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?