Lakes and Lions

August 12-13

By Sunday we needed to wash some clothes. So I walked around the block to Jet Wasch and found it closed.

Since this wasn’t going to be wash day and, what’s more, rain was in the forecast for Monday, we decided on a change of plan.

We’d take the boat ride on Lake Luzern while the sun was out. We bought two tickets to Weggis at the Tourist Information Office in the railroad station. It was a little more than a half hour each way and we’d kill an hour in Weggis.

Luzern is right on the edge of the Alps. Lower mountains, maybe the Jura, which give the Jurassic Period and “Jurassic Park” their names, are on one side of town and the Alps on the other.

Mount Pilatus looms over the city.

Much of the lake is framed by Alps. The water on Sunday afternoon was covered with sailboats. 

The mountain peaks, the sails pointing toward the heavens—I wonder if that is the inspiration for the way they make up the bed at Rothaus. 

We passed a beach, probably artificial, full of people. We stopped at a landing called Hertenstein, where several passengers in wheelchairs got off the boat.

A lady who could have been 60 was wearing the tiniest bikini I have seen in a while and tying up her kayak at a small pier. She looked terrific.

Weggis was the next port of call. What we saw consisted of a small stretch of shops and restaurants. Most of the shops and some of the bars were closed.

The Reformed Church was open, so we went inside. It was a very spare, cool interior, wooden pews and white walls. Three stained glass windows stood in the apse behind the communion table. 

Each was a portrait. The one on the left may have been Ulrich Zwingli in his floppy hat. The right-hand man could have been Martin Luther (judging by his Buster Brown haircut). 

The middle figure was a rather angry-looking Jesus shown over a passage from Matthew’s Gospel: “Come to me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

I can’t remember for sure, but it may have been Luther’s translation, which I looked up and reads: “Kommet her zu mir alle, die ihr mühselig und beladen seid; ich will euch erquicken.” I remember that the words “beladen” and “erquicken” were in the passage on the window.

A little farther along the street in Weggis was a restaurant called Zee, where Joanna had white wine soup with fish from Lake Luzern. It was essentially a chowder, not a strong flavor but not bad. I drank an Eichhof, the locally brewed beer that seems to be everywhere here.

The boat back was a different story from the one we took out. We were standing in a long line winding around the building and couldn’t see the boat, but we heard unusual music, slow, distant, and mysterious sounding. 

The line began to move. When we came in sight of the boat, we found a trio of Alpenhorns playing some of the most interesting music I’ve heard on this trip. It’s where Joanna got the photo of the day.

The boat was a side-wheeler and it may have been driven by a bona fide steam engine. At least, the exposed pistons and the rhythm of operation suggested as much.

After we got off the boat that the pigeon hit my arm. And my hat. We were right by the lake, so I just dipped the hat in and then took a little water to rinse the sleeve of my shirt.

After a rest at the hotel, we went out in search of the Lion monument. 

This is a large figure of a dying lion carved into the side of a cliff. The inscription reads: “Helvetiorum fidei ac virtuti.” 

That is to say, “To the faithfulness and manhood of the Helvetians.”

When they want to be inclusive, the Swiss write in Latin and call themselves by the name that the Romans gave them, Helvetii. That way no one of the languages of the country—German, French, Italian, or Romansch—is favored.

The country’s official name, I understand, is also Latin—Confederatio Helvetica.

The monument commemorates Swiss mercenaries who died during the French Revolution. They held the Tuileries against the revolutionaries for several days. Most were killed or executed.

They were fighting for money, but they had sworn to fight for the king, and so they did to the end.

The monument is more impressive than I had expected. I had seen photos and thought it would be a carved piece of stone on a foundation.

Not so. This is a deep bas relief in a niche carved into a sheer face of living rock. 

We tried to go to that local bar, Cafe Suisse, for dinner. But it closes early on Sunday. The chairs were already on the tables and the lady was sweeping up when we got there.

A short way up the street was Restaurant Fritschi, right across from the Stadtkeller. Fritschi actually had fondue at a reasonable price. 

Most places want to charge $60 to $80 per person. For the pair of us that would come to more than $100 for a pot of melted cheese.

This one was under $30. The menu also had traditional Swiss mac and cheese, which Joanna remembered was recommended by Rick Steeves. So she opted for that.

