| |
 |
| After
driving for over an hour, we stopped at Cafe Krenger, overlooking Lake
Lungern in |
| the
village of Lungern. Luciano
is sitting on the left and Irmi on the right. It was a warm |
|
day, so Irmi ordered an ice coffee, which on The Continent consists of a
deep glass of |
| ice
cream drenched in warm coffee. Luciano and I
opted for manly double espresso's. |
| |
 |
| This
is Lake Lungern, viewed from our seats on the outdoor terrace of Cafe
Krenger. |
| |
 |
| We
have arrived. This is Gässlihof (pronounced "guess-lee-hoaf"),
a sort of dairy |
| farm
bed and breakfast on the outskirts of Gstaad run by friends of Christian
and Doris. |
| |
 |
| If
you stand at the front door of Gässlihof and turn ninety degrees to the
right, this is what you see. |
| |
 |
| Friday
evening, at Gässlihof, enjoying dinner. L to R: Doris,
Christian, me, and Luciano. |
| (with
Irmi behind the camera) |
| |
 |
| Late
Saturday morning, hiking in the hills above Gstaad. |
| See
the red blooms? Those are called "Alpine Roses." |
| |
 |
| Whoa!
Check out the babe downhill. Let's see if we can get a good shot
of her. |
| |
 |
| Irmi,
checking out the guy who is checking her out. |
| |
 |
| Doris
and Irmi out in front. The low stone wall must be several hundred
years old. |
| |
 |
| Beyond
every hill is . . . another hill. That's Luciano standing at the
crest. |
| |
 |
| In
winter, I ski across meadows covered in three to five feet of snow and
never give a thought to what |
| lay
beneath my feet; in summer, I wander among these magical blooms.
Where do they come from? |
| |
 |
| Luciano
and Doris ahead. See the band of sunlight across the distant
hills? |
| |
 |
| Doris
with her faithful Kiera (pronounced Key-Rah). Kiera is a purebred |
| Alpenzeller,
an extremely loyal,
one-person dog. Kiera bounded
headlong |
| through
open meadows and scrub brush alike, an absolute joy to watch. |
| |
 |
| We
stopped at this old farm house for lunch -- and to witness a batch of
Alpine cheese in the making. |
| |
 |
| About
twenty cows are housed in a barn on the other side of the wall.
The large copper kettle was filled |
| with
milk and warmed over a wood fire for about one hour. Here, the
Farmer has just opened the curved |
|
protective steel casing and swung the kettle out and away from the fire
and closed the steel casing again. |
| |
 |
| The
milk has curdled from the heat and settled at the bottom of the kettle.
The farmer and his |
|
wife are in the process of scooping out a batch; and, yes, folks, that
is genuine cheese cloth. |
| |
 |
| Next,
the curdled mass has been pounded into a round wooden form. |
| |
 |
| The
round wooden forms are then placed under one-hundred pounds of pressure
for approximately one hour. |
| |
 |
| After
one hour, the cheese wheels are removed from the wooden forms and placed
in a cool cellar to age. |
| Three
to eight months must pass before the cheese becomes edible. The
markings on the cheese wheels |
| identify
the production date and the farmer who provided the milk, as several
farmers share this kettle room. |
| |
 |
| After
lunch and the cheese demonstration, we hit the trail again. This
was the first time |
| I
had been in the lead all day, so I turned to my rear and snapped a shot
of the others: |
| Luciano
on the left, Doris in front, and Irmi in the rear, with Lake Arnen in
the background. |
| |
 |
| Having
climbed higher still, we paused again to look back down on Lake Arnen.
The |
|
structure in the middle is where we ate lunch and watched the cheese
being made. |
| |
 |
| This
was the highest point of our ascent. Christian's father, at that
time ninety years young and
imprisoned |
| in
an old folk's home, had spent many summers living in the hut in the
distance and also
climbed several of |
| the
mountains in the background. Doris
promised to bring him a photo of "his" hut, and some Alpine Roses. |
| |
 |
| Pausing
a few minutes before heading back down the mountain. |
|
L to R: Kiera, Doris with her Alpine Roses, Irmi and Me (with
Luciano behind the camera). |
| |
 |
| Luciano
and Irmi taking a short break next to a small (hidden) stream. |
| |
 |
| Having
dropped several hundred meters, we approach the shoreline of Lake Arnen.
Luciano |
| and
Doris are about to disappear around the bend, . . . and Irmi and I are
about to steal a kiss. |
| |
 |
| The
trail on the left side of the lake was blocked due to recent flooding,
so we backtracked around to the |
| right
side for the final leg to our car, parked beyond the tree-covered spine
extending across the water. |
| |
 |
| Around
eight o'clock Saturday evening, Christian drove us up a steep,
kidney-jarring rutted and oft |
| unpaved
road to a vantage point at 1800 meters elevation for a panoramic view of
the surrounding |
| area.
A sliver of Lake Arnen, where we had hiked earlier in the day, is
visible in the background. |
|
Left to Right: Ron, Doris, Christian, and Luciano (with Irmi, of
course, behind the camera). |
| |
 |
| Celebrating
dinner Saturday night at a tiny, one-man (French) extremely rustic
restaurant halfway up the |
| mountain.
(We are sitting in a former animal stall!) The menu called for
cheese fondue, and
yours truly is |
| lactose intolerant, so the chef
also provided homemade soup, farm bread,
pickled onions, sausages, and |
|
dried meat strips from a pet cow butchered the previous fall.
I must say, it is unnerving to be told the name |
| of
the unfortunate beast that gave its life for your main course;
but, hungry is hungry, and I ate with gusto. |
| |
 |
| Our
room at the Gässlihof Sunday morning, as we prepared to check out. |
| |
 |
| Our
hosts, Walter and Daniela. Friday evening, we came together
as strangers. |
| Sunday
afternoon, we parted as friends. That's how it works high in
the Alps. |
| |
 |
| Late
Sunday morning, we took a stroll through downtown Gstaad.
Unfortunately, the old man on the bench |
| wouldn't
move, so there he sits, in the middle of the snapshot. See the
flags above the street? The Swiss |
| flag
hangs at both the far left and far right. Along with Vatican City,
it is one of only two national flags in the |
| world
that are square and not rectangular. The two flags containing the
bear are from the Canton of Bern. |
| |
 |
| One
of the oldest chalets in Gstaad. Irmi could not resist the
gorgeous flowers on the balcony railings. |
| |
 |
| On
the drive home, we stopped for coffee at a small restaurant on the
shores of Lake Tun, in the village of |
| Faulensee.
The weather here was much warmer than up in the mountains. The
lake water was still on the |
| chilly
side (18 degrees C / 65 degrees F), but a group of scuba divers were
training, and a few brave young |
| boys
went swimming. We settled for dipping our feet in at the water's
edge. (Luciano at left; Ron at right.) |
| |
 |
| That's
all, folks. Adios, adieu, und auf Wiedersehen. |
| |
