Reenactment of Historic Scene from the 1960s

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I think Issy's cold's getting worse instead of better. I tell her that she should stay in bed, but she says it was boring lying around in the apartment yesterday, so we set off together.

We've decided to catch a train up the Rigi, which a 1,700 metre high mountain on the north side of Lake Lucerne. It's overcast, and has started to rain.

The first leg of the trip is via a 90 year old paddle steamer, with a viewing platform inside the cabin down into the engines. I can't find Issy. We've only got second class tickets, and she doesn't seem to anywhere on the second class deck. I start to panic; surely someone would have noticed if she'd fallen overboard. I start to wonder if she might have inadvertently wandered up into the forbidden first class section with the toffs. I sneak up the stairs hoping that no one notices, and find her sitting outside all by herself. I tell her that we're not supposed to be here, but she says we should wait until someone tries to evict us, and then plead ignorance. She's no sooner said this when a ticket inspector appears seemingly out of nowhere. He does a masterful job of making us feel like the second class citizens that our tickets say we are, and we're summarily dismissed back to the lower deck.

We stop at the village of Vitznau, which is my trip down memory lane for the tour. I stayed here with my parents as a youngster in 1964, and my most vivid memory is of catching a fish off the end of the pier. My dad then got the hotel staff to cook it up for us for dinner. We find the hotel - the Vitznauerhof. I think it might have had a makeover since 1964; it certainly looks a lot fancier than I remember it; there's even a spa in the garden. We walk through the lobby and down to the pier. I find a stick which might pass for a fishing rod from a distance, and leave Issy to take some happy snaps of the reenactment. It's now very cold, wet and gloomy .... but we can pretend - Issy tests out one of the hammocks in the garden, and then makes as if to climb down a ladder into the lake for a swim.

As we walk back through the village we spot a fire truck on the side of the road, with a long traditional ladder attached to the top of it. It looks like something out of the 1930s. It still seems to be in excellent condition, although given the problems they seem to have with fires here we might have hoped for something a bit more modern. It‘s now pouring with rain so I don't think the village is at too much risk of burning down today, but I'm not sure how safe we’d feel here if it was a bit drier. But what’s this … we watch on as a bride emerges from the hotel next to where the fire truck's parked, and climbs into the back of it. I hope the village has got a real fire truck.

The next leg of the journey is via another cog railway. I realise now that I wasn’t too sure exactly what a cog railway was when we rode the one up Pilatus a couple of days ago, but now I get a closer look - there’s a line of cogs between the rails, and it works by gears under the train grabbing onto them and dragging it up the hill. So it seems I didn't need to worry about the cable breaking on the Pilatus railway after all; there was no cable. The cogs don’t look all that substantial; I think I preferred worrying about the cable.

We’re early, and there‘s only one other couple here, so we’ve got a whole carriage full of seats to chose from except two. I have a few goes at picking where we should sit, before Issy finally approves of my selection. Meanwhile the other couple's got the giggles. The lady says I look like I've been married for a while, so I should know by now that seat selection is always the wife's prerogative ....

The carriage fills up, and off we head up around the side of the mountain. The drop offs below us are almost vertical. It's still raining and we're now in the clouds, so we can't see too much. We get out at the summit into an icy gale and horizontal rain that feels like pins constantly stabbing us in the face. We can see what looks like a hotel about 50 metres away above us, so we struggle up the hill against the icy elements and collapse into the lobby. Issy's wearing gloves, a scarf, jeans, and a puffer jacket with a hood, and still says she's never felt so cold, and I'm now starting to regret my decision to leave my gloves, beanie and thick pants back at the apartment. But it's OK, we can warm ourselves up with some lunch.... so why today of all days do I get schnitzel with chips that's right up there on the list of the worst meals I've ever had. The "schnitzel" is mince meat that might possibly have some chicken in it, rolled into a flat cake, with some breadcrumbs thrown on, and the whole concoction then tossed into a frying pan with way too much oil. I've had much better meals out of the frozen food section at Coles.

Issy's got no intention of venturing outside, so I leave her to finish her nice warm soup while I set off for the summit, which looks to be up a path a hundred metres or so above the hotel. The wind's now turned from a gale into a hurricane, the cloud's so thick that I can't see more than a few metres in front of me, and the rain's drilling holes in my face. A beanie would certainly have come in handy right about now; I think my ears might be frostbitten - they feel like they're about to snap off. It feels like it's about minus twenty, so I can't quite work out why it isn't snowing. Maybe it needs to be colder in Switzerland to snow than it does back home, although on reflection that doesn't seem all that logical. I hope the cold isn't interfering with my thought processes. There's a large tower on the summit draped with multiple satellite dishes and other similar paraphernalia ... well I think it is; it's a bit hard to tell through the pelting rain and thick swirling cloud. I climb up as far as I'm allowed, and try to shelter from the elements. It's a losing battle. I can just see three Asian tourists through the clouds at the base of the tower trying to pose for photos, but they're struggling to stay vertical. I stumble back into the hotel, and ask Issy to check whether my ears are still attached. She says they're "radiating cold" so she's not going to touch them in case she gets frostbite too. I didn't know that cold could radiate.

The staff up here must have a perverse sense of humour; the music in the bathroom's the Beach Boys' "Surfing USA". We read that events held up here during the "summer" (that's now?) include traditional alpine wrestling, a gathering of alphorn blowers, and a yodelling festival.

We look out the hotel windows at three young Asian girls wearing blue ponchos with the word "Rome" and pictures of the Colosseum on the back of them. They're trying to take photos but the wind keeps blowing them off balance. They're all laughing, and eventually give up and walk backwards in unison down the hill. I really admire the enthusiasm and dedication of Asian tourists. I suspect that they don't get nearly as much annual leave as we do, and they're absolutely determined not to waste a second of it, irrespective of the weather. We're away for ten weeks so I'm not sure what our excuse is for being up here in a howling blizzard.

We notice a large group of other Asian tourists leaving through what seems to be alternative exit from the hotel. They get in a large lift and we squeeze in behind them. It's packed and I'm squashed up against the wall next to the door. The lift doesn't seem to want to go anywhere. Hmmmm. So why does it feel like everyone's staring at me? Minutes pass, and still no movement. Uh oh. It seems we're not moving because I'm leaning against the buttons so no one else can reach them. I manage to twist around and get us going to the cheers and high fives of the assembled multitude. That was very embarrassing.

We get off the train halfway down the mountain and transfer onto a cable car. We pass some people relaxing in a large spa on the mountainside. I suppose that might be one way of keeping warm and dry ... well warm at least.

We're jammed into the large cable car cabin with fifty fellow expeditioners, most of whom are part of the large Asian tour group. Every time we go over a pylon the car lurches violently, generating a chorus of "ooh"s from the Asians. Soon everyone else joins in, making for an entertaining ride. We need something to entertain us; visibility's still virtually zero. The cable car terminates at the lakeside village of Weggis, where it's then onto a ferry for the cruise back to Lucerne.

We head down to the riverfront for dinner. It's still raining so all the tables and chairs have been moved into a large open area under the buildings. The light's coming almost entirely from candles, and the heat from portable open fires. .... I wonder whether anyone's ever given any real thought as to why so many things seem to burn down here .....

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Photos

Vitznau
A reenactment of the fishing scene from the 1964 epic "The Sheehans go to Europe"