Hiking tour in Switzerland

Monday, September 4, to Lauterbrunnen

My watch died overnight. Guess I can only find out what time it is by being nice to Jacky. It wasn’t raining when we got up, but by the time we had eaten and were ready to set out, there was a steady rain. We could have taken the Seilbahn to Männlichen, spent the day loafing, then taken another to Wengen. Or we could have taken the Wengen train, a cog railway whose typical grade would have been hard work on a bicycle. But you know us – we hiked…

Dressed up in polypro and Gore-tex, and out we went, about 8 AM. Not as uncomfortable as I might have expected. Plenty of body heat as we hike uphill. My wide-brim hat doesn’t keep my glasses clear, but the hood on my jacket, pulled forward under the hat, does.

There was an ambiguous sign from Grund; we took the wrong path and had to come back. Should have known: both went uphill, but the correct choice was steeper. The trail roughly followed the Wengen cog railway tracks all day; there was a surprising amount of traffic. Short trains, but frequent. Quite common to see two or even three, thirty seconds apart.

Nothing much to see today. We were in the clouds. We hoped it would clear up as we hiked, and we’d be able to see some of the glaciers and the famous mountains that are right here: Eiger, Mönch, Jungfrau.

As we climbed, the rain eventually turned to snow. Still comfortable, though we were very slow: Jacky’s cold sapped her strength. Our feet seem to be okay on this second full day of hiking. Trails almost deserted. One party of six passed us at a moleskin break, and that was all we saw. And finally we thought the clouds were starting to break up. Beautiful frosted Christmas tree forest.

Occasional glimpses of the mountains. But a wall of fog – we could see it coming – swallowed us, and there were no more views until we reached Kleine Scheidegg pass. Interesting that the kleine pass is a hundred meters higher than the große. We met a mob of noisy teen-age hikers just as we reached Kleine Scheidegg pass. Glad they were going the other way.

There’s quite a collection of hotels, restaurants, and train stations at the pass. Lots of people around. Japanese tourists, none of them hikers. It was just noon; we found a large empty table in one of the restaurants. A couple guys sat down with us; Jacky asked them not to smoke, and they moved to another table as soon as one came free.

We both ordered Röstizza. This is the restaurant’s own invention: pizza toppings on Rösti (hash browns), all of it baked crisp. Not bad, but they should have omitted the salt, dry-fried the potatoes to reduce the fat, and sprinkled raw bell pepper over it when it came out of the oven to make it crunchy. Still, we ate it all and didn’t complain.

Shared the table with a British couple who had come up today the easy way – by rail. They told us the section between Wengen and Lauterbrunnen was very steep.

Good people watching. A really fat railroad guy came into the restaurant, pants sagging halfway to his knees. But his J C Penney undershorts were still all the way up around his waist, shirt tucked neatly inside.

While we were eating, the weather was clearing up, but we only got a glimpse of Eiger through the clouds.

As far as Wengen, the descent wasn’t bad at all, and we made surprisingly good time. I was disappointed in the weather, since we were just across from these three great mountains and any number of big active glaciers, and there was absolutely nothing to see. Damn!

Nothing to see in that direction, anyway. We were hiking below a wall to our right, quite pretty, waterfalls every few hundred meters, cows in their high alpine pastures.

And not all the worthwhile sights are large. Some really pretty little fungi, moss on a decaying stump, forest duff.

Finally, as we began descending into Wengen, the clouds began to break up, and we got some nice views. The first thing we saw as we entered Wengen was a Biergarten, an open terrace with a view of the mountains. Since we wouldn’t have this view from Lauterbrunnen, I suggested stopping for a Radler (the Swiss call it Stange), giving the clouds more time to clear. But it never did really clear up – after mellowing out over our drinks, we headed on down.

Lauterbrunnen lies in a wide valley, by no means flat. On either side, perpendicular cliffs punctuated by any number of waterfalls. Pretty nice.

We followed the signs to the Lauterbrunnen Bahnhof, where the woman gave us good directions to the Silberhorn hotel (Silberhorn is also the name of one of these mountains, as you’d expect).

A very picturesque place; we had a view from our window up toward Wengen and Männlichen. We’re also right next to the funicular cable car going up Grütschalp to the west.

Jacky wanted a shower. I changed to running shoes and went out: got some more film, and bread, cheese, paté for tomorrow’s lunch, and the cheapest watch I could find, a Swatch for SF 50.

We could have seen Jungfrau from Lauterbrunnen if it weren’t so foggy. Too bad.

If Bern reminded me of San Francisco, and Thun reminded me of Sausalito, these towns don’t remind me of anything in my experience. They’re nicer and more scenic than the little towns in the Sierra; maybe the Colorado Rockies have something comparable. Imagine Aspen or Crested Butte a tenth the size, and with a lot less hype.

A new experience in European dining rooms: there were no ash trays anywhere! Nice place: mauve and white and wood, wonderful mountain views. A terrace for warmer times.

Another bit of Swiss precision: they assign you a table in the dining room when you arrive, and that’s your table as long as you’re there. Behind our table was a distinguished looking gent, bald head, white beard.

Lots of food, for a change. Salad bar buffet. One of the choices was shredded white vegetable matter of some kind – we got it last night, too. Looks like pasta, but isn’t. Pretty good. So when the waitress came along, I asked her what it was. She appealed to Mr Harrison – the distinguished-looking guy, who just happened to be behind me in line – for its English name. “In this part of the world,” said Mr Harrison, “they call it celery.” I suspect in other parts of the world, they’d call it celery root.

We were waiting to pay for our drinks when alpenglow struck the mountains. Beautiful. Ran for the camera, but it was too late for a really good picture. Wandered around the village. Hotels, restaurants, sporting goods stores, photography, groceries. Oh, yes, and a shop selling Pferdewurst.

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