July 28, 2012


Wengen-Obstersteinberg-Murren


We have reached Murren, a small town perched right at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Lauterbrunn Valley, a flat green valley that narrows gradually over a few kilometers south of Wengen, which sits directly below the Eiger.

Thursday morning we left Grinderalwald and took the train partway up a pass, detraining a couple of hours below at Alpinglen.  A pleasant two hour uphill brought us to Kleine Sheidegg, a transfer area for those going up to Jungfraujoch (billed "The Top of Europe") via cog train.  We did not go up that day but it would be a great, albeit expensive ($200+) excursion.  The train runs directly through the Eiger and ends just below the top of Jungfrau, one of the several mountains over 4,000 meters.  As with many stopping points in Switzerland, this area had a couple of restaurant featuring Swiss specialties, Swiss beer and wine and lots of cheesy souvenirs.  It is also semi-famous as the spot where George Kennedy watched Clint Eastwood in the movie "The Eiger Sanction," a now 30 year-old thriller that I'll now have to rent.

An hour later, we came to Biglinalp, a bowl-shaped meadow filled with small boulders, wild flowers and surrounded by the imposing Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau peaks, whose glaciers gave off many waterfalls.  We enjoyed our lunches there, contentedly taking in the natural beauty of this unique spot.  Late in the afternoon, the group got to our hotel in Wengen, a small town known for its great views of the Eiger.  We had a fabulous dinner on the hotel's veranda, taking the long sunset and the mountains.  Dinner was capped off by an out of this world apple torte -- note the bear's paw, the signature of the Hotel Berren.

Friday we trained to Lauterbrunnen to begin one of our longer days.  Brilliant sunshine and temperatures in the low 80's made for a hot walk up the Lauterbrunnen valley, lushly green and punctuated by numerous waterfalls.  A couple of shots do not do this special place justice.

The highlight of our walk through the valley, though, was without a doubt Trummelbach Falls, which to me was like the Eighth Wonder of the World.  Unlike most other falls, Trummelbach is situated in a fault in the high ridge below Jungfrau peak.  Over eons, glacial water falling through this crack has worn a twisting, curving path through the rock before finally thrusting out onto the valley floor.  This remarkable natural place is perhaps equalled only by the human ingenuity -- and gumption -- of the Swiss, who blasted and carved into the twisting falls 10 different viewing platforms, reached by elevator cut into the middle of the rock.  You walk down from platform to platform inside the mountain with the angry rumbling of the falls surrounding you as it roars down.  Its a little like walking inside Niagara Falls, although small and completely surrounded by rock.  A bit frightening and a reminder that water is a force that will not be denied.

After a brief lunch in the shade of a hotel in Stechelberg, we headed out for the tough part of the day, made far harder by the heat and our extra-heavy loads -- we were carrying additional clothing and personal items because our bags could not be transported to the remote inn where we would spend the night.  So up we marched on the steepest trails encountered so far, over 3,000 vertical feet.  I do not ever remember sweating more; with every steep, sweat dripped off the brim of my cap.  Our group became elongated as everyone settled into a pace they felt could be sustained on the long, hot way up.  I tried to stop very little, convinced that if I stopped to long the old bones would seize up.  I was not the first up, though, because a few minutes ahead of me was the indefatigable Bill, six years older but in great shape, a veteran hiker who bounced up the trail like someone half his age.  Reaching the top and our destination -- the Obersteinberg Inn -- felt like a true accomplishment on that day.

We settled in, tired but elated at having overcome the conditions and ravenously hungry.  The Obersteinberg is a small hotel and working farm with cows, pigs and one underutilized donkey.  It has no electricity, no showers and no locks.  Dinner is by candlelight and served family-style.  We had seconds of everything from the vegetable soup (perhaps the better I have ever had) to salad to veal stroganoff.  Sadly, there were no seconds on the ethereal vanilla and apricot mousse for dessert.  Sleep came quickly in my room under the eaves.

The next day we were greeted by showers and after a simple breakfast of bread, butter, preserves and cheese (alpinkase, from 2011, made right at the farm), the group headed off for Murren.  Although the trip was not challenging in terms of terrain, the rain eventually became quite steady and everyone was pretty wet, even in rain pants and rain coats.  The rain eventually gave way to some sun, though, as we climbed up the shelf above Lauterbrunn Valley and Murren.

We've had a great couple of days here, with a short day hike today.  At a farm above this town, which sits below Shillthorne, a beautiful peak, I bought local sausage (from made from wild sheep meat) and their alpinkase, to take with me on my trip to the Dolomites (if I can resist that long!)

