Under Waterfalls and Across a Lake

Friday, 6th July, 2012 - Another early morning. After a light but refreshing breakfast Ceejay took me to Trümmelbachfälle, the series of waterfalls that is the sole drainage point for the Mönch, Eiger, and Jungfrau. It was a perfect morning for it as the grey sky was pressing in quite low and the immensity of the surrounding mountains was completely lost. The falls being partially inside mountain caves, this wasn't a problem. 

We arrived just after 9:00am, right as it was opening, after a rather pleasant jaunt through the valley. And luckily so - I had the place almost completely to myself, not that I could have heard other visitors with 20,000 liters of water cascading down in a deafeningly thunderous roar.

There were ten falls in all, some partially 'inside', some tucked back deep in caverns, others outside, but all were awing. The first tourist bus arrived at 9:30 and I was caught up in a much more colorful and less hazardous flood as I was coming out of the main series of caves, but luckily from there I could stay ahead of the masses.

Alack, it was then time to continue on my Switzerladventure so Ceejay and I returned to Lauterbrunnen, though not before detouring by a Bernese Mountain Dog breeder because what trip to Switzerland is complete without seeing some of these giant black teddy bear dogs?

"I need five seconds to get to the gate."

We got to the train station about fifteen minutes early and decided to go for one final treat, a vanilleschnitte at a diner across the street that Ceejay swore was the best in the valley. I could hardly disagree.

Okay, really leaving this time.

Caught the train to nearby Interlaken, secured my bag in a locker, and sallied forth into the once splendid grandeur of a city long since fallen by the wayside. Don't get me wrong, Interlaken is still a nice and quietly bustling town, but it's easy to see that it's slipped from what it was 100 years ago: one of the first Alpine resorts once snow-capped mountains were redefined as romantic rather than pesky obstacles. It's not hard to imagine women in wool skirts and men in top hats strolling arm-in-arm down the cobbled streets or riding in horse-drawn carriages discussing the daring adventure up into the mystical mountains they would soon be embarking upon. The horse-drawn carriages are still here, they're just occupied by couples in ball-caps rather than top hats.

Still, if not quite the once inspirational town where grand expeditions were planned and begun, it's still a quaint little place worth stopping through. Since it's no longer necessary to stop in Interlaken before venturing into the romanticized valleys to the south, nor is it a major site in itself anymore, it's not swarming with sunburned tourists and you can still soak in the old charm of the town as you explore.

This also allowed me a chance to talk to some of the shopkeepers, and I was surprised by how many people living and working in Interlaken were actually expats (with a seemingly high proportion coming from down under). Perhaps this is true all across Switzerland, but it was more striking to me here than anywhere else I visited.

One of the shops I, uh, innocently found myself in, a chocolate shop, had another unique feature that struck me as something I should recognize as soon as I walked in, but it was so out of place and the chocolate was so distracting that I didn't realize it until one of the shopkeepers walked by humming along to the song that was playing. The country song that was playing. Since she ended up being the same person who checked me out, I asked about the country scene here and she informed me that country music is incredibly popular in Switzerland. There's even a country (and trucker!) festival in Interlaken every summer, and I'd just missed it! Luckily I can plan next summer around attending this festival.

After a leisurely few hours and a small treat of chocolate, I boarded a boat to cross Lake Thun and catch a train to Fribourg for the night. I figured it would be a nice change of pace and a scenic way to travel; after all, it was free with my Eurail pass.

Boat across Lake Thun

What I didn't account for was the rain. However, knowing that this was the only time I would be making any crossings on a boat this trip, I decided to ride it out on the top deck. Luckily it only rained the first half of the journey. Since I was one of the few brave enough to stand up to the pelting droplets, I had one of the best spots to shiver and enjoy the scenery during the latter half of the trip.

I was really surprised by how turquoise the water was. I'm imagining it's from all of the glacial run-off depositing minerals into the lake; regardless it was very striking. I would gladly take that boat ride again, though perhaps on a sunnier day.

