The Best Way to See Switzerland? Jump Into a River

Twenty summers ago, my husband, Matt, and I swam down the Aare River in Switzerland with a dog named Arcas. I don’t love dogs, which has always felt like a moral failing. But Arcas was special.

He belonged to one of our closest friends, August, who is Swiss German and was spending the year in Bern. Arcas was a puppy then, a rust-red farm dog with one ear up and one ear down who was a little afraid of the water.

Fed by the Bernese Alps, the Aare is known for being cold, fast, and milky blue. It runs through Bern, the capital of Switzerland, past the elegant domes of Parliament and the Gothic cathedral tower that anchors the medieval-era Old City, a UNESCO World Heritage site. We walked a distance upriver before jumping in to let the current take us, and Arcas ran alongside until his fear of being separated from us overcame his fear of the water, propelling him to swim into the river after us.

I learned to swim when I was five, and had swum in the Atlantic and the Aegean, the Caribbean and the Coral Sea. But swimming through an urban environment was novel. What I remember most is the swift embrace of that otherworldly blue, the communal buzz of people in the water, and the thrill of flying down the river with a puppy who looked at everything with new eyes. I did, too. It was the first time I’d seen a river so integrated into city life.

In the years since, I’ve swum in many more places, and written a book—Why We Swim (Algonquin Books, 2020)—about our human relationship with water. But that first experience with the Aare was so formative that I began to wonder about Switzerland’s robust river-swimming culture, and why it felt unlike anywhere else. And so in the summer of 2024, I set off for the country to swim in three of its rivers.

Photos by Julia Nimke

Every one of Switzerland’s great cities has a river to swim in—often on a lunch hour, sometimes even to commute. Dubbed “the water tower of Europe,” the country holds more than 6 percent of the continent’s freshwater reserves; the Rhine, Rhône, Po, Danube, and Adige rivers are all fed by water from the Swiss Alps, and several have their head-waters there. Switzerland’s status as the hydrographic center of Europe has influenced the foundation of cities from Bern and Basel to Zurich and Geneva, situating them on key trade routes and strategic crossings. It has also informed the country’s indelible river swimming history, which dates back more than 2,000 years.

But starting in the mid-19th century, Swiss rivers were corralled by massive dam construction, canalization, and other initiatives meant to boost industries. Narrowing and rerouting the rivers caused ecological damage, increasing habitat loss and the likelihood of flooding. Over the last several decades, projects to “correct the corrections” and restore waterways to more natural courses have become a priority. A return to river swimming has been an added benefit.

I landed in Zurich in mid-June, on the first truly hot day of the season. After a 12-minute train ride from the airport to downtown, it was an easy stroll over to Flussbad Oberer Letten, a public swimming facility located on the banks of the Limmat River, near the Swiss National Museum. Though it is relatively short, flowing roughly 22 miles from Lake Zurich before meeting up with the Aare, the Limmat runs through the heart of the city.

In the midday heat, sunbathers sprawled on wooden decks; when the scorch became unbearable, they got up, jumped off the diving board, and zipped by on the river, exiting only to do it all over again.

The Limmat is a success story, said Ruedi Bösiger, who directs river restoration and conservation projects for the World Wide Fund for Nature Switzerland. “There’s a balance between hydropower needs, clean water where you can swim, and reconnected floodplains downriver,” he told me. “It’s challenging, ongoing work. But we appeal to the sense of a river as a common good so everybody can use it.” In other words, the river culture I saw before me was hard won.

Photo by Julia Nimke

I’d left my rolling suitcase at Zurich’s main station; after changing and putting my clothes in a locker, I walked upriver to the farthest entry point on the club’s deck. As I stood on the stairs that led into the river, the current tugged at my calves: Let’s go! I plunged into the water and swam upstream to hold myself in place. I was suddenly, intensely awake, my body shaken free of jet lag, the sun winking every time I turned my head to breathe.