Walking the town of Murren, I came across an unusual store, Exile on Main Street, which had an array of knit hats, t-shirts and carefully curated high end items, mostly manufactured by the owner, Andy, who lives in Frankfurt but opened up the store in his favorite ski town, Murren.  Many of the hat, sweaters and t-shirts have a "Piz Gloria" logo, derived from the Bond movie "On Her Majesty's Secret Service," set in a town below the mythical peak "Piz Gloria."  While the movie Piz Gloria was meant to be something like St. Moritz, it was actually shot in and around Murren, set against Shilthorn Mountain.  An avid skier and snowboarder, the shop includes the first (and perhaps only) snowboard museum.  Here is a shot of the "museum" and Andy with his first snowboard.

We leave in the morning for two hard days, the first some 4,000 feet up and then 4,000 down, followed by a second day with 5,000 up and about the same down.  Internet may be lacking until at least Tuesday night so no posting until mid-week or whenever my extremities are functioning again.

July 24, 2012

Lucerne: Blue Balls and Cow Bells

That got your attention, huh.  Well, its not what you think.  (OK, maybe it is but that’s not the point.) 

For the last 20 years, Lucerne has been the home of two music festivals: the Lucerne Festival, which is for classical music and the Blue Balls festival, which is decidedly not, as the name might suggest.  It was mere serendipity that my stay in Lucerne coincided with some of the best groups playing here during Blue Balls and both last night and tonight, I took in several bands playing at the various venues, all strung along the u-shaped waterfront facing Lake Lucerne.  Several of the groups were quite good (if fashion-challenged), most playing a bluesy/folky rock with a little bite and no little swing.  Most were Swiss or German but, interestingly, the lyrics were all in English.  It was funny to hear the bands talk in German between numbers and then sing in English.  I guess it’s a commercial decision that maximizes their commercial appeal.

The concert venues were all surrounded by tents offering a wide array of food choices, from traditional Swiss grilled meats to Tibetan and Mexican food, along with drinks and beer, of course, although Heineken had the sole rights to beer sales at the festival.  Not surprisingly, the festival was crowded with all sorts, from families to boomer-era geezers like me, almost all pretty clean-cut with fewer tattoos and extreme styles than one would see in the U.S., although that is characteristic of the country as a whole.  A couple of not-great Blue Balls shots from my iPhone.

Lucerne and its surrounding region is astonishingly beautiful.  The city has preserved much of its 16^th and 17^th Century architecture.  Many buildings have elaborate paintings filling large portions of their external walls along with hand-carved  hanging signs displaying a sigil or guild of the business or family within.  A covered wooden bridge cut across the small river that separates the more modern downtown and train station area from the old town with its older buildings, shops and a plethora of lakefront hotels, most dating to the early 19^th Century, when Lucerne first became a major tourist destination for Europeans and Brits.

My first night in Lucerne I took in some of the Blue Balls acts and had a pleasant outdoor pizza dinner overlooking the river; eating outside, for a New Yorker, is always a pleasure and the weather was perfect.  Here is a typical lunch plate of cheeses, pickles, salami and ham, salad and the local brew.  Yum.

Lucerne at dusk.  The first is the famous covered wooden bridge crossing the river and the latter two show Mount Pilatus, which looms over the city.

The next day I bought a day trip excursion to Rigi Mountain, one of many day trips available in Lucerne, many involving trips on Lake Lucerne.  A side paddle-wheel boat took a large crowd from the pier just across from the train station (Switzerland is so efficient!) to a small town at the foot of Rigi.  We passed a number of posh small resort towns lining Lake Lucerne, filled with elaborate hotels and large private residences and condos, some small beaches (lidos) and numerous parks, churches and docks.  Scooting off the boat, I made for the train that would take me partway up and sat on the window facing the stunning views of the lake.  The train was the first cogwheel train in Switzerland; today the Alps are filled with them, along with gondolas, cable cars and other conveyances up the mountains.  I got off at the first station, some 1500 vertical feet and two hours below the summit at about 6,000 feet, to get my first taste of hiking in the Alps (although Rigi is small by alpine standards).  The trails were well-marked, even surfaced and lined with many benches, most bearing the names of donors (a la Central Park in New York).  The views were great, of course, and you can see some of them below.  After a hot lunch of goulash, I took a roundabout route around the mountain to get back to my starting off point.  Along the way, the serenity was challenged only by the cacophony of cow bells, the characteristic sound of the Alps.  After alighting the cog wheel train at the bottom, I jumped on the boat ride back to Lucerne.  A perfect introduction to my trip and a welcome change from the clouds (and pain) of Zurich.

