Over the hills and far far away

Monday 7 September

OK guys - this day is out of synch - this is really the post for last Monday - the day that things went a little awry!

The day started beautifully and with much promise. We left Les Rhodos after a lovely breakfast. Its amazing the difference in breakfasts that we experience and while it was very continental, Pascal kept the coffee, warm milk, croissants and lovely bread coming. It amazes us how many people there are at breakfast as the hotel was very quiet overnight - no partygoers, no revellers. I guess most people are just happy to be in such lovely surroundings. As we had arrived in the early evening and had just a tad of trouble finding the hotel which was actually on a rural route out of the town, we had not had time to look around.

Waking this morning, the air is amazingly clear with a clarity that is hard to imagine. In the early morning light, the steeple of the church gleams and beckons us. After saying our goodbyes to Valerie and Pascal and leaving some little reminders of Australia, down into the village we go. The church is billed as baroque, but is not gilded and gaudy as some we have seen. Like most other things in this little alpine gem, it is a genuine place that reflects the life of its community.

Just beyond the church there is a little souvenir shop that has reasonable prices. Helen is looking for a new travel buddy as Laura the ladybird is not really photogenic. We find the perfect buddy - Pierre Le Jean Bear! And I find the cutest small MARMOT backpack - I'll never forget my first trip to Europe when I saw one in the wild and nearly drove myself and everyone else crazy cos I didn't know what to call it! I think that a little girl might get it before too long.

The mountains look stunning in the morning sun - the permanent snow (ice) high on the slopes of Mont Blanc glistens in the sun and the clear air allows the myriad of colours up here in the high alps to positively shine. The lady in the souvenir shop is very friendly and when Michael comes in and thanks her for her help in finding our accommodation last night her face lights up and she gives us a free local magazine. Us spending money probably helped as well!

The air up here is clear - really clear. There is a sharpness that seems to accentuate individually all the crisp clear scents, oh, and the mountain smell of cows - got to experience it to appreciate it (or not!) Sinus appears to be a dim memory for those of us who suffer it from time to time. We have watched the cloud nursery over the last 12 hours - those high mountains where little wisps of clouds begin, sometimes dissapate and sometimes coalesce to form small then larger and larger puffs of white cotton wool.

We leave Cordon and head down the valley to pass through Sallanches in the base of the valley where we turn and head towards the famous ski resort of Chamonix, Mont Blanc and the Simplon Pass en route to Italy. We are travelling the road that twists and turns through the valley that squeezes its way between the various ranges in the French Alps. And all the while, we have Mont Blanc towering over us on the right, a steady reassurance that we are continuing in the right direction - a bit unnecessary as there is one road, and only two directions, forwards or back! The scenery is breath-taking. We never tire of it and Helen when she puts the camera down for a little just constantly makes comments.

On the opposite side of the valley to Mont Blanc, the mountains are not quite so high and so at this time of the year, right at the end of summer, they are snow free. They are also of a very different composition. The are below the tree line and so there are a myriad of fir trees - about 6 or 7 different types that boldly cling to the sharp steep slopes. Where the slopes are too steep for trees, you get lots of earth slip, with loose rocks and dirt sliding down to the next small ledge and then sitting there in growing piles. Above this towers sheer rock faces that would no doubt send some of the extreme sports junkies into a frenzy of excitement.

All of a sudden we find ourselves caught in the traffic of Chamonix. Even in summer this town is a-buzz. High above us we see what has become a (frighteningly) familiar sign of the hang gliders silently riding the thermals, round and round and round. And around town we can see the trim, taut and muscle-calved bodies of the summer hikers that you see all around the high countries in Europe. We Aussies like to think that we live in the great outdoors - let me tell you, we don't. Oh sure, we spend out days sitting in the great outdoors, but here where the summer is short and intense, they spend every minute of the day making the most of the amazing opportunities at their disposal. They walk, well, hike or trek is probably a closer description, across the hills and valleys for hours and sometimes days on end. They hang glide, they climb, they mountain bike down the slopes. They really live in the outdoors. And then of course summer is over and they all head indoors for the next 9 months - hehe.