When I paused to tread, the current ushered me downstream to the exit by the main lifeguard office. The guards were friendly, asking me where I was from and giving tips on battling the flow. As we chatted, a fellow swimmer offered to take my picture. Then I walked back up to my original entry point for another round.

It turned out that 20 minutes of swimming against the current in a river juiced by three weeks of rain was plenty exhausting for a first foray. I climbed out, waved goodbye to the lifeguards, picked up my luggage, and got on the train to Basel, a little over an hour away. When I arrived at the Hotel Krafft, my hair was still damp. In my room overlooking the Rhine, a paisley-patterned dry bag was hanging on a hook, beckoning.

It was shaping up to be a two-river day.

Switzerland’s portion of the Rhine, which runs more than 230 miles from the Alps to the border with Germany, is a river of a totally different scale from the Limmat. Hundreds of people swimming in the same waterway as ferries, cruise boats, and the cargo ships that transport much of the oil and gasoline for Switzerland would seem to be a bad idea. But on a sizzling day in Basel, everyone gets in.

Doing so is a longstanding tradition. In the 15th century, nuns from Basel’s Klingental Abbey sought relief from the heat in the Rhine, and the practice of river swimming became widespread. After officials banned swimming in the Rhine’s open areas in the 19th century due to propriety, the Gesellschaft für das Gute und Gemeinnützige, or Society for Common Good, developed four bathing spots.

But by the 1970s, the water had long been polluted. More than a century earlier, textile-dye entrepreneurs established their first factories along a canal that dumped toxic waste into the Rhine. In 1986, a catastrophic spill and fire at an agrochemical factory sent 30 tons of poisonous materials into the river, turning it red. It was a signal event that led to rigorous safety controls at chemical plants around Basel.

The yearslong effort to clean up the water gave Basel a swimmable river. There is comprehensive daily water testing conducted by a state-of-the-art monitoring station. And every August on a designated day, the official Basler Rheinschwimmen welcomes thousands of people to swim together down the river safely. Today, swimming in the Rhine in Basel is permitted almost everywhere, except for port areas and hazardous zones around bridge pillars and the hydroelectric plant. The city even has its own river swimming guide, with tips on where to enter the water and how to pack a swim bag; the free BachApp has updated water levels and temperature, as well as a map with entry and exit points.

I, too, had safety considerations in mind when I arrived at the Rhine. By the time I jumped in, it was 5:30 p.m.—happy hour. A fevered chatter hung in the air, the daylight remained long, and swimmers shrieked their way downriver. Floating 10 feet away was my guide, Thomas Flatt, who wore a navy fisherman’s cap to keep the sun out of his eyes.

Photos by Julia Nimke

“Are you enjoying?” he asked merrily as he breaststroked over, a dry bag containing his belongings trailing behind. (Basel’s preferred style is the Wickelfisch, a fish-shaped swim bag that is made locally.) Then he pointed out the weidlinge, traditional flat-bottomed punting boats moored ahead, with a word of caution: “OK, now let’s watch out.”

Flatt, a trim, tanned 55-year-old with the teeth-forward grin of a movie star, is on the board of IG Rheinschwimmen, a volunteer association that advocates for safe public swimming in the Rhine. Swimming in the river, he explained, is a tradition deeply rooted in a Swiss culture that balances individual and collective responsibility.

“There’s a tendency in many societies for authorities to forbid or limit activities of their people, instead of getting organized and making it safer for them to make their own decisions. That’s why we created the association, to guard the rights of swimmers,” he said. Because the Rhine runs through Basel’s center, it serves as a major recreation area for the population of nearly 200,000, more than 30 percent of whom are international residents. It is a communal place for different parts of society to come together.