July 24-25

Meirengen-Schwartzwaldalp-Grindelwald

These are real places, not tongue-twisters.

Yesterday began with a train ride to Meirengen, the meeting point for the trip.  A small train took me past startingly blue alpine lakes nestled in steep valleys.  Despite the high season, these lakes were serene, undisturbed by big power boats, jet skis and overbuilding.  A refreshing change from how we treat similar lakes in the U.S.

The hiking leaders and group met at the restaurant opposite the train station and we all got acquainted.  The leader (for the first half) and owner of Alpinehikers, Troy Haines, is a friendly, relaxed but experienced and knowledgeable guide who first fell in love with the Alps over 20 years ago.  His colleague, Matt, has spent less time in the Alps but has lead many tours, especially in the Grand Canyon and other Arizona parks for several years.  Both, of course, are impressively fit, calm and easy to chat with.

The group has two couples and two single guys (in addition to myself); all seem bright, friendly and with easy senses of humor.  A good bunch, I think.  We headed off to our first hotel, a very small inn in Schwartzwaldalp, a couple of thousand feet (and a frightening taxi ride) above Meirengen.

Our first night was at the Schwartzwaldalp Inn, a comfy inn surrounded by brooks, trees, mountains and, of course, cows.  Our dinner was delicious with a main course of local turkey, which is unexpected here but was all dark meat and very flavorful.  The next day, clear and warm, took us over a steep climb to First, overlooking the Berner valley and a range of grey peaks covered with snow and glaciers, including the Schreckhorn (really), the Finstaarhorn, the Monch, the Jungfrau and the famous Eiger.  We ate at over 7,000 feet, enjoying the jaw-dropping views and sandwiches accompanied by crisp glacial water.  Through the afternoon, we slowly wended our way down towards Grindelwald, one of the best known hiking centers in Europe.  Arriving at Bort, after 13 miles, we gladly hopped onto a gondola into the center of town and our hotel for the night.  Dinner was unremarkable but we enjoyed an herbal type of schnapps as a digestif, which was kind of like drinking Herbal Essence but actually pretty pleasant.  A sound sleep after our first day, cooled by breezes (no A/C here) and a brief shower.

This area of Switzerland is crisscrossed with hiking and mountain biking trails, gondolas, cog trains and chair lifts, an enormous and very efficient infrastructure allowing great flexibility in designing hiking, skiing or biking trips of every description.  It is worth many return trips.  The Swiss are very active and fit; we saw many young (3-4 year old) kids out walking with their parents, developing life-long habits of exercise and enjoyment of the outdoors.  In the States, we cart kids from car seats to strollers; its no wonder that obesity is such a problem in the U.S.  On the other hand, the Swiss smoke like chimneys.

Tomorrow, we are off to Wengen and then Obersteinbock (which has no internet or, for that matter, hot water) so no posting until at least Saturday, when we arrive at the cliffside town of Murren for a more relaxing couple of days.  Till then, maybe these photos give a slight sense of the majesty of these mountains.

Two of the men in our group are retired, one slightly younger and one slightly younger.  They seem contented with their lives and with not being engaged in more than private pursuits.  As much as I have enjoyed these past months, and those to come, I don't sense that I am ready to give up on a more active work life.  The trick is to find work that I enjoy and can devote my energy to along with more relaxing ways of spending time.  The hiking has been a tonic for me but I also sense that future travels should include exposure to other cultures in a broader way, not merely in their holiday context.  Food for thought as I begin to think about the fall.

On the Road, Part Deux (or Zwei, as they say in these  parts)

After almost three months of alternating exercise and sloth in New York, I have finally organized the next leg (ok, most of the next leg) of my journey.  These past weeks have been fine but fundamentally did not advance the Ned ball towards much contentment beyond the hardly profound understanding that staying in the same environment -- without a sharp departure from how I relate to it (and others) -- was not going to provide much opportunity for insight, growth or change.

My time out West certainly did do that and provided a clean break from the unworkable pattern my life had settled into.  Its time to go further.  Hopefully, my weeks in Europe, and some trips beyond, will help me view the world, and myself, from different perspectives so that I can better resolve how and where to live going forward.