We had not planned to stop, but then again we had not planned anything specific anyway! Helen makes a comment about the cable car and it was then we realised that she had never been up a big mountain, so off the major road we pull, passed all the beautiful people, passed the boutiquey shops and up tight little streets to the cable car terminus. There were two options: we could get the cable car up the mountain, or two cable cars - the first up the mountain and then another across the valley and up to a higher peak.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," was Helen's response to her preference. And so up we go. She sat with her back to the slope, looking out across where we had been, and watching the valley floor falling away from her as we climb the slope, while I the chicken always look up. The Brévent cable car allows you not only to get to the starting point for walks and hang gliding, it affords the most incredible views across to Mont Blanc. The Mont Blanc range peaks at 4810 m, the Aiguille du Midi (3842 m), and then there are the fascinatingly stunning Chamonix needles to one side and the range Fiz Diosaz with the valley below. Some of the most interesting scenery you will ever see!

The day is sunny and high on the plateau and then the Brévent peak, it is intense and I suspect that you would get burned very quickly. After gazing in wonder at the top of the world all around us, Michael takes off to scale to the top observation deck on the plateau, while Helen and I are quite content to have a coffee. Its not long before Michael is down joining us. After about an hour and a half all up, we head back down to the car and set off again.

We left Chamonix and continued up and down the hairpin bends through the mountains. And we continue to pass the crazy crazy cyclists who seem to relish the conquering of these hills. God knows how some of them don't have heart attacks halfway up - I mean there are some seriously toned bodies pushing those pedals, but then again there are also some who look like rank amateurs who don't have the handle on the gears and need apply much more mind over matter to achieve their goal. In fact, some of them look quite unhealthy (read podgy here) and their tight lyrca suits could not hide the obvious - ugh.

The valley through the mountains continues to wend its way along their base. Some times we head up into the passes to cross one peak, only to be greeted by yet more over the top. Up and over the Col des Montets (a mountain pass high in France) and then the Col de la Forclaz back into Switzerland for a while. We see Martigny down in the valley and skirt around its outer edges. It looks very very familiar with its slopes of vineyards and Michael and I realise the that it is all too familiar and dredge back through the memory banks to remember that we had been through here before on the day we visited Evian from Manigod! As we leave Martigny we are hugging the right bank of the Rhône River. Kate, as requested, is delivering us along the back roads - gosh some of them are better described as back back roads!

When we get to Sion, Kate insists that we need to take a ferry. When I programmed her this morning she had told me there was a ferry. But her directions take us not to a lake or a river or anywhere else where we might catch a ferry. It does however, take us to the railway station where we could get a car train through the Simplon range! But, not expecting this, I haven't checked the timetables. Usually with a ferry, you just rock up and wait for the next one to leave. ! So I quickly re-proramme her and we resume our road route. We might have been able to catch a train, but we want to go OVER the mountains so we can see the views!

The Simplon Pass is a high mountain pass between the Pennine Alps and the Lepontine Alps and connects Switzerland and the Piedmonte region of northern Italy. Up and over we go through beautiful forested areas with streams far below us. We traverse half open tunnels that hug the side of the slopes and at one point, a waterfall cascades down over the tunnel providing for a vista through a watery veil - very very beautiful. And its not too long before we are at the top. As with may of these passes, the top provides an opportunity for entrepreneurs to set up restaurants, hostelleries and touristy outlets, and this one is no different!

We are hardly over the Pass when off to the right we see the top of a church, peeking from a valley below. It is really intriguing as there doesn't seem to be a community down there and so we pull over in a rest stop to take a better look. WOW - it is so tall! And off to one side is a long, much lower building that resembles maybe a monastery, maybe a barracks. But the very unusual thing is that these two buildings are out there, isolated, on their alonesome. Wow, this definitely calls for a closer look. I take the next road that leads off to the right and away we go. The buildings are much closer to the road than they looked. And whatever this building it, it is not a church. Its 8 stories high. There are no explanation signs so we have no idea what either of the buildings are. Michael takes heaps of photos though.