Flatt’s point was proven as we were joined on our half-hour swim by several of his friends, who included one Dutchman, two sisters who grew up just outside Basel, and a woman from Ohio who had been living in the city for more than two decades. Basel’s urban highlight reel was exhilarating at this time of day, as the high water swept us past the sun-drenched sidewalk cafés, the riverbanks humming with conversation and the clink of glasses. Though the swim itself mostly involved just floating with the current, we kept an eye on possible exit routes—ladders, stairs, and ramps are also marked on maps posted along the river—and emerged on the right bank before Dreirosenbrücke, the last bridge before the Port of Switzerland, lest we get flushed to France and Germany, whose churches were visible just beyond the bridge.

Before I’d even dried off, my new friends had ordered Aperol spritzes and bread, cheese, olives, and hummus from a riverside buvette, or seasonal pop-up kiosk. We pulled up chairs and discussed river swimming in other Swiss cities—the Rhône in Geneva and the Reuss in Lucerne, the Limmat in Zurich and the Aare in Bern. Everyone agreed that although each river scene had a different character, the everydayness of swimming was such that getting in the water was how you understood the soul of each place. And that caring for the river and ensuring access was part of that appreciation—a kind of communal duty.

Photos by Julia Nimke

The idea crystallized for me the next evening at the 125-year-old Rheinbad Breite swim club, where I met up with Barbara Zimmerli, one of Flatt’s friends, with whom I’d swum the day before. During a break between clouds, we walked upriver and floated back down to the club, which reopened last year after a major renovation. Zimmerli helped fundraise for the expansion that restored the bathhouse to its original footprint; it now spans two levels, with changing rooms, showers, lockers, a wintertime sauna, and wood-planked decks for sunbathing and hanging out after a river swim. Anyone can drop in and use the facilities for six Swiss francs ($7), the same price as citywide public pool entry.

Zimmerli lives just uphill from the club—I could throw a rock and hit her window. Over a glass of wine at the club’s restaurant, she told me how the rhythm of her days is dictated by the ships moving through the port, the horns warning swimmers downriver, the vicissitudes of wind and temperature and passing weather. On the opposite shore, starting from the beach just below the Museum Tinguely, the Basel-Stadt Sports Department offers lifeguard-supervised swims every Tuesday evening in July and August.

Then Zimmerli showed me a photo from a recent morning when her 15-year-old daughter put her things in a dry bag and swam down the river to class with her friend.

“It’s not something that she does all the time,” Zimmerli said. “But it’s such a nice way to get to school.”

Three days after I jumped in the Limmat and the Rhine, I set off for Bern, an hour south of Basel by train but higher in elevation and 15 degrees cooler, thanks to its position on the plateau between the Alps and the Jura Mountains. Given the city’s proximity to its namesake glacier in the Bernese Alps, the Aare River runs colder and faster here than the Rhine does in Basel. Its signature blue-green water is pristine. There are records of swimming in the Aare as early as 1721; today, the practice is on the official list of Switzerland’s living traditions.

I arrived on a dismal morning, but the Aare has its devotees no matter the weather. On the way to my hotel, I spotted a gentleman in swim trunks standing waist-deep in the river during a downpour, scrubbing water on his reddened arms and chest, with the stone arches of Parliament and the red-roofed government buildings an improbably grand backdrop. (Lore has it that swimsuits were once hung out to dry on the balcony of the Parliament building facing the river.)

The Aare curves around Bern in a hug, and Bern returns the favor by making it easy to swim. The Swiss capital has several free riverside swimming-pool complexes, including Lorrainebad, built in 1892, and Freibad Marzili, which dates to 1782. The latter, a sprawling expanse with cafés and a swimming channel that attracts as many as 10,000 people in summer, is considered the most beautiful river bath in Switzerland. Bern also has its own specialized duffel for Aare swimming, the äuä bag (äuä meaning “no way” or “you’re joking” in Bernese dialect). Public safety campaigns—“Aare You Safe?”—and signage everywhere prioritize strong swimming skills and knowledge of water conditions and exit routes. Every year in the late fall, a group of hardy swimmers can be found continuing the 20-year-old tradition of taking an ice-cold plunge in the Aare.

