Some winters are best seen in motion, and Switzerland’s panoramic train promises just that.

Winter. My spirit does not gleefully jump at the fading light, soggy gloves, and single-digit temperatures on either side of zero.

Nor does it dance with the bare-naked trees when I picture gusts of tiny needles hitting my face. Or the sting of the cold in my ears that haunts me long after I’ve slammed the door to the frozen world outside. 

Yet for every scratchy woolen layer, stiff finger, and runny nose, there exists a winter worth savoring. The one from the warmth of a window. 

Windows offer an intimate glimpse of the outside world when we step inside, away from the hustle. They serve as a projector, reeling back micro-moments of “humanness” that we might not necessarily catch on a check-box trip; a dog leaping through a fresh blanket of snow, waddling toddlers bundled in bulky snowsuits, a street vendor meticulously hanging the last strand of tinsel on their awning.

Call it travel voyeurism. The joy of a quiet, captivating secret beyond the glass. 

There may be no better window from which to watch the season unfold than on the Glacier Express—and that’s exactly where I found myself earlier this year.

The world’s “slowest express train,” the Glacier Express winds unhurriedly through some of Europe’s most iconic winter scenery, linking the ritzy resorts of Zermatt & St. Moritz.

With 360 panoramic windows, it’s a photographer’s dream, though you’ll want one hand free for a glass of champagne and the extravagant meals provided onboard. 

Chugging through alabaster valleys, alpine villages, and towering mountains, the journey takes eight hours to complete. 

With the Matterhorn hidden in the early morning haze, we depart Zermatt. This time of day is quieter—most groups choose to catch the later train.

Pine forests and pastures peel back in slow motion, revealing wooden hamlets and steeples tucked into the valley below.

The staff on board tell me that the Glacier Express wasn't always luxurious. It launched in 1930, and originally it was a mixed-use mountain train, hauling milk, mail, and livestock along with passengers. Back then, the journey used to require swapping locomotives—steam here, electric there—so early passengers had to wait while the locomotives were changed multiple times. 

For a moment, I watched my reflection blend into the snow outside, like winter was trying to borrow me for a second. 

Inside, the carriage felt like a cocoon: warm air hissing through the vents, windows fogging then clearing with every shift in altitude. I spotted someone two rows up wrapping their hands around a warm mug.

An elderly couple to the left were speaking about the construction of the route; entire teams lived in alpine huts for months, blasting through rock metre by metre with picks and dynamite. 

The train slowed just enough for passengers to wander toward the space between carriages, the unofficial photo spot where the windows opened. Winter rushes in, threatening to color our cheeks rosy.

Chugging forward, a flurry of snow and sepia welcomes us into a world of monochrome. Frozen tundras, powdered hills, and just a hint of alpine blue.

I find myself wondering how many travellers before me stared out this same window, spiralling into their own frost-fed musings. If you bottled every mid-winter epiphany that's happened on this train, I bet you could probably power a whole extra carriage.

From behind the warm glass, watching this lone skier felt almost intimate. A small figure moving with a kind of stubborn calm. 

What struck me the most was the contrast. Inside the carriage, my world hummed along effortlessly. Outside, someone was earning every metre with breath, sweat, and muscle. Two different winters unfolding at once, separated only by a sheet of glass. 

Essential Tips For Your Glacier Express Trip

Seats book out early - and they’re mandatory

The Glacier Express requires a paid seat reservation on top of your rail pass or ticket. Reservations open about three months ahead, and winter departures fill quickly (especially window seats in panoramic cars).

You can get your ticket and seat reservations at a steep discount by following the instructions here. Tested it myself!

Light and views change with direction

If you’re heading Zermatt to St. Moritz, the right-hand side gets the soft morning light and wider views approaching the Oberalp Pass. Going the opposite way, flip that.

Winter = warm carriages, cold glass

The sun turns the panoramic cars into a cozy greenhouse. Wear layers you can shed, and bring a microfiber cloth — fingerprints and mist gather on the glass faster than you’d think.

Meals are served in 1st & 2nd class.
Food is freshly prepared onboard and served at your seat. Both 1st and 2nd class passengers can buy meals on board (or pre-order if you’re picky), but feel free to bring snacks if you’d rather nibble. Payments on board are card only. 

The vestibule windows open

At certain slow sections, the little space between carriages becomes the unofficial photography spot. The windows open there — perfect for a breath of fresh air without stepping into a blizzard. Some Swiss passengers got angry at me when I stuck my head out the window to take pictures, but the train crew confirmed it was okay. Watch out for tunnels, though; I almost got decapitated... twice. 

The route has a rhythm

The Oberalp Pass is the showstopper, but the descent into Andermatt and the clustered villages afterward are just as magical. Don’t try to capture everything. Some scenes are better absorbed than saved.