And then the day went belly-up.

As I started the car, there was this dreadful asthma-like hacking, coughing noise. The last time I had ever heard anything like it was years ago when my girlfriend, Carmen's car did a cylinder. Whatever it was, it wasn't good! I quickly drove down to the base of the hill where the barracks were and tooted the horn as Michael had disappeared somewhere around that imposing edifice. He re-appeared and I called him telling him there was a problem. A quick look under the bonnet and he (and therefore we) were none the wiser. All I knew was that we had to get somewhere and fast. Helen laughed (as she does when she is anxious). She told me later that my whole demeanour changed. There she was trying to calm me by telling me such things as "Its probably only a blocked fuel line or dirty fuel". But I would not be convinced. This car has been the extension of my arms, legs and breath for the past eight months and I had a horrible feeling coursing through my very being. Yeah, yeah drama queen - but it does make for interesting reading.

So we crept up from the valley and back on to the highway through the base of the Pass. Its all down hill from here - through a stunning gorge (not that I am taking too much attention) and very downhill! It was about now that the engine warning light came on - intermittently and then persistently. I coast into a Shell service station at Gondo just before the Italian border. The lights were all one, but the only fellow there spoke only Italian and Michael could not make himself understood. So we continue to limp forward. We have to pass through a tunnel that was 2.5 kms long - "One of the longest tunnels in the world", thought Helen "when the engine light is on!" before emerging to pass through the Italian border, manned by one of the gruffest men we have yet to meet. By this point, we are seeing lots of signs for the town of Domodossola and so following my instinct that this might be a larger town, we head for there.

Turns out that we could not have come to rest in a more appropriate location. As we come off the highway we see a sign for a mechanic and Michael goes for help. He brings two non-Italian looking Italians back to the car. They don't understand us until Helen points to the engine warning light in the manual and he laughingly says one word "Caput" and toached the engine. The then mutters Opel (European equivalent of Vauxhall) and points across the road saying what we interpret to be they are closing as he points to his watch.

Michaels now off at a frantic sprint. He comes back a little later to say that the mechanics have gone, one of the office girls speaks some English and we can leave the car there (before 7 pm when the sales staff finish and its now 6:30 pm). And as I said, the perfect location - the Opel dealer is 100 m up the road in one direction and in the other is the Hotel Internazionale. So he heads there - yes they have a vacancy, with wifi connection and he has booked us in. We quickly unload the car at the hotel and he takes it over to Opel.

My god, what an exhausting afternoon.
We head down for dinner as soon as the Restaurant is open at 7:30 pm. Plaza de Toros might not be silver service, but the food is wholesome and tasty given our frantic hunger. We have a strange mix, pasta for starters - Helens with Salmon, mine was gnocchi with tomato and Michael had Penne Arribiata. The waitress then collected the plates and gave us dessert menus, obviously not realising that we had ordered a 'main' meal. Helen and I both had Veal with Limone and Michael had Torneades - all served with chips, no veges or salad! Desserts then followed - Helen and I shared a Creme Catalan and Michael had lemon sorbet.

Up to the room and to very uncomfortable beds - well, Michaels and mine was while Helens obviously gets less use and wasn't too bad she reported. Who cares. We are in civilisation. We are safe. More news on the car tomorrow.

High in the hills sat a lonely goatherd

Sunday 6 September

Its Sunday morning and we (Helen and I) had toyed with the idea of Mass in French. But the morning got the better of us and one last meal (breakfast) in the square won out. We leave the hotel early - like 9 am - and walk around to the Place des Ducs. The sun is bright and the marble and sandstone of the Plaza are positively gleaming. So much so that there is no way we can sit outside! We find only a few of the cafes open this early on a Sunday morning and head for the Brasserie des Ducs on the far side of the plaza.

