Sunday Drive

The elevation changes where we live mean that weather can change drastically from one place to another. On Sunday we drove out of overcast, drenched Lausanne and headed up into the mountains.

All of the rain we've gotten in the past two weeks had fallen as snow in the mountains. It was like driving through a snow globe.

The pines, which fade into the scenery during the bright green summer, are truly magnificent when covered with snow.

As we headed into the town of Le Pont, we passed what might just be the best sledding hill ever.

The light during our drive was incredible. And as we rounded the turn into Le Pont...

Somewhere, Elton John began tinkling 'Circle of Life' on a piano...perfect Sunday.

Down Schilthorn: A Delayed Third Act

So as we learned in our last installment, hiking from Schilthorn down to Mürren was not really a great idea. But after discussing the issue over a delicious starch-filled lunch, we decided to take the telecab down to Brig (the next vantage point). There, we eyed the smoother terrain and thought, 'hey this looks totally more doable.'

So we began our final descent. Kind of looks like the surface of the moon, doesn't it?

Mountains are deceiving. From the top of one, you can see all the way down to the place you are sleeping. Walking seems like a piece of cake.

But that view is full of lies. For close to three hours we meandered our way down. For the first two-thirds of that journey I could have sworn that we were on a treadmill as our destination seemed to remain impossibly far away. On the way we saw people hiking UP. As in started hiking all the way down where we parked our car with the intention of going alll the way up to Schilthorn. Using nothing but their feet. What is this sorcery? We (royal use) have invented telecabs for a reason. I am trying to ignore the fact that among these intrepid explorers were people both much younger and significantly older then us. And moving at a much faster pace. These encounters made me feel extremely lazy and unfit

(she says, as she types lethargically from the couch with a plate of cookies two inches away)

At last we began seeing familiar territory.

This is where I leave out the part about how we could barely walk for the next three days. I thought gravity was kinder on the muscles. I was wrong. I wonder how the upward hikers fared.

(probably better what with being magical elves and whatnot).

All in all, it was a great trip and worth it for the views alone. Someday when I learn to snowboard it will be fun to come back and try the slopes.

Views from Schilthorn

Schilthorn: peak of James Bond fame, viewing place of a great section of the Bernese Alps and home to one of those rotating restaurants that makes food taste better because it is being eaten while moving in a circle, slowly. (Clarification: this is not, in fact, a picture of Schilthorn, it's one of the peaks that can be seen from Schilthorn)

The peak was yet another telecab up from our pension (2,970 meters at the summit). I am running out of adjectives to properly describe views of these mountains. Cool and pointy don't seem to be cutting it anymore. Unfathomable comes to mind.

From this vantage point, it is possible to see several prominent peaks: Titlis, Jungfrau, Mönch and Eiger.

We doodled about the observation deck and allowed the mountains to pose with us:

Friends of ours that had recommended Mürren, had also mentioned something about a cool hike down the mountain.

They also mentioned something about it taking 5.5 hours and at one point clinging to a metal chain and hugging the bare rock face to avoid plummeting to their deaths.

We of course remembered none of the details of this conversation.

Did I also mention that I'm too cheap to buy proper hiking boots? And instead choose to wear my treadless, falling-apart tennis shoes while scampering about snowy, icy mountains?

It seemed like an easy enough hike…

it'll probably take us like 30 minutes to reach the bottom

(said my brain).

And on the way down we got to watch telecabs zooming up the mountain! Awesome!

So some hiking in a downward fashion occurred. Some picture taking occurred. Everything seemed good and tranquil and fun.

And then

(pause for dramatic effect)

AND THEN:

All of a sudden, the path was replaced with a straight drop. I think there were some notches that distantly resembled stairs, but the three inches of ice and snow covering them made it impossible to tell for sure. Anthony managed the descent because he is an adult who'd planned ahead and worn proper footwear. I figured I could save 200 francs and override the laws of physics with stubbornness and frugality. 

I am an idiot.

