The train chugged along at 11,000 feet high, slowly climbing at a steep angle. As I was sitting facing the back of the train, gravity pulled me forward and I struggled to keep from falling into the lap of the passenger across from me. It was a brilliant, clear, sunny day, and the immensity of the Bernese Alps in western Switzerland was in full force as the series of 12,000+ feet peaks could be seen penetrating the sky from miles away. However, at that particular moment, even though I was a mere couple thousand feet away from these majestic mountains, the only view out the window was of a wall of rock and darkness.

I was traveling on the famous mountain train to Jungfraujoch—the highest place in Europe that can be accessed by car or train, at a comfy 11,333 feet, nestled on the bench between the iconic peaks of Mönch and Jungfrau. Departing from Grindelwald in the valley below, the train begins ascending towards the base of the Eiger, the most prominent peak viewed from Grindelwald–whose colossal north face casts a constant shadow over part of the town, and finally disappears into darkness in a long tunnel cutting through the heart of the Eiger and Mönch before eventually reaching its destination at Jungfraujoch.

The main center at Jungfraujoch is a multiple story building built inside a rocky peak on the bench between the two mountains, and consists of restaurants, gift shops, and an interactive tour. An elevator took us from the bottom level, where the railroad ends, to the top platform deck that provides a 360-degree panoramic view of the most incredible mountain vista I had ever seen. Great snowcapped limestone giants rose into the sky directly above me, their base giving way to a vast, flat glacier that meandered down the landscape like an icy highway, disappearing over the horizon into the next valley. The traditional Swiss cabins dotting the hillsides of Grindelwald could be spotted 8,000 feet below. Whether it was the beauty of the mountains, ice, and rock, or the effects of the altitude (likely a combination of both), I found myself breathless as I took it all in.

The great views only lasted for a few fleeting moments though, as anonymous heads popped in front of my line of vision left and right, squeezing into any available space to get their pictures taken in front of the mountains, fighting through crowds, pushing and shoving to get the best view. Selfie sticks waved aimlessly and haphazardly about, whacking unsuspecting heads and jabbing oblivious ribcages. Tour groups wandered in massive groups like grazing cattle, taking photos here and there, hurrying to catch up with the group so to not be left behind. The amusement park Disney-like feel was overwhelming at first and almost detrimental to the experience. At one point, I even forgot I was supposedly “in nature” as I was all too consumed in the chaos and commotion around me.

We eventually made our way outside where there was a short mile-and-a-half hike along a groomed trail across the glacier to Mönchsjoch Hut—the highest altitude serviced hut in Switzerland, at about 12,000 feet high, at the base of Mönch. While the hike was short and only gained about 700 feet, at that elevation, it felt much longer and steeper. It was just difficult enough to deter most of the crowds, leaving me a chance to finally breathe again, deeply inhaling that crisp, sharp mountain air. The sun was warm, reflecting off the bright, snowy surface, forcing me to strip to just my base layer as I made my way over the glacier. At the hut, we enjoyed a hearty lunch and rested our oxygen-starved lungs, while lounging on the deck and watching several climbing parties begin to ascend the south face of Mönch.

After lunch, we walked back to Jungfraujoch and finished the interactive tour, which included an ice cave, an Edelweiss themed gallery, and a history of the railroad. The stories and photos of how it was built was what most fascinated me. Construction started in 1896 at the base of Eiger, and for the next 16 years, workers chiseled a tunnel through the middle of Eiger and Mönch, reaching all the way to its current location. How they were able to complete such a task in that short of time with nothing more than pick axes and hammers is unbelievable. Almost more unbelievable, is that someone was mad enough to even think it would be possible to build something of the sort in 1896. Of course, dozens died in the process, for which there is a meager memorial along the tour dedicated to the men who lost their lives so people like me can have an epic tourist experience.

The question is, however, should tourists be able to visit a place like this in the first place? Sure, the railroad is an example of human will and achievement, but just because we can do it, should we? Should the (relatively) wealthy be able to pay for a train to take them to the top of a mountain? Should beautiful destinations like this one be turned into amusement parks where anyone can have their photo taken in front of majestic mountains if they have the means to pay for it? My first instinct is to say no. The environmentalist and wilderness advocate in me believes these places should be kept wild and free from development, that only those with the devotion and ability to climb to these rewarding views should be allowed to enjoy them.

On the other hand, it is unlikely I would ever make the climb myself, nor would 99% of the people that come up here. What the Jungfraujoch railroad does do is provide access to an extraordinary place for people who would otherwise never be able to see it. As most of the visitors were elderly, or unaccustomed to this type of outdoor experience, this was the only way for them to have such an experience. We can only hope that the visitors gain a new appreciation and respect for natural places and, as a result of their experience, join the movement to help protect them.

No, we should not start constructing railroads to the tops of mountains all around the world (this would surely spark outrage, especially in the U.S.), but maybe it is okay to have just one Jungfraujoch, if it means allowing ordinary people to get close to nature, so they may gain a better understanding and appreciation for it. Or maybe there is a better way that benefits both tourists and nature. I’ll let you decide for yourself.