Sitting inside, but still within the reach of the warming sun, we order brekky - I'm not really hungry and just have a coffee and croissant but the Helen and Michael opt for omlettes that look and smell wonderful. The tables here are stunning - all different representations of the medieval period during which this town obviously flourished. One last walk past the Palais before we head back to the Hôtel des Ducs to finish packing and hit the road.

We realise that there was only such a small part of the town that we saw. But that is the lot of the short-stay tourist - you see a little but miss so much. Can't dwell on that or we could be caught in some sort of a tourist time-warp in many of the places we see. I know so many people thought that a year in Europe was the ultimate, but believe me, a lifetime in Europe would never be enough to really see this continent well!

We say a final goodbye to the reception staff in the hotel - Latifa and her counterparts have been wonderful ambassadors not only for the hotel, but for the City. They are vibrant, confident, beautiful young women who were a joy to know - even if for such a short time! Thank you ladies.

As we are leaving Dijon, we pass beautiful gardens, the remains of the City Gates and part of the City Wall, realising that although we have spent one and a half days wandering through the old town, that there was so much more to see. As I said, one of the downfalls of staying in really interesting old towns that are jam packed with history and interesting communities! And we can never stay long enough to see all of it - what bummer in a way!

Soon we are again out in the French countryside and there are times when we compare it to the back of Gympie, the Lockyer Valley and sometimes even the Atherton Tablelands. And yet it is different too. The sky is big - lots of open space. Many of the fields lie fallow at the moment, having recently been harvested. The last of the sunflowers are hanging their tired heads on drooping necks, too old now to be bothered with following the sun god they so worship.

One big difference though are the avenues of trees that are planted along the edge of the highways - particularly coming in to and out of the towns. They create the coolest, shadiest tunnels of dappled light that immediately drop the temperature by a couple of degrees. Now, you all know how much Helen is in to light and shadows, so you can just imagine the oohing and aahing and trying to capture every one on camera. She used to laugh when I told her the number of photos that we were taking in a day - well, today she wins with 731!

And then there are the little towns like Ville d'Auxonne here, with their ties back to history like this portal gate that, once part of walls helped to fortify the town and keep it safe from the maraurders that crossed the continent in search of conquests. We see aquaducts, and lots of public art in the form of sculptured gardens on roundabouts.

When we were planning the route I asked Helen if she preferred to go via the French Riviera which she had previously mentioned) or the Alps. She ummed and aghed a bit, but finally decided that as she had never seen really high mountains or snow, and so the vote went to the Alps. We had previously stayed in the French Alps and know now that it is more affordable than Switzerland, so we searched for somewhere in the French Alps. To get there, we will go through Switzerland, down along Lake Geneva before turning back in to France.

We are headed for a small town called Cordon. We had previously spent a wonderful week a little further to the west from there, but as we are ultimately headed south east to Italy, we have booked a room in a winter ski chalet for a night that attracts lots of summer walkers.

Travelling along the winding highway we chance our first glimpse of Lake Geneva. However, as we negotiate the steep inline we pass, on either side of us, Herculian cyclists straining at their cranks to provide the necessary energy to reach their lofty destinations!
Hang about...?

We're being passed by bikers, (..again on either side,) hunched over their screaming steeds hurtling towards their destinations. Are we seeing things - Dolpengangers, maybe? We sharing the road with the same bikers...oh, shades of Mt Glorious! 'Here he comes again', or 'There he goes again'. These blokes mustn't have anything better to do than shatter the peace and quiet we have attained after stopping at our viewpoint - and what a view!

Lake Geneva is glistening like a lapis lazuli jewel, it is indeed a breath taking sight. We're in awe, although, there is a faint haze it only adds to the lakes beauty....and here goes another biker. As they round the bends, we hold our breaths wondering whether we'll be witnesses to a tragedy. Anyhow, back to our reverie - from our vantage point, the surrounding mountain ranges appear like mantles, surrounding the lake and its environment like a watchful sentinel and today's glorious warmth is certainly reflected in the vision before us.

