The Tageskarte story and arrival in Lauterbrunnen
In Interlaken, I easily met up with my friends, even though the connection was, as usual, only about ten minutes. The guys gave me a spare Tageskarte, and I validated it right away, keeping my previous sad experience in mind.
The thing is, when we were hiking up to the Aletsch Glacier, I started from Fiesch, and in the morning I didn't need the Tageskarte. And when we were leaving after the hike, we were in a hurry, and I forgot to validate it. As a result, at every train stop, I frantically tried to jump out and find a ticket validator, while trying not to get left behind at the station. I ran back and forth, trying to get out of the exact car that was closest to the validator. Fitness champion Anastasia and her friend were riding right next to us, and they laughed their asses off at this. As luck would have it, nothing was working out for me. Either the validator was nowhere to be seen, or it was too far to run, or I was afraid I wouldn't make it in time, and ran back in. It all ended when we arrived in a big city. I jumped out and saw a ticket inspector on the platform, just as she saw me. Fortunately, the train made a pause of a few minutes at this station, and I finally found the validator. I shoved the piece of cardboard into the slot and heard the sharp "bzzzzt" of the dot-matrix printer inside. Victory at last!
I got back into the train and sat in my seat with a sense of duty fulfilled. And then I noticed that the validation time on the Tageskarte was two minutes in the future. Could this device error actually screw me over? Literally a minute later, the inspector came up. She briefly glanced at my card and moved on, paying no attention to the messed-up time or the fact that I had been running out of the train car.
Luck. But you're not always that lucky. Judging by my friends' stories, and even my own experience, the Swiss often act mindlessly and by the book. In some cases, they simply cannot overcome the rigid framework of artificial rules, even if it makes absolutely no sense. For instance, one time an inspector first promised to help our buddy buy a ticket (the app wasn't working), and then when he got on the train, just went ahead and fined him.
We, however, successfully arrived in Lauterbrunnen. And discovered that a mountain running marathon was taking place there, and a bunch of streets were blocked off. You'll find out how much that stopped us in the next part. As well as about my personal experience with the rigidity of the locals.
Ice cream in the village shop and splitting up on the hike
First, about my experience with by-the-book behavior. It happened when I was riding my alcobike. I popped into a village shop and bought coffee and ice cream. I took a wooden stick and a plastic spoon to stir it. The cashier didn't see me take the spoon because she was busy. The ice cream was terribly icy and rock-hard, and I broke both the stick and the spoon on it. I went to get a new one. And the cashier says to me: "You can't take a spoon for ice cream. You are only allowed to take a wooden stick for it. The spoon is only for food." To me, this sounds wild, because where else would a store grudge you a disposable spoon? Especially since I had also bought coffee. The cashier's English sucked, and so I didn't bother arguing, but just went back to my little bench in the square.
There are upsides too — I left the alcobike in the store parking lot without a lock, and didn't sweat it much. I can say with 95% confidence that in a small village nobody is going to covet it. That's the culture, the incomes, the people. In my home neighborhood, I get nervous even when I secure my bike with a tough hardened steel lock and set the alarm. I still try to peek through the window to see who's walking near it.
Getting back to the present, we first had to wait for a buddy who had gotten off the train at the wrong stop twice, even though he was supposedly riding together with everyone else. As much of a klutz as I am, even for me that rarely happens, let alone twice in a row. We waited, marveling at the maniacs willing to run through the mountains. Half an hour later, the buddy showed up, and we set off. Part of the way we had to walk alongside the runners, even though technically you're not really supposed to. What can you do — two people from our team had been working all week. This particular Saturday was the only day they could get out for a hike, so this was no time for sentiments. And so we reached a fork leading to a trail, where I checked my map and then suggested leaving the road and heading deep into the woods. So we did.
A short while later, the track — which wasn't being navigated by me on this hike — came back out onto the road. I stared at the map for a bit and announced that I'd much rather walk through the woods, and the distance was the same. A lively argument kicked off about how we needed to make it to the glacier in time and all that. I am confident in my own navigation skills, but not in other people's, so I said I'd go the way I planned.
