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23
Jun 25

Views from Jungfraujoch — “the top of Europe”

Today we hopped a train and then a gondola and then another train to the top of Europe. Jungfraujoch is the highest train station in Europe and … well, just listen to the narration in these two captivating videos.

  
Whoever that guy is, he can lay down a VO.

  
Seriously, you just don’t get quality voiceovers like that everywhere. We’re pretty lucky to have stumbled upon something of that stature for the site.

Here’s another thing about Jungraujoch. Two-plus miles of elevation is a lot of elevation. A lot, a lot. The highest elevation I’ve ever lived at is about 804 feet. Depending on the source, we currently live at 43 feet or 48 feet. (And those five feet are important, right? That’s almost a 12 percent increase.)

But up there, on Jungfraujoch, anything more than walking around can make you feel a little lightheaded. Your lips will go purple. You will measure your steps. You’ll occasionally lean on a wall. But it’s all worth it for these views.

And I could write more about the views. I could write hundreds of words. I could torture us both with poetry about them. But, instead, here are 15 photos. Enjoy.

Those views are pretty great, no? The next post will show the scenery from our way down the mountain.


22
Jun 25

Cycling in Switzerland

Our starting view for the morning — at least after a one-stop train ride.

Click to embiggen.

That’s Interlaken, which is where we rented bikes today. We ditched the in-laws — leaving them sitting happily by a lake from their balcony view — and rode all over Switzerland. Including by the same lake.

We took a wrong turn, because we don’t know the roads here, of course. And so that added a climb we weren’t anticipating. We don’t climb a lot at home anymore, living just 43 feet above sea level and all. But we found a lot of barns. Here are a few.

It looks like a livestock area, but we didn’t see too many animals.

Here’s one that looks abandoned. Or close to it?

OK, last barn, a closeup.

Look at this beautiful waterfall!

Those photos were all from this beautiful valley.

We’re riding rented gravel bikes — for some reason — on a single track there. We’d started with e-bikes, but those weren’t going to get the job done for the course we’d planned. And the guys didn’t offer us roadies. Maybe he didn’t have any, I’m not sure. Anyway, gravel bikes, for the uninitiated, have a similar geometry to road bikes. They’re slightly heavier, offer a bigger tire for gravel and such. The difference is the difference. You notice it. It behaves fine, just not quite like what you’re used to. And that’s the story I’m sticking with throughout the day, on both downtown roads, the highway, and these single track paths.

The next time we go through a valley like this, I realized, I am going to have to ride ahead for photos like this. But these are good too.

At the foot of the day’s big climb, I did something I’ve never done before: I broke the chain on my rental bike. I tried to switch into the smaller gear on the front and suddenly found myself freewheeling and fighting to get unclipped before I fell over. When I stopped, the chain was behind me. Behind me came a Frenchman, and I asked him if he would share this news with my lovely bride, who was a bit ahead of me — no phones! — and he did. After a time, she came back for me, and we found a train station and rode back to the town where the bike shop was. I freewheeled the thing, like a balance bike, back to the shop. They repaired it with no fuss, but the delays ruined our intended plans. So our second ride was called Plan B.

Also, it was 90 degrees today, and we didn’t have enough water. Fortunately, we ran into a couple of public fountains. Public fountains are awesome. Douse your head. Slam a lot down into your belly, then have some more, because you’re a rule breaker. And then fill up your bottles, hoping the next fountain isn’t too far away. Because public fountains are awesome.

Not that we were staring at the lakes and waterfalls and making ourselves thirstier or anything.

It’s a beautiful area to ride in, even on this made up route that we improvised. And the drivers here are much, much more respectful here than what you get in most any place in the U.S. Plus, the color of this water …

We just got to ride alongside that lake for a good long while.

Totally worth it, she said.

And, look! Proof I saw it all, too!

Too bad I ruined the intended ride. Then again, who can climb big climbs anymore? Maybe I did us a favor?

Tomorrow: We go to Jungfraujoch!


21
Jun 25

The mountain massif, Pilatus

We got in one of these things today. Gondolas are amazing. But let me back up.

We took a train, and then had a short walk. And then there was the meeting with a tour guide, Rolf. A curly coiffed man of chiseled stature that should have landed him on stage. Perhaps it did! But now he is here, leading this most isolated life. Meeting people for a few minutes, giving them a sticker, telling them which bus to get on, doing 11 minutes of patter on the bus, which includes several reminders to not leave things on the bus, because we aren’t returning, and then dealing with the lady who left a diaper bag on the bus. And then he directs us to those red gondolas. And then to another, larger cableway lift. At the top of the tour, he says, in his pleasant, practiced, kindly authoritative way, “We will be meeting here at 3:30 to depart at 3:45. If you have any questions I will be in the cafeteria for about half an hour.”