Though transfixed, we still have our own destination to reach. Returning to our car we make our way along the highway, and as we reach its lower slopes we notice on our right a group of bikers. These lads are obviously the same riders we had seen screaming up and down the highways incline. They stand in a group around their steeds appearing to be in deep discussions over their conquest of the mountain. If their is one saving grace with these riders, is at least their leathers are dense unlike the sheerness of their cycling bretheren?

We reach Switzerland, passing through the former border control with the bored look of experienced travellers - oh, that is all but Helen! This is the first land 'border' she has crossed since joining us in France. We travel through Geneva, along the shores of the lake, negotiating the Sunday afternoon traffic - it seems that almost everyone is out on the roads, ready to see and be seen.

The quite quickly, we are again crossing back in to France and climbing back into the maountains. We finally arrive at Cordon (the Balcony of Mont Blanc) and a quaint village indeed it is - but where in the hell is the hotel. All the residential dwellings and hotels appear in to built in the same 'Alpine' design. Kate leads us the way which is barred by the ubiquitous barricades...groan....another detour. The detour is a result of a 'Bread Festival'...yes, you read correctly...a bread festival. What a sight as there are folk dressed in traditional Lederhosen combined with 'Oompa-pah' music. We see a horse-drawn wagon gaily decorated with revellers calling out jibes of good cheer.

Kate has tizzy fit in an attempt to redirect our route, however, we are almost going in circles - not quite, but almost. We decide to draw upon local knowledge, so Michael ventures forth with the trusty phrase book to seek help. He returns frustrated, he will need to search further to find someone who can speak some English. Success, Michael finds a tavern whereby after some gesticulating, smiles and phrases he obtains the necessary directions to 'Les Rhodos', our accommodation for tonight.

The hotel is perched high up a slope which provides a gob-smacking view. If anything, today has been a day of vistas! Our room is located on the first floor with a panoramic window, allowing us to absorb the view before us! Words at this point are just superfluous....

Settled into our room - which combines a rather unusual arrangement for ablutions? The bathroom at one side of the room and the WC on the other - next to one of the beds. (A description of sound effects is not provided....)

Before we make a move towards having dinner, we just watch the light change across the alps as the afternoon slowly descends into twilight. The only accompanying sound is the dangs and dongs of the distant cow bells. And we wonder about that lonely goatherd, or cow shepherd!

Dinner...hmm...just what Herr Doktor ordered:
Starters:
Club Sandwich au saumon fumé et sorbet tomate basilic (Club Sandwich with smoked salmon and tomato basil sorbet) Helen
Ravioles du Dauphiné au Beaufort (Ravioli Dauphine in Beaufort cheese) Michael and Maria
Mains:
Fondue Savoyarde - servie avec assiette de charcuteries et salade verte (Cheese fondue - served with sausage and salad) Maria and Helen
Souris de a'gneau confite au miel de citron et épices (Lamb shank with honey, lemon and spices) Michael
Dessert:
Creme Catalan (Rich creme brulee) Helen and Maria
Profiteroles au chocolat au beurre (Profiterole with chocolate butter) Michael

Once dinner was done, we got talking with Chef owner Pascal who runs this busy little hotel with his wife Valerie and their adorable little boy Titoeun (sorry guys if I have the spelling wrong - let me know and I will correct it!). He explains that he studied for 6 years to get qualified as a cook and then worked in various restaurants for another 5 years before coming to Cordon. It has paid off - his food is fabulous!

Eventually we head back up to our room and admire the moon rising behind Mont Blanc - my god what a majestic sight. It is at times like this that you sit, in awe of the beauty of the nature around us.

The Iceman Commeth...?

It was nice to have a good night's sleep at the Grindelwald Youth Hostel - it is definitely worth paying the extra to have a room to ourselves and our own bathroom (my days of sharing are definitley over!!) This morning was dull and dank. It had rained quite a bit during the night and while the rain had stopped, there was an incredible heaviness to the low clouds that hung in the valley. We were up at sparrow fart (6 am) as we knew we needed to be in for breakfast early to beat the crowds. Breakfast is served from 7:15 am and we had tickets for the 8:25 am train from Gründ, a few kilometres down the road.

