Rain! I came to Switzerland primarily to hike the Alps, but Mother Nature had other plans. Actually, I was willing to hike in the rain. The real problem was the clouds. Shrouding the peaks and floating down into the canyons, the fog obstructed otherwise spectacular views. The first two days the weather was bad the whole day and I ended up just exploring around town. The third day, it was predicted to be fairly clear in the morning and then a chance of rain the afternoon.
Not wanting to miss my opportunity, I got up early and walked to the train station. Unfortunately, I didn't have my shit together like I thought I did. I had researched the hike online and had written down how to get there: train to Trub, bus to Stockalp, gondola to Masse-Frutt and then I had gone to the tourist information office to verify this and get a trail map. The tourist information lady was very helpful and even circled my stop on the train timetable. Then, the next morning when I bought my train ticket to Trub, I went up to get on the train and noticed that Sarnen, the stop that the tourist information lady had circled wasn't listed. The tourist information office wasn't open yet, so I went back to the ticket office and asked and was told that Sarnen was indeed not a stop on the way to Trub.
The tourist information office would open 15 minutes later and I decided to wait instead of getting on what sounded like the wrong train. I was first in line when the doors opened and a different lady was there to help me this time. I explained the situation and she said "Trub? Where is Trub? You need to go to Sarnen." Back at the ticket office, I told the women at the window that I had bought the wrong ticket and asked if I could exchange it. She did not like me and I had trouble figuring out what she was asking.
"Why did you buy this?", she said while scowling.
"I am trying to do the four lakes hike and I was given bad information. I went to the tourist office and found out that I actually need to go to Sarnen."
After a long stare, "Trub C. You have to go to Trub C."
"I was told that I have to go to Sarnen."
"Yes, but through Trub C."
"Okay..."
"You want to end up at Masse-Frutt?"
"Yes, I'm going to do the four lakes hike."
"Do you want the Trolpass?"
"Umm, I'm not sure. What is that?"
"Where are you going after Masse-Frutt?"
"I'm going to hike."
"Well I can't tell you if you need the Trolpass if you don't know where you're going."
"I'm going to do the four lakes hike."
"We have a special price, but if you don't know where you're going I can't help you."
"I am going to hike, so I don't understand your question."
"Well if you don't know where you're going then I can't help you. I will just give you a ticket to Masse-Frutt."
"Yes, that'd be great. Thanks."
The confusion cost me about an hour and then the trip to the starting point of the hike took another two hours, so it wasn't until almost 11 that I got started. At the top of the gondola, it was already foggy and raining. After a false start down the wrong path, I got back on track and as I passed the first lake, the rain stopped and a small piece of blue sky peaked through. It got my hopes up, but it soon started raining again and continued on and off for the rest of the hike. It was difficult to take pictures at all because of the rain. I had to use my body to shield the camera, which meant that I couldn't aim the it well or see the preview screen. I had to take a picture and then look at the resulting image and try again repeatedly.
There were cows all along the hike, each wearing a cow bell, but each bell had a different pitch. The result was that in that herds in the distance sounded like primitve musical troupes.
The trail wasn't marked all that well and I ended up missing a turn. I hiked almost to the top of the mountain before I realized my mistake. I met a couple of mountain bikers as I backtracked who were equally confused. Finally, I found a local woman who only spoke German, but was able to point me in the right direction. Just as I found the path again, the sunlight got darker, a the temperature dropped, and the rain intensified. The path led down into a valley and then back up the other side. At the bottom of the valley there was a sign that pointed to Engleberg and said 4.5 hours. That was not good. I had read that the hike ended in Engleberg and that whole hike was 4.5 hours. I had already hiked for over three hours at that point. I found some shelter and decided to stop and put on my fleece underneath my shirt and jacket to help stay warm. My fingers were so cold that I had trouble buttoning my shirt back up and I only managed to get two of the buttons done. As I hiked up the pass, hunger gnawed at me. I had bought two large pretzels before I left, but when I lhad ooked in the bag there was only one pretzel, which I'd already eaten. I trudged steadily upwards, but at a slow pace. The cold had stolen all my energy. I came a fork and pulled out my trail map to figure out which direction was correct, but the map was so wet that it disintegrated in my hands as I tried to unfold it.
I finally made it to the top of the ridge and was greeted by a foggy view of a beautiful valley. Oh well. I met a man hiking the opposite direction and asked him if I was on the path to Engleberg. He said yes, that it was about three hours away, but that an hour away there was a gondola that I could take if I wished. Ah, so that explained why the sign had said 4.5 hours to Engleberg. When I arrived at the gondola, I decided to take it. Apparently, it was near closing time and all the workers were riding down. I had to pull one of them aside to buy a ticket and felt quite fortunate that I had made it there before they closed. When it got to the lower station, I got off and walked out, and then quickly realized that I had gotten off too early. I had never been on a gondola before that had an intermediate stop, so it didn't even occur to me that I should stay on. There was no way back on without a new ticket and all the workers were gone. As I searched around the area, the gondola stopped. Closing time.
There was a sign that said Englebern and pointed left and then another sign that said Engleberg and pointed right. I chose left and after several wrong choices at unmarked forks, I found a marked path. Fourty five minutes later, I was at the Engleberg train station. After my wrong turns and the gondola mishap, it ended up being a seven and a half hour hike. Engleberg is the epitome of an alpine village. It's at the foot of several mountain, some with bright green grass, the higher peaks covered in snow.
When I made it back to the hostel I looked at the weather prediction for the next day. When I had looked the night before, it has said partly cloudy. Now it was calling for rain.
In the morning I checked out of the hostel and went to buy a train ticket to Italy. If it was going to keep raining, there was no point in staying in Switzerland. My brother, Chris, is in Trieste, Italy for a conference and I was planning on meeting him there and then splitting a rental car and driving around Croatia for a few days. I went to my favorite train ticket window and was told that there were no trains to Italy because the Italian rail workers were on strike. Wonderful. The Italians have more strikes than Nolan Ryan. At the bus station I was told that there were no bus routes into Italy. Seriously? I looked online at airline prices and at least on short notice, they were very expensive. Apparently, I just can't get there from here.
Then, it occurred to me that since Trieste is right on the Italian border and we were planning on driving to Croatia from there, I might be able to run an end-around on the Italians by taking a train through Austria to Slovenia. I went back to the ticket window and asked there were any trains going to Slovenia. I was in luck. I found a map and decided that Koper, which is on the Italy-Slovenia border would probably be the best place to meet Chris, but I would have to coordinate with him before I commited to a specific destination. So, I decided to take a train to Salzburg, which is in the right direction and then tomorrow to Slovenia. Hopefully the Croatian weather gods will be more merciful than the Swiss.