You wonder what he’s eating there. He brought a sack lunch. What’s he reading? Or does he just stare out the window, dreaming of after shave smells gone by?

That’s what he looks like. He looks like a man who enjoyed splashing on that smell every day. His skin looks like it looked forward to it. There’s just no other way to say it. He would have been the 45-year-old who would have been unironically cast in the part of a 30-year-old in a 1974 movie. A bit too handsome and mature for the part. And a Hai Karate aficionado. Old Spice for the really big days.

Anyway, a few of the views going up to the top of Pilatus.

The four of us walked around up there. My bride and I went on two of the outdoor walks. Her parents appreciated the views from indoors. It’s full of rich views. As rich as the lines now gaining way onto Rolf’s face, rugged and firm as the mountains themselves. Have a look.

Pilatus’ highest peak is a modest 6,983 feet, but everything up there offers commanding views of Lucerne, below.

The descent from Pilatus involves the Pilatus Railway, named the world’s steepest cogwheel railway. We did it in 2022 and, honestly, it was better. The cogwheel had older cars, which made the gradient — at one point, 48 percent! — feel much more adventurous.
The cars were steam until the 1930s. What we rode a few years ago was from the 1970s. They were hyping the new cars on our first trip here, and something has been lost with the upgrades. It’s just another closed-air thing you can do. Then it felt — there’s not a word here, thinner, smaller, less substantial, shabbier, none of these work — like the ride itself and the machine you were on, were full of character. Now the steepness is the only character, and even that visceral feeling is mitigated by modern glass.

At the end of the cogwheel ride the lady caught up to her diaper bag. Rolf was the hero he’d always been meant to be. So was Eddie, the plucky young bus driver with the hip hair who should probably be on a beach and not a bus. We never saw him again. With Rolf, though, and that diaper bag, we all crossed the street from the cogwheel station at the base of the mountain and walked over to a boat. Here, we enjoyed a nice, quiet boat ride that completes what they call “The Golden Round Trip.” It’s a nice boat ride. The views are scenic.

But it does feel a bit tacked on to the rest of the experience.

I spent much of the time trying to stay out of the sun, and enjoying the breeze.

We had dinner at a lakeside cafe. I had some German-inspired currywurst. Quite tasty.

And then we caught the train back to our hotel. Whereby I marveled, as I do, at the everyday beauty of this place.

What must it be like to wake up each morning and see a waterfall out your back windows? Or be surrounded by these lake and mountain views each time you come home?

The human mind has a weird capacity for adaptation, but how long would it take to get used to something like this? “Ho hum. Again. Yes, yes. It’s hilly and mountainous and rugged. But I’d enjoy a change of pace. I could sure use some flat.”

I wonder if that every enters into the minds of the locals. It will surely come to my mind tomorrow. We’re riding bikes!


20
Jun 25

On the rail again

Up early this morning for a small Italian breakfast, then a short walk to an Italian train station — most of Italy’s transit workers are on strike, we found out two or three days ago and got lucky with a backup plan. Our route looked like this.

We arrived in Interlaken, as planned, in what is almost the center of Switzerland. Definitely it is one of the tourist centers. And who could blame the tourists for coming to places with views like this?

And that’s just on the way there.

After a quick bus ride we arrived at our hotel — a small little place run by a kind, small man and his family, with Swiss efficiency. There are maybe 16 rooms. This is the balcony view we’ll enjoy (but not slow down enough to see often) for the next few days. That view is not bad.

Click to embiggen.

If you just look down at the water, it is awfully inviting in the middle of this heat wave.

We took a ride back into Interlaken for dinner. And by “we,” I mean my lovely bride and her parents. This is an in-laws trip, which I don’t think I’ve mentioned. Here they all are after dinner.

A few years back, 2019 in fact, we decided we should take a trip, and this year we were able to do it. And now here we are, in beautiful Switzerland.

Tomorrow, we go up a mountain.


19
Jun 25

It is dangerously hot

It is very hot. It was 91 degrees throughout the afternoon. We were outside. Conceding the sweat. Seeking out water where we could. (We could not find enough of either.) Trying to hide in the shade. Have you figured it out yet? Where we are? Here’s one last hint. This is the Basilica di Santa Maria delle Grazie.