My familiarity with Europe is pretty limited and to some extent almost any itinerary would significantly enhance my knowledge of this extraordinary place.  Mid-summer, though, is not necessarily the best time to enjoy much of Europe; in the end, I let my feet chose the path and they seemed to itch to do more hiking.  And, of course, the essential European hiking experience is had in the Alps.  So I joined up with a small American outfit that specializes in Alpine hikes for their version of one of the most famous hikes in the world - the Bernese Oberland Traverse, an 11-day series of day hikes (with a different small hotel, farmhouse or B&B every night) across a portion of the Alps in Central Switzerland south-southwest of Zurich.  Following that, I travel to the Dolomites, the Italian Alps in northeastern Italy, for a series of day hikes in that unique region.  And I have not resolved the itinerary beyond that, (a trip in the Norwegian fjords that I had signed up for got cancelled) so stay tuned . . .

Saturday, July 21: Zurich

Many begin long trips with special rituals or practices that will get them rolling in the right traveling mindset.  I seem to be in this camp as well, although my routine is a bit unique, generally involving the most unpleasant or painful illness or problem possible.  In this approach, truly "extreme travel," my real introduction to a new place usually involves exposure to the local medical community.    You may argue that this is a rather harsh way of getting to know a new place and certainly not a sensible way to begin travel if the idea is to enjoy yourself.  And you would be right.

I could regale (and probably repulse) you with tales of my epic illnesses that blossomed upon various arrivals in London (stomach flu, pneumonia and pleurisy), of the kidney stone that took me to the emergency room my first night in Tucson last fall or of the nasty food poisoning that rendered my last (and only prior) visit to Switzerland over 25 years into a well-known case study for the World Health Organization.  In fact, I was shocked that they let me back in as I arrived in Zurich early Friday morning.  Had the customs agent been on her game, she would have noticed the slight rictus in my mouth, the cold flop sweat and pale concentration, symptoms of the brutal tooth ache that had me ready to take a pliers to the guilty teeth (several seemed to be at fault).

I'd seen my dentist the prior week because of some sensitivity to cold, which he had treated before by putting on a coating that would prevent material or liquids from getting into the tiny crevasses of a few seemingly susceptible teeth.  En route to JFK, though, pains were cycling through my mouth without anything in it but I popped some advil in the hopes that the tooth would calm down.  After arriving in Zurich though, and trying to walk its pleasant streets (more on that later), I realized that the pain was getting unbearable and that if it continued like this, there would be no way I could do the hike.  Nor did I want to rely on access to dental care in the small villages we would be visiting.  My delicious dinner at the justly famous Kronenhalle thus was, sadly, an expensive agony.  So with the help of the excellent staff at Hotel Helmhaus, I found my way to Swiss Smiles, a large dental operation with long hours, and to Dr. Bosshardt, my first lady dentist.  After examination, x-rays and a telephone consult with my dentist, I spent an hour in her office Saturday afternoon getting my fifth root canal.

Now, Sunday morning, my pain seems almost entirely abated and, with the help of antibiotics, a few painkillers (nothing too strong) and the exceptional handiwork of the good Dr. Bosshardt, I am cautiously hopeful that I will be able to stick with my plans.


Needless to say, my 48 hours in Zurich has not allowed me much opportunity to explore, although I have wandered its streets and the small river, full of boats and swans, that curves through the downtown area towards the Zurichsee, the lake on which Zurich is situated.  Zurich seems a quaint, mildly charming small city with superb transit, a number of fine museums and a lot of shops, cafes and restaurants.  While it has a reputation for being pretty buttoned-up, Zurich has some night life and, while no threat to Bourbon Street, people and visitors here seem to know how to have a good time.  Maybe it'll rub off . . .  I'll remember Zurich for the rain (despite the pictures below), the oft-ringing church bells and the great service (indeed kindness) I found everywhere.


The Kronenhalle Restaurant is one of the oldest traditional restaurants in the city; it was a shame to be unable to enjoy the exceptional roast chicken, carved and served table side in the old school manner.  Maybe next time.  Last evening, after wandering a bit, including down to the Zurichsee, I was able to enjoy some bouillabaisse at Restaurant Louise.  I always find it hard to pass this dish up, even a few hundred kilometers from Marseilles.  As a kid, I remember how cool it was that James Coburn, in In Like Flint, could purported identify the actual Marseilles cafe where the drop of bouillabaisse on a dead man's suit came from.


So here are a few shots from my walkabouts in Zurich; I'll try to add a few more later.   I leave in a couple of hours for Lucerne and hope to have a report from there tomorrow; my hiking begins on Tuesday.