Though it wasn’t autumn during my visit, it did feel that way at times. The next day at Marzili, I eked out a mile in the chilly 50-meter lap pool, then walked 30 feet across the grass and dove into the Aare. A sign on the lawn indicated that the river was 15 degrees Celsius, or 59 degrees Fahrenheit; the pool wasn’t much warmer. Earlier, I’d watched as four people jumped in at one of the marked entry ladders just off the footpath that ran alongside the Aare. As they were whisked away to the Marzili exit ramp downriver, they screamed in delight.

Photo by Julia Nimke

The shouts of disbelief, the out-of-control laughter, the ferocious feeling of being alive—this was Swiss river swimming at its finest. But immersing in Swiss river life also meant feeling the undercurrent: the knowledge that the tradition is increasingly vulnerable to colossal shifts wrought by a warming climate.

“[As kids] we used to go to the mountains in the southwestern part of Switzerland and hike 30 minutes from the parking lot to the moraine,” said Stefanie Gubler, the head of the Swiss National Park Research Commission, whose focus is on biodiversity, climate change, and impact on ecosystems. “When I go up now, the glacier is gone. Snow is an issue, and the whole river system is suffering from that.”

The changes Gubler has observed swing wildly from one year to the next, from extreme heat, drought, and sediment buildup in the rivers to heavy rain, flooding, and rockfall from a destabilized landscape. The month of my visit was plagued by rain and flooding across Switzerland, which pushed most rivers to treacherous highs and filled them with debris.

My last day in Bern coincided with the return of sunny weather, and the arrival of my Swiss friend August and his wife, Jenny. We took a walk with August’s mother and her dog to the gardens of Elfenau Park. As we passed the glass-windowed Orangerie, Jenny reminded me that this was where our violinist friend Meesun played during a summertime concert series. Meesun had recently told me about the time she’d handed her instrument to a colleague after a performance and floated down the Aare with her dry bag to the train station. Then she got dressed, took the train to the airport, and flew home to Berlin.

Along the path to the Aare, dozens of dogs frolicked, with the snowcapped mountains in the background. We reminisced about Arcas. Later, August told me that when people take their dogs on rafts down the Aare, sometimes the dogs wear life jackets, too.

I thought then about the ways rivers are so core to the lived experience of this place. So many daily goings-on in Switzerland have a delightful, just-add-water version to them. But buoyancy isn’t effortless. The work of staying afloat, both literal and metaphorical, requires attention, care, and collective as well as individual responsibility. As do all things worth carrying on.

How to plan your own Swiss swimming trip

Zurich

Photos by Julia Nimke

Where to stay

Situated just outside of the city center on Adlisberg hill is the Dolder Grand. The historic hotel, with 175 rooms and suites, also displays more than 100 works from artists including Salvador Dalí, Joan Miró, and Takashi Murakami.

Baur en Ville opened in 1838 and was considered to be the first luxury hotel in Zurich; the building is now home to the Mandarin Oriental Savoy, located in the city’s Old Town. Its 80 rooms and suites—some with private rooftops—were redesigned in 2023.

What to do

The Freitag Tower, which houses the flagship store of Swiss fashion label Freitag, is made from 19 shipping con-tainers stacked on top of each other. Over in the Zurich Nord neighborhood, the converted remains of a defunct machine factory now serve as lattice-work surrounding MFO-Park, a public park where visitors can admire plants climbing the trellis-like steel walls.

Catch performances by the Philharmonia Zurich, Zurich Opera, and the Zurich Ballet at the main stage of the Opernhaus, plus comedy shows, musicals, plays, and children’s programs at its second studio, which is known as the Bernhard Theater.

Where to eat

Haus Hiltl, the world’s oldest continuously operating vegetarian restaurant, has been serving plant-based meals since 1898. Today, it counts several locations across Zurich, but the original outpost sits at Sihlstrasse 28. Visitors have the option of ordering à la carte or trying everything at the buffet.