A short train ride later I arrived in Fribourg. I pretty much winged this little detour. I had planned to be in Gruyères on Saturday and needed a stopover place near there for Friday night. The beauty of a Eurail pass is that you can literally hop on any train at any time. Ultimate freedom, right? Well, the trip still needed quite a bit of structure before leaving because I needed to know where I was staying each night, but this was one of the few stages of the trip that I thought would be nice to have some flexibility on, so I had decided on Fribourg the night before.

I dropped my bag in my room and ducked through the rain to get dinner at Café du Midi which my receptionist recommended. It was very good, rather French, and specialized in fondues with the famed Gruyère cheese of the region. By the time I finished the rain was more of a soft misting and the night was still young, so I wandered the streets to the soundtrack of the Jazzparade Music Festival that was going on in the middle of town. I didn't recognize any of the bands playing so I didn't pay the 50€ entrance fee, but from the sounds of it it was a big event.

Cathedral of St. Nicolas on the Fribourg skyline

Instead I made my way north, just checking out the architecture since most stores were closed by then (about 8:00 or 8:30). Fribourg struck me as a neat town to live in, if not so much to visit, with lots of laid-back bars and cafes. I popped into one, Café du Belvédère, that the receptionist at my hostel had recommended, figuring that since her dinner suggestion had been up to par she was to be trusted for her bar suggestion. She had said it had a fantastic outlook over the River Saane and one of the valleys in the town. She was right, so I grabbed a drink and a table on the patio and took a little time to jot down some notes and thoughts from the day and just enjoy my surroundings. It was refreshing to be somewhere so bereft of tourists, too. Everyone that came in knew someone, and I didn't hear a word of English spoken.

View from Café du Belvédère

After that I made my way back for the night, wanting to catch an early train to Gruyères the next morning. Alas, as I was settling into bed in spilled a gaggle of giggling teenaged... boys. But their teacher or leader or whoever came in shortly after to quiet them down. There are definitely worse ways to end a night.

Into the Mountains We Go!

Thursday, 5th July, 2012 - The next morning saw Ceejay and me up well before the sun had crested the jagged ridge line of the Alps, although there was a soft pleasant light illuminating the valley. She had suggested I take the first train up to Jungfraujoch, the saddle between the Jungfrau and Mönch mountains, then I could come halfway back down and meet her after lunch for some hiking around Kleine Scheidegg. Sounded like a plan to me.

The train up to Kleine Scheidegg was about 45 minutes and featured some absolutely spectacular scenery (though it's hard to find scenery anywhere in Switzerland that's not absolutely spectacular!) - I would highly recommend sitting on the right side of the train. From there I had to switch on to a very charming bright red train to ascend the rest of the way up to the glacier. This took about another hour and I was surprised that the majority of it was actually through the mountain. When we finally rolled to a stop and walked out of the cave at 3,454 meters, I stepped up to a floor-to-ceiling window and looked out across a section of the Aletsch Glacier, the largest glacier in the Alps.

I wasn't completely sure what to expect at the Top of Europe, though I suppose it wasn't a multi-level building with museum, gift shop, and cafes. I was thinking it would be a little heavier on the wide-open-mountain-range-that-you-could-hike-around-on with maybe a building or two to get something to eat and warm up, but it was pretty much the opposite. There was one snowy area where you could walk around and a viewing platform on the roof of the building, but unless you had some pretty substantial gear, you really couldn't do much more than take in the view. Still, not exactly like it was a boring, run-of-the-mill view.

The Mönch, 4,107 meters (13,474 ft.)

And, although this goes without saying, you shouldn't let the blue skies and sun fool you; it was freezing up there! Luckily most of the Japanese tourists came well-equipped in puffy, brightly colored jackets.

