In this case, we couldn't eat and drink our way out of the doldrums because we'd just done that in Paris. So what's the backup cure? An excursion, of course!
Living in the top unit on the sixth floor affords us some fair views (most buildings in the city aren't over four stories) and at night, on the very top of the hillside on the other side of Lake Zurich, significantly above any residential lights, glows an interesting stand-alone tower. There's also a tiny Argentinean wine bar a mere two blocks from home, and during our second visit there (already) and conversation with the very genial manager Hans, a native Zuricher, we'd asked about the tower. Hans said it was called the Uetliberg, the highest point in Zurich, and a good hike in the spring. As our first weekend in the new apartment rolled around, we quickly agreed spring was too long to wait.
That Saturday morning, we hit the local cafe for wireless Internet access to research (mostly in German) transportation options for attacking the Uetliberg. Armed with some vague initial directions, we donned our hiking attire, geared up and recruited additional support from our four-legged anti-Sherpa. Right outside our building we grabbed Tram #11--running down Lake Zurich's east side--rode it to the city center in about 8 minutes and transferred to the tram running down the lake's west side, lucky Tram #13. We reached the line's end about 15 minutes later at a stop called Albisgutli, kick-off point for the trail to the Uetliberg. As any seasoned hiker knows, the biggest challenge of any backcountry excursion is simply locating the trailhead. Luckily, Switzerland makes screw-ups difficult through an unbelievably well-marked trail system (across the entire country) with abundant signposts, trail names, destinations and distances--gotta love that Swiss attention to detail.
Leaving the tram tracks, we ascended two more street blocks on foot at quite a steep angle, following trail markers on lampposts, to reach the beginnings of forest and the trailhead map indicating a short jaunt to the Uetliberg summit. More interesting, the map detailed a network of additional dayhiking trails stretching for dozens of miles over Lake Zurich's western forested hillside. With a last glance up at the two neighboring towers (a la J.R.R. Tolkien, except these were our nighttime glowing tower looking now like a scaled-down Eiffel and the other a monstrous red cell phone tower) looming on the hilltop visible above, we plunged into the trees and up the trail.
The going was immediately slow. The trail's grade was fairly extreme, every step above the last like stairs, with a slippery surface of wet dirt and half-melted snow thanks to Zurich's recent run of 30-to-35 degree weather. Progress seemed a bit difficult until, after gaining a bit of altitude, the surface changed to half-melted ice and snow, at which point real progress became wishful thinking and just staying upright became difficult. That is unless you're the canine traveling companion, whose low center of gravity and crampon-like claws afforded total control, and when coupled with his zeal for ice and snow had him running circles around and laughing at his parents. We picked our way slowly upward.
After 40 minutes or so, ever nearer the hilltop and without anyone plunging over the side or headlong backwards, the trail opened up into a series of plateaus with incredible views of Lake Zurich, the entire city and the distant majestic Alps. Anyone familiar with the folly of trying to reproduce view panoramas with a single snapshot will understand that this picture only begins to capture the scene:
During our trek and at the viewpoints, we encountered a few additional couples or groups descending our direction, including one group with a baby "protected" in her father's arms as he picked his way treacherously down the icy slope while his companion descended behind wrestling with a mega-sized stroller (all strollers are mega-sized these days not only in the U.S., as we've learned, but also Switzerland and probably all of Europe). Hello, nutsos?!? But it begged the question, how did they get up there? And as we climbed nearer the peak and the trail widened and cleared of ice and snow and intersected with new wide trails, and new signposts appeared, and the groups became larger and less athletic-looking, and appeared to have been strolling rather than cramponing for dear life, our pipe dream of summiting in solitude evaporated and something else became obvious--there's a lot easier way up here.
Finally reaching the top, we should not have been surprised by the inevitable prize we knew (from previous trips to Interlaken and Lucerne) exists at the summit of every Swiss peak--a viewing area with countless benches and a fancy restaurant and hotel and several coffee and food stands. Our glowing mini-Eiffel is an observation deck reachable by climbing several stories of stairs. After ogling the magnificent views of the city and far down Lake Zurich and distant jagged Alpine peaks (over two hours away by train), we followed the signs a five-minute walk back down the other side of the hill to--you guessed it--the train that winds its way down (or up!) the entire hillside back to northwest Zurich city. Slightly worn and windswept and numb, we opted for discretion over valor, bought three train tickets back to Zurich and watched our once-elated-now-exhausted muddy mountaineering companion pass out on the train ride home.
Nothing visible had changed in the apartment--no elves had installed any track lighting or organized our clothes during those three hours--but believe it or not, that Uetliberg excursion somehow permanently shook away our doldrums. Of course the feelings of impatience with the apartment and homesickness didn't disappear completely, but that one little difficult icy trek a mere 25 minutes from our front door somehow supplanted the perception and promise of as-yet-undiscovered and awesome things in 2008.
2 comments:
It must run in the family, Mom and I did the same thing in Halstatt, Austria. We hiked uphill for over an hour, only to find a funicular on the reverse side of the mountain.
We did not however have to fight any crowds. Most people rode up and walked down giving us plenty of "room". Oh yah, one other problem, there were no crowds. Halstatt only has 400 residents.
Just remember though, you may have struggled a bit, but your furry son loved it, and of course, keeping your children happy is very important.
Loved the story of your adventure. I can just see Hobbes in his glory, loving every minute of this hike.
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