The fondue came with brown bread. Both dishes were very cheesy, of course, and also very good.

Monday, Jet Wasch turned out to be not a laundromat but a wash-and-fold service. I left the laundry there and, not needing to wait for the washer and dryer to finish, I went straight back to hotel. 

It was time to visit yet another church. This one was founded by the Franciscan Order and the building dates back to the late 1200s. 

First we stopped at a clothing store called Creative Art, which was closing out summer merchandise. Joanna bought a stylish take on a bomber jacket.

The Franciscan church starts off Gothic enough. There are ancient-looking frescos surrounding the door.

But inside, a variety of Baroque decoration has been added to the original Gothic architecture. The altarpiece and two side altars flanking the sanctuary are elaborate fantasies in marble. The altarpiece is crowned with a dove backlit by a window, which reminded me of Bernini’s Dove Window at St. Peter’s.

The wooden pulpit is billed as one of the most elaborate in Switzerland.

There are several plazas on the north side of the river. They have names like Muhlenplatz, Hirschenplatz, Weinmarkt. The buildings that front the squares have striking frescos. So we went in search of them.

We also visited Pandora and Swarovski in search of a charm for Joanna’s bracelet, but came up empty.

Rain started as we were walking along Hertsteinstrasse so we ducked into a pizzeria called Einhorn to drink some wine and wait out the storm. 

We wound up having dinner there—spaghetti Bolognese and antipasto, a variety of hot and cold appetizers. I had a Primitivo and Joanna a Nero d’Avola.

We came back across the Chapel Bridge and stopped for more wine at Cafe Wirtshaus, at the junction of Burgerstrasse and Pfistergasse. We had to try it because it always seems busy whenever we pass. 

They had three reds by the glass. One is from France and is called “You Fuck My Wine?” No, really. It is.

So I had to sample that one. I have not seen “Raging Bull,” but in “Waiting for Guffman” one of the men trying out for a part in the Blaine, Missouri, musical pageant does a scene from “Raging Bull”: “You fuck my wife?”

I tried to explain it to the waitress. I don’t know if she got it or not.

Anyhow, the wine came across as very acidic. Maybe it sat in the open bottle too long. Maybe it’s acidic by nature. Been there, done that.

The second glass was a Tuscan, a little less sharp than a conventional Chianti, and very good.

Good night, all, and may your fondue always be reasonable. 

Harry

Walls, Bridges, and Electric Shock

August 10-11

We stepped out Friday morning and found something unusual only a short stroll from the hotel, A street named Pfistergasse has at least four establishments that we counted called “Harry’s.” 

We saw Harry’s Swiss Watches, Harry’s Fashion (which has more watches), Harry’s Souvenirs, Harry’s Bakery. 

I think they’re owned by the same company, because a lady from the Swiss Watches shop took us to the Fashion store, where I bought a pocket watch.

I thought this worth reporting because I have never seen so many businesses called Harry’s, and not one of them a bar.

Next came one of the medieval bridges, the Spreuerbrucke, which is decorated with painted panels of a danse macabre. From what I can make out, each panel shows a scene from normal life, but unaccountably there is a skeleton walking around somewhere, the bride at a wedding maybe. Perhaps it is to remind us of our mortality so we’ll obey authority for our own good. 

“Spreu” means “chaff.” For some reason, the bridge was the only place in the city where people were allowed to dump the chaff from their grain into the river. 

Nearby is the Needle Dam. The Reuss River that runs through Luzern flows from the lake. The level of Lake Luzern changes with the seasons. 

During the spring thaw, it rises with the snow melt. Later in the year, the inflow tapers off. 

To keep the lake deep enough for navigation, and also to avoid flooding of lakeside villages, the river has a dam made of removable planks. 

When water flow to the lake is high, planks are taken out to allow for more drainage. During low-flow seasons, planks are replaced. Right now, most of the river is dammed. The water is perhaps a meter higher on the upstream side of the dam than on the downstream side. 

Quite a stretch of town wall is preserved on the northern side of the city. It runs in steps up the hill from the riverbank and then fronts a large park on a plateau. 

The wall has several towers, including one with a huge clock. Another has a small gate to the outside, where we found the park, some playing fields, a 100-meter track, a school, and a small exhibition farm. 