What ensued was a ten minute battle of the wills in which I kept trying to inch my way down as my feet could not find one single bit of grip (coincidentally, I finally began to understand coefficient of friction about 7 years too late) and Anthony kept trying to derail my irrationally stubborn behavior by painting grim pictures of my death.

Eventually I had to admit he was right. So we turned around to head back up and all of a sudden it dawned on me how very far away the observation deck seemed.

The thing about hiking is, I really like going down. Going down is fun! It's what gravity wants us to do! Hiking downhill is the natural order of things! 

But going up is expending energy that might better be used for napping, or eating or reading books. It creates entropy in the universe and makes puppies cry.

But there was no other option. So I resolved to do it as quickly as possible and began power walking my way to the top.

And a good thing too, because I turned around and saw Anthony coming up behind me and cajoled him into letting me get this shot:

After our ordeal, we decided we needed to eat lunch while rotating slowly and came up with a plan for getting back to our pension which still involved some hiking, but with a much lower risk of fatality.

On Self Control

Boy do I love old things. I love old things so much that I have had to have a serious talk with myself about the very finite amount of space in our apartment and how accumulating old cool objects at my current rate will end with me becoming the star of a Hoarders episode. My new rule for myself is that any object purchased must be functional in some way. No more dustables.

But.....there's always a but.

We went to a brocante this weekend with my family and I fell hard for this vintage Swiss army lantern (and a whole bunch of other army things...between the five of us we left that tent outfitted for all manner of apocalyptic adventures) and really felt that I could not continue to live life without it. From my limited understanding of the vendor, I need to find a somewhat medium sized, square-ish battery type thing and then fill the rest of the space with cotton and it will work. So it's not functional...yet. But it will be! I can also clip it to my belt for maximum fashion points.

The same cannot be said for the nineteenth century blank ledger book that I also ended up buying...but really, there was no other way around it. I also amended The Rule to read as follows: no restraint need be exercised when confronted with awesome old ledger books. Or old photos. Or vintage medic armbands...

On the road to Interlaken

One of the nicest things about having a car here is that we can just hop in at our leisure and explore the countryside. A few weekends ago we decided to drive out to Interlaken and see what there was to see. 

Interlaken is...odd. There are really charming bits of it and then bits that look like they were really popular in the 1960's and have remained that way ever since. There was some great wall texture though and the sign above which delighted my designer's soul to no end.

Also lots of these floaty gentlemen about...not sure what the proper term for this past time is: paragliding? Hang gliding? Slow parachuting? Testing fate? Hanging from an umbrella in a jumpsuit? 

This is located in one of the many little towns we drove through on our way to Interlaken (I just like typing Interlaken, so I am going to use the word frequently throughout this post. Interlaken.) This gem looks out over a gas station where we bought some bread. It also marks the spot where I attempted to use my rudimentary German skills and learned that Swiss German (Schweizerdeutsch) is nothing like the German I learned high school. They say 'merci' for starters. Are you serious right now Switzerland? Thanks for leaving me stammering like an idiot at the cash register trying to choke out the one German word I know with any certainty and then throw another language at me. Color me confused. Although stammering like an idiot has pretty much become a way of life for me here. Along with looking forlorn and hoping people will read my mind without me having to utter one more bastardized syllable of French. Buuuut we can expand on the trials of French in a later post. One that is filled with complaining. For now, back to pastoral loveliness.

En route, we stopped occasionally to have "no, but do you SEE how amazing this view is?!" moments.

Guard of Interlaken.

The two Lakens of Interlaken.

Maidens of Interlaken.

Shingles of Interlaken.

Fancy Domiciles of Interlaken.

Future Nightmares of Interlaken.

Dueling Crests of Interlaken.

Signs that say 'Interlaken' of Interlaken.

So, there you have it. Interlaken in a nutshell. A cute sleepy little town that has much water flowing through it. I did a little reading about it after visiting and it seems like it is mainly a good place to go due to its close proximity to other places. Food for thought.