced while traveling.

Standing there knowing that I had actually climbed Mount Säntis was incredible.

I had made it through steep trails, rocky terrain, several hours of climbing, and an emergency menstrual pit stop behind a rock.

Honestly, at that point, the mountain never stood a chance.

It remains one of the most amazing things I have ever done.

Mount Säntis may have been the primary reason I chose Switzerland, but the country ended up giving us so much more.

From St. Gallen, we made our way to Lucerne, where we stayed for a night. Lucerne was exactly what you imagine when you picture Switzerland—beautiful water, historic streets, mountains rising in the distance, and scenery that somehow looked perfectly arranged in every direction.

And, of course, while we were in Switzerland, we had to try Swiss fondue.

It felt mandatory.

You cannot travel all the way to Switzerland and not order fondue.

So we did.

And when it arrived, I discovered something unfortunate.

I could not eat it. At all.

That particular culinary experience deserves its own story, so I will leave the details for the Funny Moments section.

From Lucerne, we headed toward Mount Pilatus. After getting our tickets and standing in line, we started talking to two other travelers nearby.

As it turned out, William and Carlos were the only other gay couple we had met during our time in Switzerland. They were from Florida, owned a candy store, and within a very short time, a random conversation in line turned into an unexpected friendship.

Instead of simply exchanging a few polite words and continuing on with our separate days, we ended up spending the entire day together.

We rode the gondola up Mount Pilatus, took in the incredible scenery, explored the mountain, and then somehow decided that the obvious next activity was the world’s longest outdoor toboggan run.

Because apparently one mountain adventure for my 40th birthday trip was not enough.

Sarah and I approached the toboggan run exactly the way we approach many things in life.

Completely differently.

Sarah took it slow. Very slow. Controlled. Cautious. Responsible.

Basically everything the people who designed the ride probably hoped customers would be.

I, on the other hand, saw a track running down the side of a Swiss mountain and apparently decided I had entered the Olympic trials.

Full speed ahead.

There was a lever that controlled how fast you went, and I treated mine primarily as decoration.

Down the mountain I went.

Faster and faster.

Having the absolute time of my life.

Then, near the end of the track, I started seeing signs.

SLOW DOWN.

Which seemed more like a suggestion than an instruction.

Did I slow down?

No.

Of course I did not.

In hindsight, perhaps I should have considered why there were multiple signs telling me to slow down.

Because immediately after those signs came a series of plastic flaps hanging across the track.

Apparently, they existed for people exactly like me.

People who had ignored all previous opportunities to make responsible decisions.

I hit them at full speed.

SMACK. Right in the face.

Well. That worked.

Turns out the Swiss had developed a very efficient braking system.

If the signs could not convince you to slow down, the mountain would simply slap some sense into you.

Sarah, meanwhile, arrived at the bottom at a perfectly reasonable speed, presumably with her dignity and facial features still intact.

It became one of those perfect travel days that could never have been planned—the kind where you meet complete strangers in line and, a few hours later, it feels like you have been traveling together all along.

The next day took us to Appenzell.

Sarah had done some research before the trip and discovered that we would be visiting during the time of year when the traditional cattle procession takes place, when cows are brought down from the mountains.

We thought this sounded amazing.

We also assumed it would be fairly obvious.

There would be cows.

There would be bells.

There would presumably be people.

How difficult could it possibly be to find?

Apparently, very.

We started walking in the direction we thought we needed to go.

And we walked.

And continued walking.

I honestly do not remember how long we wandered around looking for these cows, but eventually it became clear that we had absolutely no idea where we were going.

So we turned around and made our way back toward town.

We never saw a single cow.

Not one.

Somehow we had managed to travel to Appenzell specifically during a famous cattle procession and completely miss the cattle procession.

We had imagined this huge event that would be impossible to overlook.

Apparently, we underestimated ourselves.

After our unsuccessful cow hunt, we returned to our Airbnb in St. Gallen. The next morning, we picked up a rental car for the final adventure on my Switzerland list.

There was one small complication.

The car was a stick shift.

Which meant Sarah was driving.

Fortunately, she handled it incredibly well, especially considering she was navigating unfamiliar roads filled with twists, turns, mountains, and the added pressure of having me in the passenger seat knowing we had somewhere very specific to be.

Our destination was Guttannen, where we had pre-purchased tickets to ride the Gelmerbahn funicular.

The drive did not go exactly according to plan.

We got lost.

There were a few complications.

There may have been some stress.

And there was definitely a point when it became very clear that we were cutting things extremely close.

We finally arrived with something like five minutes to spare before our tickets were about to expire.

Nothing makes an already dramatic mountain railway experience more exciting than arriving as though you are completing the final leg of The Amazing Race.

We made it. Barely.

And once again, Switzerland delivered another adventure we would never forget.

The full story involving the rental car, the winding roads, getting lost, and our race against the clock deserves its own place in the Funny Moments section.

Looking back, Switzerland was everything I hoped it would be—and quite a few things I never could have planned for.

I went there with one very specific goal: climb Mount Säntis for my 40th birthday. That idea had been sitting in the back of my mind ever since I watched The Amazing Race the year before, and somewhere along the way it became something I needed to prove to myself I could do.

And I did.

But when I think about Switzerland now, I do not just think about standing at the top of that mountain.

I think about mustard-yellow pants and Sarah accidentally introducing ripped jeans to a country that clearly had not asked for them. I think about an unexpected stop behind a rock halfway up Mount Säntis, a fondue dinner that nearly ruined cheese for me forever, strangers we met in a gondola line who became friends for the day, cows that refused to participate in our Appenzell plans, and a toboggan run that quite literally smacked some sense into me.

None of those moments were on the itinerary.

And maybe that is exactly why I remember them so well.

Switzerland gave me the mountain I came to conquer, but it also gave me all the ridiculous, unexpected, completely unplanned moments that make a trip feel like ours.

I went there wanting to prove that I could climb an 8,000-foot mountain.

I came home knowing I could.

Everything else—the rock, the cheese, the cows, the questionable fashion choices, and being physically disciplined by a Swiss toboggan run—was just Switzerland making sure I had a good story to tell afterward.

Not a bad way to turn forty.