In the Bernese Oberland, the village of Kandersteg, home to roughly 1,300 people, lies in the shadow of a mountain that is slowly coming apart. Above the village, the Spitze Stei rock formation—a massive wedge of limestone and dolomite—has been showing signs of movement for years. If it were to collapse, geologists estimate the resulting landslide could be twice the size of the one that buried parts of Blatten in May 2025.
The threat is not hypothetical. The mountain is under constant surveillance, with sensors tracking displacement and seismic activity. Authorities have mapped potential impact zones and distributed leaflets detailing evacuation routes. They say that in the event of a major collapse, residents would have at least 24 hours' warning.
Yet the mood in Kandersteg is not one of fear, but of quiet acceptance. “You are aware that it’s happening, but not afraid,” says Brigitte Jüni, a local resident. “It’s nature and you never know.”
Rudolf Isler, who was born in the village, has watched rocks tumble from the slope for decades. “We are not afraid of the Spitze Stei rock,” he insists. “The problem here is about global warming and rising temperatures.”
Climate change is the driving force
Scientists agree. The underlying cause of the mountain’s instability is the changing climate. As glaciers retreat and permafrost thaws, water seeps into cracks in the rock, and the frozen ground that once held slopes together loses its grip. Switzerland, which has more Alpine glaciers than any other European country, lost four per cent of its glacier volume in 2023, following a six per cent loss the year before.
The danger is not limited to falling rock. A collapse could strike Lake Oeschinen, which lies directly below the formation, sending a wave of water and debris toward the village. The lake, a popular tourist destination, is itself a reminder of the region’s glacial past.
Greenpeace climate expert Nathan Solothurnmann warns that the problem will spread. “Maybe even one day we will have to abandon certain valleys, certain villages because it’s becoming impossible to live there,” he says. That prospect is not unique to Kandersteg; across the Alps, communities are grappling with similar risks, from Swiss ski resorts adapting to new hazards to the broader challenges of living in a warming mountain environment.
For now, Kandersteg remains a place of striking beauty, its steep valleys and towering peaks drawing hikers and climbers from across Europe. But the mountain above it is a reminder that the landscape is not static. The same forces that shaped the Alps over millennia are now being accelerated by human activity, and the consequences are being felt in real time.
Local authorities are not waiting for disaster. They have invested in early-warning systems and are working with geologists to understand the mountain’s behavior. The goal is to ensure that if the Spitze Stei does collapse, the village will be ready. As Isler puts it, “We live with the mountain, and we respect it.”
The situation in Kandersteg is a microcosm of a larger European challenge. From the melting glaciers that reveal long-lost remains to the art that fades as the environment changes, the Alps are a barometer of climate change. Whether Europe can adapt to these shifts will determine the future of many mountain communities.
