weekend


29
Jun 25

St Martin Church, Chur

Before we caught the train out of Chur, we took a little walking tour of the Old Town. (Pronounce it “Coor.”) Two churches were on the agenda, but one of them was closed for visitors. St. Martin’s Church, however, was a highlight.

St. Martin’s square marks the historical north-south route through the inner city. The fountain, decorated with the signs of the zodiac, and the statue date to 1716. Much of it is still original. Also, it provides you cold water, which is a treat on a hot day like this.

Next to the fountain there’s a relief for the visually impaired, that gives a perspective on the entire city. St Martin’s is in the back of the shot, in the center of the relief. You can see the patina on the steeple.

It looks like this.

  

The Romanesque church was built in the 8th century, mostly destroyed 600 years later in one of those city-defining fires. Using parts of the original building, it was rebuilt in late Gothic style. It’s the largest late-Gothic church in the region. and was a critical part of the ancient town’s Reformation.

I doubt this door is original.

Wikipedia has a list of 116 churches named after St. Martin (there are five saints named Martin, our guy here is St. Martin of Tours) around the world, and this one isn’t even on the list!

After that fire, the tower was completed in 1534, complete with a watchman’s room and Renaissance dome. It stayed like that for 350 years, then got a neo-Gothic upgrade, which didn’t go over well in the neighborhood. Then came the current roof design in 1918 as part of a larger renovation. the tower was given a pointed roof as part of the church’s overall renovation.

I like the little details. This leaf is hand-carved in each of the congregations pews.

Off to the side, where musicians or choir members sit, are some other stylistic carvings.

At the end of the renovation, now 100-plus years ago, the nave received stained glass windows by Augusto Giacometti depicting the Christmas story. So these are relatively new parts of the church, still.

On the walk back to our hotel, and the train station, we passed some picture windows in the stores that had some antiques of their own. This looks like a National Cash Register (of Dayton, Ohio) Model 79, a nickle-plated number that they debuted in 1897. They’ll fetch you a pretty penny at an auction today, but what a beautiful showpiece.

Anyone want to guess what this is?

Figured it out yet?

Yeah?

No?

This is a cylindrical calculator. It will work out multiplication, division and more using graphically displayed logarithms. And if you need precision, you’re set up. This calculator is accurate to six decimal places. This is a smaller model, a 10

I’ve never seen one of those before.

You’re going to see some more sites you’ve never seen in the next post. I’ll be sharing a few of the views from our last train ride, today’s experience on the Bernina Express. Don’t miss it!


28
Jun 25

Riding the Glacier Express

We rode out of Zermatt on The Glacier Express, a panoramic train through the Swiss Alps. The whole route is a 181 mile experience, bypassing the local stops, and maximizing the views with great big windows. They call it the “slowest express train in the world.”

We didn’t take the whole journey, but stopped in Chur, which gave us most of the scenic views. We ambled our way to the Hotel of Three Kings, where we stayed on the second floor, after temporarily breaking the elevator. (All the luggage went in, something shifted and jammed the doors. The attendant had the special trick key to solve the problem. The rooms didn’t have air, which is important just now, but they did have fans, which were helpful. Chur — pronounce it “Coor” — is Switzerland’s oldest city. We’re only here for the night. We have one more scenic train ride to take tomorrow. But, first, enjoy a few of the views from the Glacier Express.

Tomorrow is our last train ride, taking us to our last stop on this grand adventure. We’ll ride the Bernina Express. Come back and see the views.


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!


12
Mar 23

And now, on to our vacation

After traveling to Spain via Amsterdam (almost Zurich) and New York, we attended two days of conference work, and just a few of Barcelona’s wonderful sites, we returned to the airport. But not for a plane, thank goodness, but a car.

We then pointed that car three hours north. We figured, let’s do most of the drive in daylight. You know, for the views, but also because we were in another country, on roads we’ve never seen before. But also for the views.

So we did that, GPS-aglow on the dash of a blue Volkswagen rental. It is a sedan-over-cross-UV, the sort of hideously designed thing where you have to step up, and duck down, at the same time, to get in. For four or five days, though, it’s perfect.

Here’s why, that great big beautiful GPS in the dash. Possibly the backup camera. And the side mirrors fold in. This is critically important.

So these shots are a but a few glimpses we saw as we made our way up the autovĂ­a, A-2 and C-14, with the idea of the Pyrennes looming ahead of us.

After we put the big city and a bit of sprawl behind us, the car started pointing up, and it never stopped pointing up. The airport, the car rental place are right on the shore of the Mediterranean. It is, for the Spainard, a seasonably cool early spring. They’re all still wearing coats down there as the mercury heroically makes its way into the mid-70s, or 23 degrees, Celsius. You can be sure that everyone we saw in Barcelona wearing light clothing was a tourist. Someone we know at the conference said he went back to his room and changed out of shorts one day, because he felt conspicuous.

In light of that, we’re spending the next few nights above the snow line.

We’re leaving Spain for this vacation. When my lovely bride built out this trip — she is the chief builder outer of all of our adventures and she is, despite the occasional logistical hiccup, undefeated — we considered going to the beach or going into the mountains.

We quickly decided that we made the correct choice. Not without plenty of consultation mind you. We talked with colleagues, neighbors and I even asked a few questions of a college buddy of mine who is from Spain. They all pointed us this way.

This way is to a microstate, population 80,000, bordered by France to the north and Spain to the south. We’re staying in a small village in that small state. Wikipedia tells me it is the 10th largest city, by population. Wikipedia says 1,641 live there. It is a ski resort town.

To get there, we just keep climbing up and up and up. Then there is, finally, a ski lodge. We get the key from a little black box. The keyring also holds a remote control that orders the elevator. The car elevator. You have to line the vehicle up between two narrow curb markers, pull your mirrors in, eeeeeease into a small cargo elevator, turn off the engine for CO2 purposes, and then wonder if the elevator does what the AirBnB hosts says it does.

And when it does, you’re in a creepy, dark, underground parking deck, dimly lit by fluorescent bulbs on motion sensors, with support pillars every 1.5 parking spaces. Navigating this would be tricky. My parking in college was substantially more demanding, and, what’s I am the grandson of men who drove great big trucks for a living. The weak link here is the Volkswagen, which, tonight, sits crooked in our assigned spot. And we are now settling into Andorra.

For dinner, we had a reservation at Surf Arinsal, an Argentian steak house highly recommended by the AirBnB. Just look at that menu, won’t you?

And look at this homemade bubble bread with garlic.

Tomorrow, we start the sightseeing!