So, if you haven’t guessed, we are in Milan, Italy. (But only until tomorrow.)

We took a Tesla Uber to get there. The basilica, of course, not Milan. No way I’d stay in that car long enough for a real trip. What a stupid car on the inside. Just a blank interior and a giant distracting screen with a UI that looks like it came from a cheap Canadian dystopian sci-fi show.

Both the car and this church are places I hadn’t ever thought of experiencing — some things you just don’t ever contemplate. For the former, I was grateful we only went a short distance and not over water or that the driver didn’t use the self-drive murder mode in our short trip. For the latter, it just didn’t seem a place I’d ever get the chance to see. Never something I’d considered trying. Not a goal. It was not unobtainable, just never on the radar.

Sort of like pedestrians, to the famous Teslers sensors.

Outside the Basilica di Santa Maria delle Grazie, we were given tickets. Inside, we had to display our passports. Then we went through an air filtration system — or so they said. And then, in another room, there it was, The Last Supper.

Leonardo da Vinci painted it from 1495–1498, in the refectory of the Convent, using a tempera fresco technique as both an experiment and an expediency to logistics. It is a fast-drying style, permanent in the sense that it doesn’t allow for alterations, but temporary as it relates to time. (Two early copies of The Last Supper are known to exist, thought to have been done by Leonardo’s assistants. The copies have survived with a lot of their original detail. One is in Switzerland, the other in Belgium.)

Today’s venerable works were once just things on walls. The room has been used as a stable, a hospital (during WWI) and a dining hall. At one point, in 1652, they cut a door in that wall, and through da Vinci’s representation of Jesus’ feet, to create a direct path to the kitchen. Late in the 16th century, the painting was considered all but ruined. The first restoration was attempted in 1726. However that went, a few decades later a curtain was installed, meant to protect the painting. Instead, it trapped moisture, and whenever the curtain was pulled, it scratched the flaking paint. Because of the way da Vinci painted it, much of what we see today is not original.

So the filtration process is amusing. But there you are. You walk through that one glass door from the filtration room and suddenly you’re confronted with the work of a master.

There’s also a display for the visually impaired.

The mural has gone through a series of more successful restorations over the years. A man named Luigi Cavenaghi was an innovator of his time. He worked on it from 1903 to 1908. At the time, apparently, addressing external factors (like the room, or the building) was a revolutionary idea.

One of Cavenaghi’s students, the self described failed painter Mauro Pellicioli, updated the restorations after World War II. He, again, updates the methods used for work on the famed wall. (During the war it was covered in sandbags as a precaution.) Pellicioli would become one of Italy’s most important restorers. Some of the most famous works you can see have experienced his work.

Later, Pelliciloli’s student, Pinin Brambilla Barcilon was tasked with the most recent restoration. It was the 1980s by then, and the art of restoration had become a science. She removed older glazes, and did much of the work that we see today.

On the wall, opposite is a painting by Milan native Giovanni Donato da Montorfano, descendant from a family of painters. His depiction of the Crucifixion (1495) is his best known work.

This fresco is believed to have some figured painted by da Vinci, as well.

We left Renaissance Milan, taking a bus from the Basilica di Santa Maria delle Grazie (which was constructed between 1465 and 1482). Here’s our parting view.

In retrospect, we could have taken those scooters.

We went over to La Scala, but the famed 18th century opera house wasn’t accepting tours. Odd, considering the many, many, tourists milling about. So we sat in the shade of the piaza until it was time for our tour of the Duomo di Milano.

The Milan Cathedral is beautiful, if you like the gothic renaissance style.

They started work here in 1386, and just finished the work in 1965. It supposedly seats 40,000. I wouldn’t know. The tour turned out to be a bust. We started on the roof, which was unimpressive. We came from the back left, across the front and down on the right side. When we got inside the cathedral told the tour, “Non oggi.” Not today. It seems there was an event scheduled for the afternoon, and our tour company can’t or didn’t check the cathedral’s event calendar.

What you can see from the back of one of the large parts of the church hinted that we missed a lot.

Someone else who was on the tour said he’d been on it before. He said we saw nothing compared to what we should have been able to see.

We’ll be getting a refund.

Took a cab back to the hotel. Cooled down in a restaurant that was conveniently located across the street. Settled in early, hoping that, this, day two, would be the end of the jet lag. Tomorrow, we are traveling by train.