After last night's introduction to a Youth Hostel 'dixie-bashing' dinner, then breakfast was an equally illuminating experience as well. However, as with last night's fare - there was plenty of including muesli (but not Alpen) that tasted like cardboard, bread, butter, jams or nutella (the backpackers staple!) ‘ham’ and cheese, yoghurt and a mix of tinned and fresh fruit; all of which was wholesome and the coffee was FREE (whereas last night it cost CHF3 per cup!) and is probably the most popular item! A Canadian asked if they had a toaster and was told no, sorry.

So that over, off we head. There is still plenty of parking right near the station at this hour of the day, and it is so much cheaper (6 CHF for the day) than in Grindelwald town as well. There are a few other people waiting for the train and when it pulls in, we discover that almost ¾ of the train has been reserved for groups. Still, we get seats without a problem – very cramped though – must be the Swiss way to encourage people to get to know one another – you have to rub knees with the person opposite you! Heaven help the winter skiers with all the extra clothing on – must be extra squeezy!

The Swiss certainly know how to construct a railway system, and the Jungfraubahnen (a UNESCO World Heritage listing) is just amazing. Construction commenced in 1890 and throughout the years, and gradual upgrades has not altered the railway as being the oldest 'rack-and-pinion' rail system still in operation. To ride this conveyence is an experience in itself. Anyhow, we board the train at 8:20 for the 8:25 Jungfraubahnen to the destined snowdomia, in the interim a special 'reserved' two car set arrives at the station bulging with Japanese tourists. Well, this contingent either spent the night at the summit or had an exceptionally early start.

The first leg of our trip is overland in a 2 carriage yellow train. As soon as we leave the station the climb begins and it is not long before we are traversing grades of between 30° and 45°! I kid you not!! The train has a regular wheel system to which has been fitted a pinion or cog mechanism that turns in a rack for extra purchase and passenger peace of mind!

It takes 25 minutes to travel up out of the valley floor to the change point at Kleine Scheidegg. All the while we watch (through the clouds as they part, then clear a little) as the township of Grindelwald shrinks to even less than dolls house size. And looking heavenwards, we marvel with awe at the alps' manufacturing clouds - truly, these mountains are 'cloud nurseries'.

The grass is green up in the pastures and although the majority of the spring melt is well and truly over, there are still plenty of small rivulets and waterfalls streaming water down the hills into the valleys. This, together with the obvious hooven animal tracks wreak havoc on this fragile environment and there are many spots where you can see erosion - and in some parts quite bad erosion devastating this landform. Still enough of that.

As we climb higher the clouds stay with us. When we get as far as Alpiglen when you can usually get your first glimps of that famous north face of the Eiger Mountain, all we see is cloud with just a little part of the lower wall visible. Still, as we get higher we will be up above the clouds and our views will improve! We reach Kleine Scheidegg and change for the train up to Jungfraujoch. This is the junction for the line we are on, and another from Lauterbrunnen, so there are more people around. There is the same St Bernard Dog with his barrel of rum around his neck that was here when we were here three years ago. And he does not look like he has had a wash in that time either! Still, the Japanese tourists love him and there are lots of them crowded around having a group photo! The handler looked positively bored!!

So from Kleine Scheidegg we board another 2 carriage train for the ascent through the mountains to the peaks. We travel up through a series of galleries (half tunnels) that are cut into the side of the slope before entering into the bowels of the mountains - a tunnel that travels through the Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau Mountains. There are two scenic observation windows that have been cut into the mountain face - the first at Eigerwand on the face of the Eiger Mountain (looks out to the north west) and the second at Eismeer on the eastern face of the Eiger. Today, both are fully immersed in dense cloud and all we can see from either station is a glaring, blinding white! However, the five minute stop gives Michael the chance to check out the train (as he would!!).

