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Precarious formations of snow balance on the branches of pine trees, dark green needles force a way through their blanket. An anthracite grey road twists and weaves though the sea of those trees, separated by small patches of brilliant white. Roads lead deep into endless tunnels, to open back out again into thick foggy cloud. This is the line of altitude at which the ice forms and snow settles above, but below is green and thriving. Driving through this line, the landscape immediately turns from kind and welcoming to foreboding and entirely frozen. It is two days before Christmas, fully stocked with food, water and a sense of adventure. Switzerland - my first experience of such a wonderfully harsh environment – yet I feel entirely safe with a friend in my 20 year old self-converted camper van. Having said goodbye to the motorway 40 minutes earlier, the roads seem to be getting narrower, the altitude increasing at an astonishing rate. We begin passing other vehicles much less frequently, perhaps they know what we are about to find out. The temperature is plummeting, -4 degrees. Altitude 1000m. In an instant, what was a clear path is now obliterated with snow falling thick and fast. Two inches already on the floor. With the incline increasing, I am watching the speedo dip and the revs and temperature guages rise. Third and even second gear no longer an option, reluctantly I put the van into first, feeling it scream its unwillingness to comply in such conditions. Gentle turns of the steering wheel seem to be having little impact on direction, turning it more aggressively is only just keeping us on track. I am panic stricken and entirely unprepared for such an adverse change in weather, and silently praying for somewhere to pull over and assess the situation. The road straightens out, but still slopes into the sleepy town of Rona. A river runs along the right-hand side with bridges to access beyond. Through the dense curtain of ice on the window, I can make out a small black and white campervan drawing on a road sign, indicating anything from a car park where campers are allowed, to a campsite with all the amenities you could wish for. I turn the wheel to cross over the small wooden bridge to no avail, the van skids out at the back and I jackknife, blocking both sides of the road. I’m generally on course to make the corner if only I can get any traction on the frozen sheet beneath me. Other road users dutifully wait behind and in front, no doubt having seen many foreign drivers ill-prepared for the snow do exactly as I am doing. A few seconds on the road melts the ice a little under the tyres, just enough to get some grip and make another attempt at turning, this time successfully. By now there is almost a foot of snow on the ground. Luckily, we are greeted by a fully-fledged campsite, with the luxury of running water and an electricity supply. The issue is that there are two more corners required to get onto the site. The sun has fallen so fast I have only just realised that it’s almost dark, the pink hue in the sky behind the mountains fading quickly. Someone has started ploughing tracks and we wait with bated breath watching the snow almost entirely fill in the path just made. Temperature -6 degrees. Altitude 1400m. It is only now as we begin to feel at ease that I notice the ‘CASH ONLY’ sign in the window, and our own distinct lack of Swiss currency… we aren’t supposed to stop here after all.