I also checked out the museum while there, which was mostly filled with pictures of how the railway station was constructed, and this endeavor was no small feat. Thanks to the vision of Adolf Guyer-Zeller, construction began in 1896, but considering it was over a thousand meters of digging a tunnel through the Eiger and Mönch mountains, it's not too surprising that it took sixteen years to complete. 2012 marks the 100 year anniversary of its opening. Pretty nifty that they could build that a century ago! Also of interest was an ice cave complete with many impressive ice sculptures, though I think my favorite part may have been the long, straight hallway leading into the exhibit which was particularly well suited for running (or attempting to run) and sliding as far as possible.

However, as I was warned was likely to happen, the clouds started building up, and before I knew it I could hardly see five feet in front of me. It was a complete white-out by 11:00. Thank goodness I went up early! What a waste for all of the people pouring out of the train as I lined up to get back on.

But it wasn't just the peaks that had clouded up. By the time I got back to Kleine Scheidegg I could see that we were in for a storm in the next few hours. What a difference a three or four hours time can make in the mountains!

 View of the Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau from Kleine Scheidegg, 8:00am

View of Ogre, Monk, and Young Maiden (which is protected from the nasty Ogre by the saintly Monk) from mountains behind Kleine Scheidegg, 12:00pm

I wandered around the little village of Kleine Scheidegg, bought some postcards, then met up with Ceejay for what hiking we could fit in before the downpour. We opted to hike up the mountain on the other side from the village, where we stopped for a light lunch at a nice area that looked out at the mountain range one way and down across Wengen and the Lauterbrunnen Valley the other way.

We also came across a man building a new restaurant near the top of a ski lift who warned us that there might be lightning within the next hour so we should probably make our way back down soon. More than anything, this encounter reminded me how vastly different Swiss German is from every other type of German I'm vaguely familiar with. I understood, oh, about 15% of what he was saying. Luckily Ceejay has more practice with Swiss German than any other dialect, so I let her do the talking. We decided we had time to make it up to the nearby Lauberhorn, a peak of 2,472 meters and best known for its Alpine Ski Races with the longest downhill course in the world.

With one last stunning view of the mountains I had been in the midst of a mere few hours before, we hiked back down to Kleine Scheidegg for a quick bite of a local favorite, then hopped on the train to Wengen just as the skies opened up.

Röschti - a delicious Swiss potato dish

Back on the far side of the mountains, we decided to hike part of the way back to Lauterbrunnen from Werfen since it had stopped raining.

Werfen

Although the town itself was charming and perfectly picturesque, by far my favorite part was the music of the bells made by the cows and sheep grazing in the surrounding pastures. Quaint, I know, but walking along little paths between the mountain-side meadows and hearing the tinkling of the bells, all with a different pitch, and the smell of the recent rain, just felt so stereotypically Swiss in the absolute best way possible. We even came across the elusive Edelweiss, a flower I've never seen growing in person.

It was getting dark by the time we got back to Ceejay's flat, so we called it a day and had another of her tasty dinners on the back porch as the night drew in around us.

Does it get much better?

Swiss Charm

Wednesday, 4th July, 2012 - After over a year in Austria I have finally introduced myself to my enchanting and alluring neighbor, Switzerland. We've seen each other in passing before, stopping briefly in train stations and airports to nod a quick hello, but never have I made the time to stop for a formal introduction and subsequent period of time getting to know each other. Although the first day was certainly a quick one, I had been looking forward to familiarizing myself with this majestic mountain wonderland and planned in five full days of exploring the country.

As I was travelling by train from Austria, first on the agenda were Lucerne and Lauterbrunnen. No, the two are not really all that close, but I was to be in Lauterbrunnen that night and wanted to break up my twelve hour train ride one more time (after breakfast in Liechtenstein). Thus after again nodding a brief greeting to Switzerland in the Zurich train station, I finally stopped in Lucerne, full of smiles and putting my best foot forward (I wanted Switzerland to take an immediate liking to me, of course).

