Losing herself amidst the snow white peaks of the Swiss Alps, Lakshmi Sharath realises that in Switzerland, every mountain tells a different tale, and every journey uphill is a new experience.
“WI would rather be with my grandfather on Alp than anywhere on earth.” — Johanna Spyri, Heidi. I was a wide-eyed girl when I fell in love with Switzerland and the Alps, a world that I saw through the eyes of a fictional child, Heidi. Years later, when I visited the country, I understood why Heidi was fixated with the Alps. The mountains were home to her as she would rather choose the life with her grandfather in an Alpine village than live in an upscale city. Standing in front of my 150-year-old hotel, the Victoria Jungfrau, and watching the sunset, I almost felt like Heidi, wishing to leave my life in the urban melee and settle in a little mountain town in Switzerland.
I was in Interlaken, watching the snow white peaks of the Jungfrau turn golden as a paraglider landed in the meadow below. The mountains were calling. Behind my hotel was Harder Kulm, Interlaken’s own home mountain, as it was fondly called. And in front was Jungfrau. We decided to explore the former.
A short walk from our hotel took us past the Interlaken Hotel, another relic in the town which had hosted Lord Byron in the 19th century. The waters of the River Aare gushed as pretty red and yellow trains made us stop in our tracks. The road curved a bit and besides the loud siren from the trains, one could barely hear anything. We reached the furnicular station where two coaches lay in wait for us, taking us from 1860 feet to a height of 4,335 feet, a steep journey to the summit of the mountain, that took barely 10 minutes.
Scenic splendour
If the views from the cable car were pretty, then the scenery from the summit was absolutely breathtaking. Flanked by the aquamarine waters of the two lakes — Thun and Brienz — and surrounded by the mountains Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau, the entire town of Interlaken was bathed in the evening light as it lay sandwiched between the lakes. The paragliders were floating in the air. Standing at the edge of the bridge, sipping wine and biting into cheese, I saw the sun finally calling it a day, wrapping the town, the lakes, the valley and the mountains into a deep slumber.
Morning saw us all up and ready to leave for Jungfrau — a journey that would take us up the Alps, to the top of Europe at 11,332 feet. The journey here became the destination. Carpets of green were spread out for us as wild flowers swayed, intoxicated by the breeze. Wisps of clouds shuttled around from one mountain peak to another. We changed trains in quaint railway stations situated right amidst meadows. The mountains were a constant companion.
We stopped at Lauterbrunnen, and then at Kleine Scheidegg, and finally we were on the way to Jungfrau, travelling through a 7 km-long tunnel with the railway track carved right into the heart of the mountains. The Jungfraubahn is more than a century old and the cog railway took us to the highest station in the Alps.
It got darker and colder as we climbed up. But then, this was a dream trip. And finally, we were at the top of Europe. The station was dark and cold, but it opened into a world of ice and snow. We were lured into the Ice Palace where penguins and dolphins stood freezing as we walked in the corridor carved out of ice.
There was the Alpine Adventures and we even saw a 360 degree movie of the Jungfrau. We then headed to the highest observatory, the Sphinx, that opened out into a platform that took us into a white world. And a chocolate factory was just inaugurated by tennis legend Roger Federer, who was warming up for his tennis match played out on the snow with ski champion Lindsay Vonn. Munching chocolates, sipping wine, we cheered as the match ended. But the trip was far from getting over. As we headed towards the restaurant, familiar refrains could be heard. After all, this was Yash Chopra’s own territory and there had to be a Bollywood restaurant right atop the Alps.
In Switzerland, every mountain tells a different tale, and every journey uphill is a new experience. Fairy tale trains, cable cars, gondolas and even coaches took us up through narrow and steep tracks, treating us to fabulous views of valleys and villages tucked inside them. My favourite journey was the trip to Schynige Platte, where romance and nostalgia took me into a world of magic.
Lucky ride
It was not the mountains or the meadows that fascinated me. Neither was I carried away by the flowers or the forests. It was my charming little red train, slowly chugging away uphill, drawn with a couple of open carriages with old wooden benches, that brought out an old world charm. The train has been making this 50 km journey for over 100 years, and I was lucky as the tracks open only during summer. The landscape was a riot of blue, green and white as the lakes, Thun and Brienz, gave us company, passing by verdant meadows while snow white peaks stared us right in the eye.
And when I reached Schynige Platte, more colours were splashed around as I entered the alpine garden with over 600 species of plants. But before I knew it, it was time to tumble downhill as the train huffed and puffed its way.
We changed tracks the next day and decided to head out to Grindelwald, a town that seemed to have been created just for tourists. Our destination was First, the mountain known for adventurers and hikers, where paragligers floated around in the sky, flying from one mountain to another. We took a cable car to the peak where lakes and meadows competed for attention. But then, I was just content to sit amidst a sea of yellow and purple flowers and meditate on the mountains.
Back at the hotel, I watched the Alps converge all around me. The sky was a pale blue, turning slowly grey, as the clock announced 9 pm. It was summer and the sun was in no mood to bid a quick farewell, although the night sky was rather impatient, without giving the twilight hour a chance to make its presence felt. But even as the light faded away, the peaks glistened in the moonlight beckoning me. And as I eventually drifted off to sleep, I could hear the distant siren from a train calling out to me.