It had been a steep climb up, so we sat on the patio at the farm for a drink and a rest. It was fun to watch the chickens among the flowers, the pig and the goat in their pens. Also the baby crawling across the concrete to get the goat droppings.

We saw signs about larger animals, but didn’t see them at first. Later we walked along more of the wall by some more towers and came to a large fenced meadow. 

There were signs hanging from the wire fence. Joanna reached to hold one still so she could read it. 

She let go. Fast. The fence and the sign were electrified. We’ve never seen an electric fence without a warning sign before.

Some cattle and a llama were resting in the shade down the hill.

Joanna also noticed one of the more curious things that we saw, a fig tree. 

Fig trees have a hard time in New Jersey. The fig tree by Joanna’s door couldn’t make it. And winter in Luzern is a lot tougher. 

Maybe it’s a different variety of fig tree. The leaf on this one was bigger than that on Joanna’s late specimen, but the silhouette is the same. So is the aroma.

Later we strolled on a shopping street called Hertensteinstrasse. We stopped at a cafe called Heini for quiche, tuna, and Dunkel Brune, a dark beer.

We crossed back by the Chapel Bridge (Kapellbrucke). This also has painted panels under the roof. They tell about significant moments in the history of Luzern. 

At least, that’s what I read in the guide book. I couldn’t make out the what the captions said on the panels. Some depicted incidents from the lives of local saints, and others commemorated battles.

We stopped, too, at the Jesuit Church, which dates to 1666 and may be the earliest example of Baroque architecture in Switzerland. The Jesuits came to Zurich earlier than that by maybe 100 years. They were the hit men for the Counter Reformation. 

While Zwingli and his sympathizers were taking over and stripping churches in Zurich and Geneva. Luzern became one of the areas in Switzerland to remain in the Roman Catholic fold.

The church is dedicated to St. Francis Xavier, also a Jesuit. A large painting on the roof of the nave shows him ascending into heaven on a chariot.

The altar is flanked by what appears to be red marble. According to Rick Steeves, the columns are wood covered with composite made with marble chips.

Later on, we stumbled on a local place for dinner. I’m not sure of the name. Maybe simply Cafe Suisse. 

It’s right in the tourist section, just down from the Stadtkeller, which has a floor show involving yodeling and concertinas. On a bad night you can hear that a block away.

Our place was a bar full of locals. People sat at long tables, smoking, talking, laughing. The air wasn’t too bad because they had a Dyson bladeless fan that kept the air moving, and the windows were open.

We sat off in a corner and two men came in and asked they could take the open places at our table. Of course, they could.

Lucky for us, neither of them smoked.

They had some English so we got into a conversation. They had been to the States, a trip to Colorado a couple of years ago. Taxes and real estate prices are high here. They live in flats in the same building. One of them is on a higher floor so he paid more for the view. The man with the view at one point told Joanna, “Wife home; I’m happy.”

The cafe is a short walk above the entrance to the Kapellbrucke. Paintings on the bridge are lit up at night and easier to see. But I still couldn’t understand the text.

Saturday we took one of the popular day trips, a cable car to the top of a nearby Alp called Pilatus and then the ride back down on the world’s steepest cog railway, the Pilatusbahn.

Pilatus is billed as Luzern’s own mountain. There are medieval legends, or maybe tales created by tourism promoters, that a dragon with healing powers lives at the top. The mountain is named for Pontius Pilate. According to other legends, he was buried at an ancient lake called Pilatus. 

I couldn’t find a Lake Pilatus on any maps. Maybe it has dried up.

We went to the Tourist Info office at the Bahnhof. The lady who waited on us was also the one who gave us directions to the Rothhaus when we first came to Luzern.

She sold us tickets for the trip up and down and also for the train ride back to Luzern. The bus ride to the cable car line in Kriens was free because the hotel gave us a transport pass for two, good for the week we’d be in town.

I’ve ridden cable cars before and know they are safe. But I still get a hollow feeling in my muscles from being suspended in air like that.

As the car climbed it would rumble from time to time as it crossed a support tower. We rode near the tops of some very old and tall evergreens. The ground was far below. 

Still, when we passed a small herd of cows, we could hear their bells. Or maybe the tourist service had a recording in the car for effect. I’m not sure.