Lucerne, now there's a charming not-so-little town ('charming', by the way, might as well have been the theme of this two week excursion; I think I experienced more 'charming' than I could shake a stick at). I  disembarked from the train, stepped out the door of the tourist office (conveniently located in the station) with map in hand, and was at once greeted by a cool draft coming off the cornflower blue Lake Lucerne which stretched out to my right. "Yes," I decided, "Switzerland and I will get along famously." And so we did. I had the pleasure of discovering Lucerne for about two and a half hours before I had to continue on to Lauterbrunnen, but I think I got a rather nice overview. The Lucerne tourist office was thoughtful enough to include a guided walk in their map which I more or less followed, winding up the Reuss River for a ways before crossing to the far side and meandering further still until I looped back towards the train station.

Probably one of the city's most iconic offerings is the Kapellbrücke, a bridge spanning the Reuss diagonally, which is attached to the even older Wasserturm.

The Wasserturm (literally 'water tower', although it is so called because it stands in water) was built around 1300 and initially used as a prison and torture chamber. And to think how innocent it looks! The bridge, built thirty years later, is the world's oldest surviving truss bridge as well as Europe's oldest wooden covered bridge.

But that's not all! This bridge, along with two others (one of which is long destroyed) in the city, has 17th century paintings in the rafters depicting Lucern's history (as seen from a Catholic Counter-Reformation perspective).

There were originally 158 paintings between the three bridges with 147 still remaining up until 1993, but alas there was a great fire which almost burned down the Kapellbrücke and the remains of only 47 of these paintings were scavenged, and only 30 of those have since been fully restored.

In the Old Town, on the northern bank of the Reuss, there are still many half-timbered buildings with colorfully painted facades and decorative iron sign holders gracing the entrances to shops, hotels, and restaurants. I really didn't have time to stop in to many of the shops, but just walking through the narrow cobbled streets was a pleasure in itself.

Although the train I was supposed to catch was drawing closer, I figured I had enough time to swing by Lucerne's other well-known landmark, the Löwendenkmal or Lion Monument. This ten meter long and six meter high sculpture was hewn from 1820-1 to commemorate the massacre of the Swiss Guards at Tuileries Palace in 1792 during the French Revolution. Always spot on with his words, Mark Twain said that this mortally wounded lion is "the most mournful and moving piece of stone in the world."

I came, I saw, I took a moment to reflect and another to snap a photograph, then scampered off to the train station.

Once onboard the rather old-fashioned train from Lucerne to Interlaken, I settled in to enjoy some of the most scenic parts of Switzerland I had yet been whisked through. (I assume) because this wasn't one of the main railways, it cut a more rugged path through the alps, giving way to some pretty extraordinary views! There were so many little turquoise lakes at the bases of mountains with jagged rocky ridge lines, and of course the vegetation was all a fantastic fresh and fertilized (I could smell the cows in the surrounding pastures) green - perhaps even rivaling the Emerald Isle.  Lake Brienz was probably the prettiest lake that I passed, but that's a stiff competition.

Lake Brienz

I would have been content watching the landscape in this part of the country slip by for hours, especially as it was starting to rain, but all too soon I disembarked in Interlaken and caught another train to Lauterbrunnen where my new friend, Ceejay, was waiting for me.

Luckily the rain was letting up again as I pulled into the station, and we walked through the crisp early evening back to her apartment. Since it was still light out after dropping off my bags, she suggested we go on a little walk around the valley.

This, by the way, was the view from Ceejay's apartment, along with the tunnel behind the waterfall:

We went up behind the waterfall through a roughly hewn tunnel of sorts, where I also learned that a man near and dear to my heart, J. R. R. Tolkien, had visited Lauterbrunnen when he was 19. He was apparently so awed with the landscape that he painted Lauterbrunnen as viewed from Wengen, a village on an eastern cliffside. This innocent painting he called, "Rivendale".

We then strolled back along the river as the skies darkened with the setting sun.

Back at her apartment, Ceejay whipped us up some delicious ravioli and we sat on her back porch for a summer dinner. We were even pleasantly surprised with a display of fireworks (perhaps for the Fourth of July even though we were in Switzerland?). After a coffee and dessert and chatting for a bit, we both retired for the night, prepared to wake up bright and early for a full day of exploring the Alps.