Advertisement
The Swiss Rhine
Rhine nourishes the cantons of Zurich and Schaffhausen in its Swiss sojourn where it leaps 23 metres to form Europe's largest waterfall, the . A labrador outruns its master on the other side of the river, getting in and out of the morning shadows sweeping the meadow. Treetops and the gabled roofs of ancient houses reflect in the blue-green waters. An idyllic European scene plays out on the shores of the Rhine. I follow its course.
I boarded a train to this old Swiss town just across the German border because of its proximity to Rhine fall. The river leaps 23 metres near Schaffhausen to form Europe’s largest waterfall. At the fall, the river is about 150 metres wide.
And there I was, on a silly search for the superlative in Switzerland. At the railway station, I looked up a map and found I could trace the river a few streets away and then follow it until the fall. No GPS, no Google Maps, not even a phone. The old-fashioned treasure hunt from map to map and sign post to sign post. That works in Europe.
Borders are a blur here. The canton of Schaffhausen juts out to the southern German state of Baden-Württemberg. In fact there is a German town, Büsingen, trapped inside the Swiss canton. The Americans had bombed the
All Saints' corridor
Schaffhausen became a nerve centre in central Europe thanks to the proximity to the "waterbahn" and later, the formation of a Benedictine monastery. canton during the World War II despite the Swiss neutrality. They later blamed it on navigational error and offered reparations.
The cobbled town square, the munster, the Munsterplatz, the Eisenbahnstrasse, Neustadt … the urban layout had become familiar to me after two weeks in Germany. The enormous bay windows on almost all buildings were in contrast with the wooden framework houses of Baden-Württemberg. On a zebra crossing, with a green light for pedestrians on, I realized I had indeed crossed the border. I survived a couple of cars in a hurry. I had not let German etiquettes blunt my Indian instinct.
Schaffhausen was a busy centre since the 11
th century, when the town developed around a Benedictine monastery dedicated to All Saints. The Kloster Allerheiligen has retained its medieval feel. People read newspapers in the long corridors of the monastery or just stare at the vines creeping over the inscriptions on the stone walls. There’s a museum attached to the monastery.
Schaffhausen’s strategic importance comes from its position on the Rhine, the medieval bahn. Ships had to anchor ahead of the fall, their cargo unloaded and transported on road to a port beyond the fall. Abbots, counts
Calm before the foam
The blue river is a picture of tranquillity just a kilometre ahead of its mighty fall at Neuhausen. and emperors vied for the control of the town, which was ensured a steady stream of revenue from taxes and duties. The town flourished as a marketplace for centuries before the advent of a rail line.
The Munot fortress, a circular stronghold that dates from the 16
th century, is a vantage point in the town. The guards at the fort have been ringing a bell every evening at 9, instructing businesses to close then and amusing tourists now.
The legendary river is calm on the shores of the town. Joggers and lovers, bicycles and prams keep the riverside walkway busy. A signpost says three kilometres to the fall. Take a right for a bus or walk or cycle straight along the river. I walk through a subway to cross a bridge that connects the cantons of Schaffhausen and Zurich.
Graffiti is prevalent throughout Europe but for Schaffhausen artists this is an explicit form of protest against the police. “Fuck the cops”, “All cops are bastards” are spray-painted on walls. Can’t figure if it is a single deviant’s frustration or a collective consciousness against authoritarian policing.
The river assumes its picture-postcard qualities as it meanders away
On the waterfront
Schloss Laufen am Rheinfall, a medieval castle on the river is now a boutique restaurant with a panoramic view over the fall. A train connects Schloss to Neuhausen. from the city. Swans and ducks fishing near the shores, huge trees and traditional houses reflected in the water, boats moored in shades, every sight slows down the traveller. The sun is out. I sweat and rejoice after two frozen weeks in Germany.
I pass a row of identical houses on the riverside. Each of them has a narrow strip of identical gardens stretching up to the walkway. After a winter slumber, gardens are sprouting. The river is basking in the sun. A few minutes of unrecordable deep blue. It reminds me of the futility of photography, and Photoshop. I remember how a cinematographer-friend narrated a sunset-red a few years ago: “No camera can capture that.”
On the other side of the river, in the canton of Zurich, timber houses watch over the rapid waters. Even the new buildings are modelled after the old patterns. Residents longue in the courtyards.
The river’s surface shows signs of turbulence, clashing with the rocky riverbed. It is preparing for the leap hardly a kilometre away. White scars of foam appear in the blue.
A train speeds on the overhead line to Schloss Laufen am Rheinfall. The medieval castle on
Sunny side of Europe
The largest waterfall in Europe contributes scores of tourists, in search of the silly superlative, to Schaffhausen and Neuhausen. the other side of the river is now a boutique restaurant with a panoramic view over the fall. This castle lorded over an area, which was an important transhipment area until the middle of the 19
th century when the railway was built. Now it depends on tourists the railway brings in.
I keep walking on the Schaffhausen side, circling the river’s bend, for a better view of the face of the fall. The river forks its way down around a rock jutting out sharply. People take photographs from the many viewing platforms on the way.
The path winds down along a giant waterwheel, which powered the medieval industries around the fall. The fall had given the region an iron ore smelter and an aluminium factory. It still produces a little electricity for the region. But its current contribution is the scores of tourists, in search of the silly superlative, who keep the hospitality industry alive.
I stray to the town on the left bank. Neuhausen’s cafes and restaurants, predictably, are closed in the afternoon. Lottery centres and döner kebab stalls remain open though. An emporium sells mystical objects from India and Tibet. The town, with a railway station connected to Schaffhausen, shares the glory of the fall.
I walk up to the railway station and then decide to walk back to Schaffhausen. The train from Schaffhausen to the German town of Singen wouldn’t leave until after an hour. That time is worth spent on the river side.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.108s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 9; qc: 56; dbt: 0.0596s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb