In Which We Begin Our Swiss Skiing Adventure

As I begin this first blog about our skiing experiences in Switzerland I should explain a few things about my life as a skier.  As a child I skied a few times with my family (I’d better leave discussion of my father’s teaching philosophy for another day), but I took up the sport seriously only about ten years ago.  About five years before that, The Spouse and I had agreed that we should introduce our then-nine-year-old son to skiing.  We all rented skis and took beginner’s lessons at a small area in the Poconos.  The Spouse and Handsome Son both fell immediately in love with the sport, while I had trouble with just about everything it involved.  So, for some time I cross-country skied in the valleys while the guys did their thing on the mountains.

Family at Steamboat in 2004

Eventually I tired of being left behind and decided to try again.  This time I took everything at my own pace, riding the littlest lift over and over and staying on the baby slope until I gradually lost my fear of heights and began to enjoy the fluid motion of skiing.  I fell in love with the sport, the exhilaration of being outside (well insulated) on the coldest days, the views that grew ever more breathtaking as I moved up to higher slopes.  Our winter ski vacations became the highlight of the family calendar as we explored areas in the northeast, Canada and the Rockies.  The opportunity to experience skiing in Switzerland and Europe was a major reason for our readiness to undertake this move to Switzerland.

That said, our introduction to Swiss skiing has not been as smooth as one might expect.  To understand precisely why, we have to return to that perennial focus of these blogs, the awesome structure of the Alps.  You will recall our discussion of the Lauterbrunen valley, with its steep rock walls carved by glaciers.

Since that first visit we have learned that Lauterbrunen is only an extreme version of common geological features of the Alps – steep, closely packed peaks separated by deep glacial valleys.  In America the really big mountains stand far apart, with much broader, more gradual valleys between them.  Hence, American ski resorts are built around one or two mountains, with beginner and easy runs at the base and the most difficult located at the heights.  For example, look at this map of Steamboat, one of our favorite ski areas in northern Colorado.

This arrangement enabled me to start off each season by recapitulating the process through which I learned to ski – beginning on the easiest (green) slopes and gradually working my way through the intermediate (blues) and by mid-season one or two of the easier expert (black) slopes.  Except that here in Switzerland there are few if any beginner slopes.  (Plus they confuse everything and change the color scheme: here the “easier” slopes are blue, intermediate are red and expert are black or yellow.)  I guess we can blame the glaciers for carving away the lower areas where easy slopes might have resided.

So the first thing that one does when skiing in Switzerland is clamber onto a tram or cablecar of some sort to get up that first thousand meters or so. 

Slope above Mürren in October

Then one reaches relatively level ground stretching gradually upward toward the peaks.  There one finds a number of trails, or pistes, that claim to be “easier.”  But trust me, they are nothing like the green runs back home.

In December we began by skiing at two smaller areas nearby.  Forced to start the season on slopes that were much closer to advanced intermediate than beginner, I found it difficult to get my technique back in shape.  In addition, the heights, while breathtakingly scenic, triggered my vertigo.  Looking down a slope that seemed to drop off into open space, my brain went into panic mode and I could barely navigate some of the easier runs.  And then there was the fog….

But there were always compensations.  On our first outing to Andermatt, a smallish resort exactly an hour away, we fell in love with the charming little town nestled in the valley.  We returned later to spend two days, staying overnight at the Hotel Zur Sonne, on the first night that it reopened for the winter season.  (Unfortunately, extremely cold temperatures knocked out my camera’s battery, so I wasn’t able to take photos, but here’s a picture snagged from the hotel’s website.)  After an arduous day of skiing we were delighted to spend a long après ski period in the restaurant, drinking beer and watching snow falling softly outside.  We stayed on for a hearty dinner in the cozy wood-paneled dining room.

Terrace at Davos

Moreover, the Swiss have this wonderful custom of setting cafes and restaurants not only at central points, but at the end of long runs and inevitably at scenic points where one can take in the stunning views all around.  (When I am skiing, I don’t have time to really appreciate the beauty, which offers a handy excuse to stop from time to time during a run.)  They invariably also have large terraces where one can sit out on clear days and soak up the sun – sunbathing seems to be as important a reason for getting up to the mountaintops for many Swiss as is the skiing itself. 

I have to admit feeling a bit nervous as we set out on our first extended ski trip last weekend, to the world-famous resort of Davos.  Yes, the Davos of the World Economic Forum, located in the Canton of Graubünden where the mountains are reputed to be even steeper than in the rest of Switzerland.  The weather had turned warm in early January, doing some damage to snow conditions generally, and Davos is located at a higher altitude than most other resorts.  It is a huge resort, with 311 kilometers of pistes located on five mountains on both sides of a deep valley.   So we reserved a hotel for three nights, and hoped for the best.

The first pleasant surprise was realizing that Davos is located only two hours away by car.  We could leave after work on Friday evening and arrive early enough to get a good night’s sleep before our first day of skiing.  The next was finding upon our arrival that Davos was much more down-to-earth than we had expected.  Our hotel was located in Davos Platz, several blocks from the aerial tram to Jacobshorn area where we would spend our first day.

By now used to the routine of skiing in Switzerland, we put on our gear at the hotel and clomped to the tram station.  Crowded into the tram along with forty or fifty others, we felt it rising steeply against the face of the lower mountain.  It also brought us out of the shadow of the valley into the sunshine of a cloudless blue-sky day.  We transferred to a second tram that took us to the top of Jakobshorn, 2590 meters high.   I was a bit apprehensive to see that the first run began with a so-called “cat track” down a narrow ledge, because ledges with steep drops set off my vertigo alarms.  But we made it down without trouble and found ourselves at the top of a wide open mountain meadow.  Running through it were a number of well-groomed blue and red pistes, but almost all of the area was open for skiing by those who liked to venture into deep powder.  These vast meadows are the signature features of Alpine skiing.  Unlike American resorts, which are mostly below treeline and where ski runs are carved out of the forests, Swiss areas are wide open with few trees and lots and lots of powder. (Check out the interactive map at http://www.davos.ch/en/winter/region/town-map.html.)

But for me the wonderful discovery was that I could handle these pistes.  There were plenty of steep parts, but not so much that I couldn’t focus on my technique and get back into shape.  I was elated.  We were both delighted to find that conditions were fine despite the lack of new snow.  And so we proceeded to explore the slopes, stopping for coffee and lunch breaks at several charming restaurants with amazing views. 

Days two and three we spent at the Parsenn area on the opposite side of the valley.  This was reached via a cable-driven funicular car that began at Davos Dorf and climbed in two stages to Weissfluhjoch at 2662 meters.  This is the largest and one of the most popular sections at Davos, and rightly so because it offers a wide range of types and difficulty of skiing.   

Beginning of run down to Parsennhütte

The most popular run is a long rolling blue “cruiser” from the top down to Parsenhütte with sweeping mountain views in several directions.  I commented to The Spouse at the end of our first run on it that the piste itself has more acreage and different degrees of steepness than the entire ski area we frequented in the Poconos.  Such abundance!  I think I should just insert here some photos of this run.

Your Faithful Blogger further down on the run

View of run from aerial tram

End of the Run

And Parsennhütte waits at the end

Each day we began together, trzing out new runs, and then after breaking for coffee we'd separate – me to continue on the blues for which I’d developed a fondness and TS to seek out more difficult terrain to try out his new Swiss-made Stöckli powder skis.  It was on one of his trips to the top of Weissfluhgipfel, 2844 meters, that he took a series of photographs demonstrating that it was mountain peaks all around!

And then it was time to descend from the mountaintop and return home.  But we will be back.  Next time I will relate why Davos is called the Magic Mountain.

In Which We Go Back to the Mountaintop to See the Sun

There is something I have to acknowledge: I haven't been completely open with you about the weather.  I have posted some pretty amazing photographs, if I do say so myself.  But I haven't pointed out the fact that those stunning views are often obscured by clouds and fog, especially at this time of year.

Rigi Hidden in Cloud

The flip side of living among beautiful mountains and lakes is that the combination often produces fog.  Fog that can stick around for days and days, until you begin to feel that you will never see the sun again.

There were a few days of sunshine about the time Middle Sister arrived before Christmas and just after Christmas we had a stunning blue-sky, snow-on-every-surface day.  But then the sky lowered and we didn't see the sun again for days. 


So I decided we would do what the Swiss do -- get up above the clouds.  MS and I drove to Vitznau, a village on the Vierwaldstättersee, also known as Lake Luzern, and embarked on the Rigibahn, one of several mountain trains that ascend to the top of Rigi.  

The most accessible of the Swiss mountain peaks, Rigi became popular with travellers in the early 19th century, when it was given the title "Queen of the Mountains."  An inn was built at its summit in 1816.  Until the 1870s one reached it either by hiking or atop a sedan chair; then Europe's first rack railway was constructed.  We followed the same route, along with three cars-full of Swiss and foreign visitors taking an early break on New Year's Eve day.

The train began climbing steeply right out of the station.  After about ten minutes, we slowly emerged from the fog.

Strangely, there were not one but two fog banks, one atop the other, with a narrow band of open air between.

After about half an hour we finally emerged from the upper fog bank....

And, feeling that we had crossed some magical threshold, we entered an entirely different world from the one below.

We all tumbled out of the train, nearly blinded by the brilliant sunshine.  Assuming that it would be extra cold at that altitude, we had worn many layers.  But as we strolled along at the top of the world we first unbuttoned and then took off as much as we could afford to carry, luxuriating in the surprising warmth.



Characteristically, the Swiss were enjoying the day in every way possible.  Some had come prepared with snow shoes or winter hiking boots and poles.  (I kicked myself that I had forgotten to bring ours, which would have made it much easier to navigate the sometimes slippery paths.)

Many brought wooden sleds, or sledges, for traversing specially marked trails, or simply being pulled about.

Others simply sat and soaked up the sun.

We walked up a steep slope to the very top and gazed down at what should have been a view of the Zugersee and my home.  But everything below was hidden by a bed of fluffy clouds.

There are many other Alps higher than Rigi.  What makes her still a popular destination is the fact that from her top one can take in the full sweep of the Alps, from Austria in the east to France in the west.  It was even more astounding to realize that because of the fog we were seeing only the tips of the peaks!

Eventually we came out of the blinding sun and lunched in the Rigi Kulm hotel, descendent of the first early-19th century inn.  And reluctantly we boarded the bahn to take us back into the world of mists and shadows.





But it is comforting to know that there is another world awaiting me up there, that can be reached merely at the cost of a Rigibahn fare!

In Which We Experience Our First Swiss Christmas

Now that our first holiday season in Switzerland is past, I finally have time to share some of the highlights.  Our generally quiet life here was enlivened by the arrival of my sister a week before Christmas and she stayed until January 2.  (There are three of us and though I'm sure you'd never guess it I am the oldest.  Visiting sister is the second in line, so I guess I will call her Middle Sister.)

The week before Christmas was largely occupied in introducing Middle Sister to Switzerland.  For the first time in my life, I had little gift shopping to do because we had gotten everything for our families before returning to the U.S. for Thanksgiving.  Moreover, The Spouse and I agreed to give each other ski equipment, not terribly romantic but essential at this point in our snow careers.  But MS had some gifts yet to purchase and so we headed to Zurich and Basel to look around.

Zurich's most famous shopping district is Bahnhofstrasse, a wide nineteenth-century boulevard stretching from the main train station to the Zurichsee, lined with super-high-end stores that compel window gazing even by non-shoppers like myself, if only to gawk at the price tags.  At this season the lights and Christmas decorations are a big draw.

Most cities and towns in Switzerland have their Weinachtsmarkt or Christmas Market.  (Baar's unfortunately, was a one-day affair that came and went while we were away for Thanksgiving.)  They seem to differ only in size, for each is composed up of a cluster of wooden booths or huts decorated with pine boughs or something equally Christmassy, and offering a standard array of crafts and wares appropriate for gift-giving, plus seasonal food and drink -- especially Glühwein (mulled wine) and hot chocolate, a variety of wursts and inevitably raclette.  This last is a quintessentially Swiss dish whose popularity is a mystery to me: raclette is a mild soft cheese that is unexceptionable except when it is heated to near burning, when it gives off a noxious smell.  The Swiss love to place it under a heating element until it begins to smoke, then scrape the semi-liquid top layer of cheese onto slices of cooked potatoes, tiny onions or pickles.  In this season it is popular to give little parties where everyone gathers around a table grill and melts the cheese in little metal scoops.  I guess it's one of those things that you just have to grow up into.

At any rate, the Zurich Weinachtsmarkt was held inside a cavernous hall attached to the main train station, so that the air was heavy with the mingled aroma of Glühwein and smoking raclette.  Hence, we didn't stay long, but we did enjoy the central attraction, a huge Christmas tree decorated with thousands of glittering Swarovski crystal ornaments.

We hastened back into the city to a catch an intriguing event that we'd seen advertised earlier in the day, billed as a "singing Christmas tree."  We secured seats in front of a large tiered stage decked with pine boughs and lights.  Soon a crowd of parents gathered and the tree began to fill with excited schoolchildren (and a few teachers) wearing identical red caps and scarves and green cloaks.  Perched atop the stand, this "singing tree" enthusiastically regaled us with a half-hour concert.  Most of the songs were in German and weren't familiar carols, but two were in English, showing that the Swiss begin English instruction early.  Here is one of them:

When we got home I posted the other English song on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FAUDgSq_YI

The next day we ventured farther afield, to Basel, which I had been told had an excellent Christmas Market.  And it was, although similarly redolent of smoking raclette.  MS purchased some beautifully carved ornaments and I fell in love with a charming black felt hat at the most wonderful haberdashery stand.  We returned to the market at the end of the day to find large crowds of locals gathered at the hot drinks stand.  Evidently the market is the place to be during the holiday season.  We had delicious hot chocolates in ceramic mugs specially marked with the 2010 Market logo and decided to forgo the 3 franc deposit and take them home as souvenirs.  (Not a bad price for a mug in Switzerland!)  During our tour of the rest of the city we visited the colorfully painted Rathaus, which featured a large tree decorated simply with large silver balls.

Baar Rathaus at Christmas

This restraint seems typical of Swiss Christmas decorations generally.  Streets everywhere were filled with delicate traceries of white lights, sidewalks filled with small simply decorated pine trees.  The Swiss love Christmas -- shops begin to fill with decorations in the middle of November -- but they don't overdo it.

Because most people live in apartments, there is less opportunity for the gaudy light displays that make suburban America famous, or infamous.  But every apartment seems to have a balcony, however small, and many folks decorate theirs with strings of white lights.  We did notice in Baar that where people live in townhouses, with entrances directly onto the street, they get more creative.

On the other hand, some tend toward more stereotyped Christmas fare.  We were amused by the SWAT Santas scaling the walls of one townhouse.  And then we started seeing the same rather sinister figures protruding from the walls of farmhouses around the region.

Now, I can't speak from direct observation about the way Swiss people decorate the inside of their homes for Christmas, because we have yet to be invited inside a home.  This isn't unusual, for we have been repeatedly told that the Swiss draw a strong line between their public and private lives.  Much socializing takes place in restaurants and only very close friends are invited home.  So you aren't likely to see the rush of holiday parties and open houses that are common in the U.S.  Parties are more intimate, about the number of guests that fit around a table for raclette or fondue.

Hence you will have to settle for a glimpse of our little place this Christmas.  We brought with us our creche, artificial tree and a few ornaments.  We bought lights and candles at Ikea and a few pine boughs at the local Migros, and MS, who is much more adept at this sort of thing, took the arranging in hand.

We did notice when visiting both Protestant and Catholic churches that they observe Advent, in that there are no Christmas decorations until Christmas Eve.  Large, stately pines stood in each church, completely bare of decoration, waiting until the evening of Christmas Eve to be decked out.  To my mind it is a fitting way to symbolize the hopeful, waiting spirit of Advent.

Switzerland has an interesting policy regarding holidays: if they happen to occur on a weekend, well and good, but there are no makeup days, no Friday or Monday vacation days.  Nevertheless, on the day before a holiday stores must close early, around 4 or 5 pm.  And so a hush fell over the neighborhood early on Christmas Eve, as the snow fell softly all around.  We celebrated by sharing our first-ever fondue using a new set, a gift from our family.  I was delighted to find broadcasts of carol services on British television -- nothing puts me in a Christmas mood better than English choristers.  At quarter to 11 pm, the bells of St. Martin's began to peal, calling the faithful to Midnight Mass.  It was a joyous sound, frequently repeated throughout the holiday week.

And then on to New Year's Eve -- Sylvester in Switzerland, after the saint whose feast day it is.  Shortly after Christmas, MS and I begin to notice strange objects in many shop windows -- little red mushrooms with white spots, cute pink pigs, ladybugs, four-leaf clovers, and chimney sweeps.  They were so ubiquitous that we began to realize that they were somehow related to New Year's.  An internet search confirmed this and the fact that New Year's celebrations in many places focus on talismans of good luck -- rather than the Old Man/Cherub images of the Old and New Year that predominate in America.  (The only good luck custom that I could recall being associated with New Year's was serving black-eyes peas, but that wasn't a custom we followed.)  So MS and I began to collect said talismans.  By Friday we lacked only a ladybug, and we charged The Spouse with acquiring one while we visited the top of Rigi (of which you will hear more in the next post).  He accomplished his mission admirably with an amazing torte from a local bakery, and we were set.

I have to confess that we are not huge fans of New Year's celebrations.  In fact, in recent years TS and I have tended to celebrate the new year about 7 pm in Pennsylvania, when it crosses Greenwich Mean Time, and go to bed early so as to beat the crowds to the ski slopes next morning.  After much channel surfing, we finally found an appropriate celebration at the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin and settled in to wait for the new year.  All was quiet around us on the streets of Baar, until St. Martin's bells again began to peal at 11:45.  Soon they were joined by the pops and bangs of fireworks being set off throughout town.  Though each was small by the standard of professional displays, they were numerous and easily visible through our big windows, so that it seemed as though the town was putting on a display just for us.  The cacophany continued through the turning of the year and the bells pealed for another quarter of an hour.  Fireworks kept on sporadically and then stopped suddenly at 12:30, as though by edict.  We went off to bed feeling that we had somehow participated in a proper civic welcome to the New Year from within the comfort of our living room.

 

And now I'd like to wish all of you a happy, prosperous, and meaningful 2011!  Or, as we say here, Zweitausend Elf!