And then we are there. We have reached the summit and are now at 11,333 feet above sea level. The actual summit of the Jungfrau Mountain is still a further 2,309 feet above us, but this is as far as we can get by train. The carriages disgorge their contents and there is a rush to be at the head of the pack - gosh, don't know why - there really is plenty of space for everyone! We make our way into the tunnels that carry millions of tourists each year to a number of viewing and activity areas. We decide to head down the quieter tunnel and will first go to have a look at the Ice Palace. I did not go into this icy, slick cavern when we came up last time as I was worried about slipping and hurting my leg BUT this time I have come prepared - I have my walking sticks with me! So into the ice we go. Gosh, it is cold here - and slippery. But it is amazing to see the ice up so close. The ice 'faces' have gone though Mum and Donna, replaced by a little ledge that we squeeze through a small tunnel to lean on - same effect though - you can be photographed looking out from the ice ledge. Many of the scupltures down here are the same ones that we here three years ago - and looking just as pristine.

From here we go out on the Plateau where we are still cloud bound and the snow is starting to fall. We are here with a million Japanese, some of whom are so inadequately clad so as to have peddle pushers and thongs on - NO KIDDING! I mean it is 0.8° and with a wind chill that is taking is well south of that. You would think that as Japan has high mountains as well, that they would be better prepared - but I guess if you are a Tokyo girl, maybe not! All I can say is that even warmly dressed, I was not hot and with my boots on and poles firmly in hand, the going was still pretty slippery - especially around the entrance areas where traffic is very high, the snow melts and then freezes over. Still can't believe that anyone would be so stupid as to come up in bare feet with thongs! (And while I am having a gripe, why oh why don't I have a program that will make me looker slimmer!)

So, the first mountain top snow experience out of the way, we head up to the Sphinx where we make our first stop at the restaurant. It is early for lunch (11:45 am), but I can't stomach the thought of being there with the crowds that are up here today. In memory of Mum, I have a schnitzel and pommes frites (french fries) and we get one of the meat and cheese plates to share. Michael however can't come at Spag Bol (for my brother Michael) and instead has a huge Bratwurst Sausage (that didn't need flushing until much, much later!) with pommes frites. We get a window seat and watch the clouds forming patterns on the glacier and snow below us. We don't get to see much blue sky yet, and there are times of total whiteout with a combination of snow and cloud obscuring everything!

Still, at times like these, there is still plenty to look at inside, like the middle aged Japanese woman in heeled court shoes, or the Indian lady in high wedged thongs, or the brash, loud American girl in open sandals and shorts!

As we get ready to leave, the hordes are arriving for lunch (yes, ours was a wise decision) including the groups. We start to see the lots of Indians that I remember from last time as well. We leave and go up to the Sphinx Observation Tower. Up a lift that travels the 108 m at a stomach grabbing 3m/second! We walk out into blinding brillance - the clouds still have not fully lifted and the glare is magnified by the huge plate glass windows. A walk around to the stairwell entrance and some other tourists happily oblige by taking a photo of us together under the sign - no cutting and pasting me into the shot this time!!

They have the whole foyer area out on to the observation deck heated - so much so that we can't wait to get out into the cool! Part of the walkway around the edge of the deck is closed due to falling icicles and snow - no need this time for the men with the chainsaws and shovel sleds to be clearing the snow - but we are a month later than when I was last here in 2006. The clouds are now beginning to break, burned away by the midday sun in the cool, high mountain air. And yet, as we continue to gaze with wonder at the amazing scenery all around us, still the snow falls. Michael enjoys trying to catch some on his tongue! We watch a flock of birds landing and casting off the rock ledge below us. It's amazing these little creatures don't suffer from frostbite; as they leave their claw impressions in the small ice rifts. They land on the ledge and despite teh multitude of signs in a myriad of languages about not feeding the birds, plenty do - predominantly the Indians. They are so tame that I am even lucky enough to get a series of photos of one of them preening - standing less than a foot away from it!