It was time to split up!
On foot to the Wengernalp station and buying tickets
So, the previous part ended with me digging my heels in and getting ready to go my own way. At first, the group wasn't led by me, but by our friend who lives in Zurich. Plus he's overconfident, unlike me. Therefore, nobody heard the part about the distance being the same, and those who did hear didn't believe it.
Nevertheless, one person from the group said that this wasn't nice. And that he would go with me. Well, I wasn't against it; in fact, I was all for it. We stomped off into the forest, and the rest onto the road with the runners. After a while, our trail also returned right back there. Fortunately, not for long. Our goal was the Wengernalp railway station, from where we were planning to take the train to the glacier. We could have walked a bit further on foot, up to Kleine Scheidegg, but time was tight.
In the end, we arrived at the station only a few minutes after the rest of the group, and even then, only because we weren't in much of a hurry. I'm not in the kind of shape to be skipping around the mountains like a little goat.
When the train pulled up, it turned out that our Tageskartes didn't work here, like, at all. At least according to the female conductor. We had to buy tickets. Here it also became clear that even though the folks had been in Switzerland for a week, practically no one had bothered to install the SBB transport app and link it to a payment card. There are no ticket machines at the station for hikers; the only option is the app. And you have to buy the tickets before getting on the train, otherwise you risk getting a fine. Somehow, our local buddy hastily got 5 tickets sorted, and I bought my own. I'm always surprised when this kind of don't-give-a-crap attitude reigns supreme around me, because sure, I'm like that myself, but couldn't other people prepare somehow? Of course, you could just say screw it, so as not to be a neurotic. But not many people can afford to constantly blow cash unexpectedly. Or, for example, come to Switzerland and then miss the glacier because they couldn't buy a train ticket in time.
Fortunately, this time it worked out fine. Just a few minutes later, the train arrived in Kleine Scheidegg, where it was already pretty chilly. We threw on all our various jackets and sweaters, and were still shivering from the cold. It was time to buy a ticket to the very top, the Jungfraujoch saddle at an altitude of 3.5 km.
A nasty surprise awaited us here. It turned out that train tickets to the glacier and back cost 150 francs a pop! Yikes!
Taking the train up to the Jungfraujoch station
This has never happened before, and here we go again! It's a mess in Switzerland!
Three times our friend asked in Swiss German if there was a discount for the train up with the Tageskarte. Three times he was told no.
I was lucky. I can almost always just go ahead and not give a damn about the expense. Especially if I'm traveling and want to have a blast. Not everyone has it so easy. And even I've only had it like this for the past five years. Before that, I couldn't afford a lot of things, and spent my coins carefully.
But in this case, I calmly bought the ticket and headed up. There were four of us, and three of us were chugging whiskey straight from the bottle. I'm pretty chill about alcohol (in every sense). Although, I do envy the heroic health of people who can booze it up and continue partying the next day. And here's another thing that pisses me off. My dad, who knows I practically don't drink, offers me a drink every single time he ties one on himself. As if something suddenly changed over the past month!
The train quickly entered a tunnel, and the rest of the journey took place in darkness. The floor of the train was tilted at an unbelievable angle. So much so that even standing on it required effort, let alone walking. However, we had no reason to walk: our car was empty, and so were the rest of them, by and large. If you remember, a couple of weeks ago I described the funicular in Stoos. There, the floor was floating so that it would always remain horizontal. On a train, doing something like that is probably not economically viable.
On the way up, there was only one stop for five minutes. The conductors advised us to go to the window and take a look at the glacier. We hastily did just that. Neurotics, what can you say — we didn't want to get stuck inside the rock in the freezing cold and without transport. The glacier wasn't particularly visible. The thick fog only let us figure out that there were snowy slopes around, but little else.
About half an hour later, the cogwheel railway train arrived in a gallery inside the Jungfraujoch mountain. There were so many Asians in the room that it felt like we were at a train station in Hong Kong. In reality, it's the highest railway station in Europe — 3,454 m.