A few blocks from the Opernhaus, the Sternen Grill serves simple, stellar German fare, including snappy sausages and homemade meatloaf.

Basel

Photos by Julia Nimke

Where to stay

Originally opened in 1681, the Grand Hotel Les Trois Rois is one of the oldest city hotels in Europe. It comprises 101 rooms and suites, a full-service gym, a bar, and two restau-rants. One of them, Cheval Blanc by Peter Knogl, holds three Michelin stars.

Boutique & Design Hotel Volkshaus Basel has 45 rooms and suites designed by Basel-based architecture firm Herzog & de Meuron. Its “Splash into the Rhine” package includes a breakfast buffet, loaded pub-lic transit card, and two swim bags, perfect for long days spent swimming on the Rhine, a mere two blocks away.

For an even closer option, the minimalist four-star boutique Hotel Krafft, where writer Bonnie Tsui stayed, is right on the Rhine.

What to do

Home to works by Louise Lawler and Vincent van Gogh, Kunstmuseum Basel is one of the most significant public art collections in Switzerland. Five minutes away on foot is Tinguely Fountain: In 1977, artist Jean Tinguely arranged 10 industrial sculptures in the middle of a fountain, and the water moves through them to mesmerizing effect.

The Basler Münster cathedral—first built in 1500—is a Basel landmark; its two towers offer some of the best views of the city. For $7, climb 250 stairs to the top.

Where to eat

Jakob’s Basler Leckerly is Switzerland’s oldest biscuit manufacturer, dating to 1753. Don’t miss its namesake Leckerly biscuits, made with cinnamon, clove, nutmeg, ground almonds, and candied citrus peel.

With two Michelin stars to its name, Stucki serves some of the best modern cuisine in Basel, thanks to head chef Tanja Grandits—think tofu topped with green tea labneh and shiso tempura, burrata with a tomato fritter, and raspberry tarts paired with yogurt tarragon mousse.

The 95-year-old Markthalle Basel has been a hub of com-munity life in the city since its opening. Now, its 35 restau-rants spotlight traditional foods from Afghanistan, Argentina, Thailand, Türkiye, and more.

Bern

Photos by Julia Nimke

Where to stay

The 99-room Schweizerhof is Bern’s oldest luxury hotel; conveniently, it sits right across from the central train station. The Sky Terrace grants visitors one-of-a-kind panoramic views of the Old City, a UNESCO World Heritage site.

The elegant Bellevue Palace is officially owned by the Swiss government, and as such, is the de facto hotel for visiting government officials. Book a room with majestic views of the Bernese Alps.

What to do

For $29, take a 90-minute tour of Bern’s Old City, including the “Kindlifresserbrunnen” (child-eater fountain) and spots frequented by physicist Albert Einstein and author Friedrich Dürrenmatt. Tours can be booked on the official Bern website.

Bern was the home of 20th-century painter Paul Klee; the Zentrum Paul Klee, which houses about 40 percent of his art, is located east of the city center. The Museum of Communication, which has exhibits on hacking, truth, memory, lying, and privacy, is also worth a stop.

Where to eat

Restaurant Zoe partners with local farm Hof am Stutz to deliver dishes such as king oyster mushrooms with fermented garlic, parsley, and buckwheat. In 2023, on top of its Michelin star, Zoe earned a Michelin Green Star for its commitment to sustainability.

The traditional Berner Platte consists of pork knuckle, ham, bacon, sauerkraut, bone marrow, beans, and potatoes. Locals head to Kornhauskeller Restaurant for the hearty dish, which is generally available September to May.

To get as close to the Aare River as possible without taking a dip, book a table at the Restaurant Terrasse outpost of Schwellenmätteli; it sits right on the riverbank.

Getting around Switzerland

Switzerland has an extensive public transportation system. With a Swiss Travel Pass, international visitors have unlimited access to all public transport in the country by boat, bus, and train