We walk around the observation deck snapping away. While it is snowing, it is not heavy and at the moment there is amazingly little wind, so it is not too cold at all. And the clouds play hide and seek with our views! From time to time we can see the people on the snow below us, while at other times the are obscured by that whiteout. Michael however is champing at the bit to get down there. There are a huge array of activities on offer - from skiing and snowboarding, to dish skimming (their version of cardboard sliding!) to husky rides, to a thrill-seekers flying fox line) to walking either independently or with a guided group to the head of the glacier or beyond. So down stairs we go. But my hip is really starting to ache now - a combination of some more strenous walking and the cold I think, so I will stay and have a look at the art exhibition currently showing while Michael takes a walk.

So off he heads - Glacier Head bound. He is in for quite a treat. Not only does he get to look down on the glacier from near its head, he also manages to capture a series of small avalanches falling (though I am not sure how clear the photo will be once it is reduced for the blog) and finally the sun shines through - giving him a true impression of just how blue and clear the sky can be up here in the heavens. But looking back on the impressive Sphinx Meteorological Station, he can only get a shot of it with a heavy grey background - unlike that amazing photo that I got with the clear summer sky behind it last time. And he should have out more sunblock on - but didn't, so now his face glows, even though we was wearing his hat, the reflected gare off the snow has given him quite a bit of a burning. No doubt it will be brown by morning!

So, a full day almost done, we are ready to head off mountain and back to the valley floor. The train trip down is slightly amusing as most of the people aboard just go to sleep. In their defence, I will admit that the heating was on and it is somewhat stifling. One of the Japanese tour group guides is also amused and busily takes photos of her sleeping charges - no doubt to embarrass them with later! Michael also gets a good shot. It is amazing how many people don't look good with their mouths open, and also amazing at just how many people do sleep with their mouths open when they are sitting up!
We again marvel at the changing scenery on the trip back down and as we near Kleine Scheidegg see a couple of walkers trudging across the landscape. When we actually get to the station, they are already there and I ask them how fay they have walked.
"Oh just from Schiltorn today"
"How long did it take you?"
"Not too long - 6 hours"
Not too long? Not too far? Who are they kidding???? There is a perfectly good train that they could have got from Lauterbrunnen and not have even needed to go up to Schiltorn - still, whatever rocks your boat!!!

At Kleine Scheidegg we decided to get cups of coffee and cake for afternoon tea. The Apfelkuchen looked wonderful, so that will do us. When it is delivered to our table, I can hardly believe my eyes! The slices are H U G E. And the German fellow at the table behind us just laughs and laughs and laughs. When they order the same, I notice that they only order one between two! Too bad they did not order first! I mean that cake was delicious - light cake base covered with heaps of grated apple mixed (I think) with some of the cake mix to hold it together and then a crumble like top. Actually, it was very light. And wholesome food insists Michael, no junk, as her polished off his piece and almost ⅔of mine as well! Yeah, right, whatever makes you feel good darling!!!!

Then it is back on to the yellow train for the valley and Grindelwald. Back through the galleries and with a bit better a view of the Eiger north face as we journey through. The clouds have still not lifted. The trip down in uneventful and I get chatting to some other travellers who have also come over from France. But they are not staying up mountain and have to travel back down to Interlaken when we get down. We make comparisons re the differences we see in the Swiss and French Alps. With the exception of the Mont Blanc range, the Swiss Alps are 'high mountains' compared to most of the French Alps. Mind you, they are all connected and what in fact we experienced in Manigod was the lower slopes on the other side of these Alps. Michael however, is taking more photos at the carriage door, so his hat has a seat all to itself. Comes in handy, does his Akubra - most people pick us for Australians straight away - although the questions about the corks are starting to wear a little thin!

And so back on the valley floor we arrive about 6 pm, tired but thrilled with our day up in the big mountains. As I had expected, Michael was really stunned by the experience and I suspect I'll never again hear the words, "Alps, not more b***** alps!" And diner tonight? Who the hell needs dinner after that Apfelkuchen! We are happy not to have anything. We have a nap, and then while Michael heads up to the main building, I begin the blog, downloading and resizing the photos and then watch 'Twilight' a movie that Michael really wanted to see that I have downloaded through iTunes. Good plot, pretty good movie. Bit too girly though for Michael I suspect. So now I am off to bed.