We came to the end of the line and stepped out. Actually, it wasn’t very impressive. We were still below the tree line and there was a lot more mountain overhead.

Then I saw a sign for the Dragon Ride. It thought that was what we had just ridden. But no, that was just the gondola ride. There was yet another leg to travel, steeper with cars the size of small buses. 

The Dragon Ride took us the rest of the way into the clouds.

On the way up, it looked like the peak approaching, but it was a narrow crest. When we crossed it, the car rocked; the ground fell away in a sheer drop of hundreds of feet. What a weird feeling for someone who gets dizzy in high places.

There are very hardy souls indeed who use a couple of ski poles for extra support and actually walk to the top. And with backpacks.

You can see the trails worn into the mountain meadows. 

We waved to a few of them from the cable car.

We came to the realm of moss and wild mountain flowers. It’s enough to make you sing “Edelweiss,” although there was no edelweiss in sight.

One side of the peak was lost in fog and the other was clear. The sun even shone for a few minutes while we were on top.

There is a hotel or two up there, a visitor center, and the hillside where the base jumpers were setting up. 

They were going in pairs, apparently a professional and a tourist. Not this tourist, mind.

They spread out the parachute and harnessed the riders in place.

When the wind filled the chute, they rose and sailed forward. The lift must have been overwhelming, at least judging by the shout the first guy made.

Whoa! Off toward the opposite cliff, then a sharp bank to the left, followed by a long sweep down a hollow to float out of sight. From the gondola on the way up, we had seen a chute and people in a meadow far down the mountain.

Maybe that’s where this pair was going.

After all that excitement, we were ready for some bratwurst. Also a local beer called Eichhof Braugold. It could have been thirst, or the altitude, or whatever, but it was one of the best beers I have had in this country so far.

We wandered around a bit more before we took the railway down the mountain.

Known as the Pilatusbahn, it rides steel on steel, although I understand the wheels are not flanged like those on conventional railcars. Instead horizontal cogs under the car grip the sides of the tracks. 

Without those gear teeth, the train wouldn’t be able to climb up or keep its track on the way down.

The American Society of Mechanical Engineers, my former employer, named the Pilatusbahn a Mechanical Engineering Historical Landmark. The railway was built in 1882.

According to a plaque put up by ASME in 2001 “To keep the propulsion cogwheels from literally climbing out of their mating racks on the steepest portions of the Pilatusbahn, Zürich engineer Eduard Locher (1840-1910) devised a unique system that turned the rack on its side. The rack actually was doubled, engaged by opposing twin horizontal cogwheels.” 

We were able to see part of the mechanism involving the cogwheels as the cars began their trip back up the mountain.

Steel on steel doesn’t give a lot of traction. Conventional railroads can climb grades of 4 percent, if they have sufficient propulsion, sometimes several locomotives. A 4 percent grade would be a climb of 4 feet for every hundred feet forward.

The average grade of the Pilatusbahn is 38 percent, and for some sections it reaches 48 percent. That would be almost 1 meter up for every two meters forward at the steepest sections.

We were going down at a speed of about 7 kilometers an hour to assure that the car wouldn’t run away.

The train came down the clear side of Pilatus. The trip brought us more spectacular views of cliffs and sweeping mountainsides. Dominating the valley below us was Lake Luzern.

Back in Luzern, we stopped in the neighborhood of the Rothaus to read the menu at a restaurant. The name of the place was Taube, which may mean “pigeon” or “dove.” In any event, Joanna had to duck when one of the place’s namesakes swooped in for a landing and nearly knocked her hat off.

With an introduction like that, we had to go back there for dinner.

We sat outside, right on the edge of the river. The water was roaring through the needle dam. The pigeons and sparrows were underfoot looking for crumbs.

The local Eichhof beer was very good. The Dunkel and the Eichhof are among the best lagers I have tasted. I am not a lager fan, but both of them are very palatable.

Joanna had lamb stew. I’m not really familiar with it. I had it one St. Patrick’s Day at a bar in Seattle. This was a little different. The meat was leaner and the flavor may have been slightly sweeter.

My meat loaf and mashed potatoes were excellent.

Indeed, just about everything here has been excellent.

Be well, all. Joanna says look for insulators before you touch any fences.

Harry