After a week hiking the Swiss Alps, I surprised my wife with a yurt

We have a tradition, the three of us – my wife, a close friend and me – of going hiking around the first of August, the Swiss national holiday. The tradition has a rule: the week ends with a treat. A five-star hotel with a pool and a spa, booked as the reward for the hard days.

One year the week was the Alpine Passes Trail through the Valais, hut to hut from Les Haudères west towards Trient, and I had talked everyone into walking two stages a day. About 150 km and 8.7 km of climbing in six and a half days. Some days were brutal, others more relaxed, and a few days in the double stages were taking their toll. Nobody gave up. I kept them going with the promise of what was waiting at the end.

I had not booked the spa.

As we walked into Trient, I revealed the surprise: we would be staying in Mongolian yurts. To me it looked like a great way to finish a week in the mountains, cosier than some of the huts on the way. I thought they would kill me, and I could not understand why. What they had in mind was the pool. What I gave them was a round tent with a portable toilet outside.

They did not speak to me for a few hours. A cold drink improved the mood. A meal improved it more, and in the end all three of us went into the tent. My wife still tells everyone how great my surprises are.

I had anticipated that something might not go well. For the next night I had a spa reserved, a room in a literal mansion and a table at a Michelin-starred restaurant, and we spent the evening remembering the hike. The difference between the tent and the mansion could not have been bigger. They did not de-friend me, so I think it's all good?