Moving Mountains

I wonder if people who have grown up in this area ever look up and don't see the mountains. They are big, imposing, solid and enduring but maybe eventually the brain just accepts their presence and moves on. It would be a shame if the sense of awe and wonder I feel when confronted by their silent, immense presence were to diminish.

We are catching the boat to Interlaken this morning which doesn't leave until 10:25 and with breakfast finished before 9, we are sitting on our balcony enjoying some down time before hitting the road. Maybe too much down time, as my mind has turned to toilet signage. I grew up to recognise the symbols for gender specific toilets as a wide legged stance for Gents and a filled-in triangle skirt for Ladies. The Swiss, it seems, take a much more imaginative approach to announcing their facilities and we have negotiated kings and queens, top hats and tiaras, cubism and in one establishment, a bow tie and a pink lacy bow nailed to the respective doors. Enough with the musing, though and back to the trip.

After a short boat trip from the hotel into the centre of Interlaken and a very pleasant coffee in Interlaken watching paragliders coming into land, we are heading for Grindelwald. The route is once again spectacular, threading up a narrow, winding valley, near vertical in places with trees clinging to the rock face in seeming defiance of gravity. Around the next bend and the wall was replaced by a narrow strip of green sloping meadow, dotted with the wide eaves of typically Swiss wooden chalets. The only animals in sight were goats, presumably of the mountain variety, but every now and then, the sound of cow bells filtered through the open window. And as we climbed slowly upwards, the occasional glimpses of snowy mountain peaks hinted at the spectacle to come.

Sitting having lunch in the sunshine under the watchful eye of the Eiger it is near impossible to find words to describe the majesty of the vista in front of us and I wish you were here to see it for yourself. Pushed up by the colliding of tectonic plates and ravaged by glaciers, the Alps are a testament to the beauty of our fragile planet. Grindelwald itself is like other Swiss towns we have visited, a picturesque village of ancient wooden buildings, expanded by tourism and concrete. But given the backdrop, it maintains a certain charm.

There are many webcams set up throughout the region allowing you to double check the cloud cover and potential views before making the trip into a particular area, unless of course you have booked in advance and feel that having paid the ferryman, you have to travel up into the clouds to see what clouds look like from the inside. We had planned to take the cog railway from Grindelwald to Kleine Scheidegg, which reportedly offers the best view of the Jungfrau mountain range, but the webcam showed the view to be obscured by clouds so we opted instead for a glass of vino and a cold beer in a local bar in Grindelwald. Despite the bustle of the passers by and the delicate sound of thunder echoing across the valley announcing the passing of an airplane or two, the overwhelming emotion was one of contentment and peace. And so there we stayed until the cloud began to roll down the slopes of the mountain and we decided it was time to head back for the train.

Today there was nothing particularly interesting to report, so instead I have includd the titles of 6 Pink Floyd albums and a nod to Rocky in the narrative. Possibly more for my entertainment than for yours.Read more