So what's actually there?
The trip to Jungfraujoch and feeding the jackdaws
At the station inside the Jungfraujoch mountain, there's a glass wall through which you can take a look at a branch of the Aletsch Glacier. When we arrived, the fog parted, and for twenty seconds we contemplated a magnificent panorama. After this briefest clearing, our luck ran out, and a thick white fog constantly hung all around us.
We still went up to the observation deck of the Sphinx Observatory. The observatory is a hundred meters above the station, the highest in Europe. You get up there in a very, very fast elevator. It's designed that way to be able to manage transporting all these countless crowds of tourists who want to visit the "Top of Europe". It was pleasant on the deck: despite the temperature being around zero, the frost nipped softly, probably because of the fog. By the way, there's a high-quality webcam nearby, check it out: https://www.jungfrau.ch/webcams/top-of-europe-jungfraujoch/#/
Because of the fog, however, we didn't really get to see anything. All we had left to do was feed the highest-altitude birds in the world. These are Alpine jackdaws, which sometimes fly up to altitudes above 5 km, and have even been spotted on Mount Everest. They aren't afraid of humans and gladly take food right from your hands. For lack of the latter, from the trash cans of ski resorts and hotels. In Europe, they usually live below three kilometers, but who would pass up the chance to scarf down some chips! (Me)
The jackdaws, although showing some caution, gobbled down our supplies diligently. Just a dozen or two seconds, and the bird is ready to approach you. Then it's a piece of cake — it grabs it and hops back along the railing. Repeats until full.
The time for the last train down was running out. We no longer had time to visit the Ice Palace, where you could walk through rooms made of frozen water and admire transparent sculptures.
When we were getting on the train, something shocking came to light. Having asked for a fourth time, we found out: our Tageskartes actually did give a 50% discount. Turns out, our ticket should have cost 75 francs instead of 150! Good thing we at least paid 45 on the way down, instead of 90. That was something to be happy about, at least! It's a pity we got to the truth so late, otherwise the frugal guys would have gone with us. On the other hand, there wasn't much to see on the glacier anyway.
An hour later, we descended without incident to Lauterbrunnen, where we reunited with our prodigal friends.
A walk around Lauterbrunnen and advice to eat cake if there's no bread
In the evening we strolled around the village of Lauterbrunnen itself, quite lovely, although touristy as hell.
We admired the illuminated waterfall, and then we also managed to buy a kebab each. In the eatery, they poured me some boiling water for free. Even though it wasn't hot enough, because it was from a coffee machine, it was still nice. We left for home a bit late. Exhausted, I was spacing out and missed both the train and the bus from Zug to Baar, which happens to me pretty rarely. I didn't want to wait, so I walked another 3 km on foot, as if the previous 20k steps weren't enough. Got caught in the rain a little, and on top of that, went slightly the wrong way. Oh well, the main thing is I didn't get lost.
I don't remember if I told you, but the croissants in Switzerland are wonderful — the crust crunches, and inside they are soft and fresh. However, they are only sold in the morning — don't even expect them after lunch. Either the bakers love order, or they don't want to ruin the taste. My friend complains about the food in Switzerland. Looks like the only way out is to eat nothing but croissants!
Switzerland, of course, is a stunning country. Whether I was struck by the warm welcome, or the magnificence of the mountains, or the comfort of the trains and the wealth of the locals, it made a very strong impression. It immediately made me want to go there again, which happens to me quite rarely. Then again, there was the right balance of collective and individual (though with a slight skew towards the former, perhaps). Overall, next year, if the opportunity arises, I'd like to come again. To see the Large Hadron Collider, the steepest railway in the world at Pilatus, the thermal springs in Bad Ragaz, the Vallorbe caves, and other countless wonders. Who knows, maybe by that time I'll also have the means to ride a bike through the mountains, which would be a total blast.
I know it sounds like the famous advice to eat cake if there is no bread. Nevertheless — if you have the chance, I highly recommend visiting Switzerland, and definitely going into the mountains.
