RETURN TO THE ALPS
By H. G. Watts
I. New Year, 1947. Wengen.
It was in May 1946 that we decided, come what might, that we would go ski-ing at Christmas. Because we liked the Oberland we chose Wengen ; it faces the sun, and is a good place for children to learn how to ski. We booked our rooms for 23rd December, and settled down to seven months of saying that something was sure to stop us going.
We got to Calais after dark, the tide had been tricky, and the Southern Railway was taking no chances with the newly refitted S.S. ” Canterbury.” The sea was rough, and there were 930 passengers on board. Calais has a new bright customs house, but here came the first noticeable change from pre-war days. Where were all the porters, that shouting, gabbling, gesticulating mob that used to bustle English travellers unintelligibly through the ” Douane ” and into the wrong carriage, or even the wrong train ?
There was a strange quietness about France, impressing itself upon the consciousness throughout the night, at Amiens, at Laon, Rheims and Chalons-sur-Marne. Even the trains seemed to have forgotten how to make that once familiar hissing noise at stations, perhaps the steam supply had some thing to do with that – t was very cold.
There would be a breakfast car at the Swiss frontier, ” Oui, M’sieur, a neuf heures et demi, assurement.” Six hours late at Porrentruy, omelette with real eggs, fresh rolls and black cherry jam – at 3.30 p.m.! Real strong coffee to wash away the taste of the bitter acorn brew gulped in buffets at Chaumont and Belfort.
Then the ” Ting-tong” of the signal bells as we went through the stations, and soon the cheery gutturals of the Swiss-German dialect after we passed the language frontier at Biel. Interlaken-Ost, Lauterbrunnen, and the Wengernalp Bahn for the last lap, the snow getting deeper and the air
crisper as we went up. The welcome as we walked into the Hotel Waldrand was what we had been looking forward to for eight dreary years ; Fraulein Lauener was in the hall to shake us all by the hand and to tell us that supper would be ready as soon as we were, The head waitress loaded out plates, and came back with second helpings ; when we asked if there would be enough to go round she just said ” You are in Switzerland now.” We found out later that the Swiss were actually as severely rationed as we in England, but food in abundance was made available for visitors because they realise that health and contentment are their country’s greatest export.
Money caused us a little anxiety at first. The amount we had been allowed to take out of England was then £75 for each adult, and £40 for each child under 16. We found, however, that this allowance was plenty and to spare for a stay of three weeks, even when we had bought all we wanted in the shops. Staying, as we did, in a small hotel, our board and lodging came to just £1 each per day, including heating, baths, afternoon tea and tips. People staying in larger and more expensive hotels found it more difficult.
Wengen has become much more cosmopolitan since the war. Before, English was the language one heard spoken in the shops, on the slopes, in the train and in the bars. Now, although there are plenty of English people, the language one hears most of is, quite properly, Schweizer-Deutsch. The Swiss have taken up ski-ing with tremendous enthusiasm, and at the Christmas and New Year holidays they come up in their hundreds from the industrial towns.
They ski well, with a reckless disregard for their own, and sometimes other people’s, safety, but they are better per formers on hard than on soft snow. On the latter the middle-aged Englishman, who learnt the Telemark in the early nineteen twenties, comes into his own and leaves them behind. They are cheerful and friendly, and obviously pleased to see us back in their country.
Although on high days and holidays the more frequented runs, such as ” The Bumps ” and ” Tschuggen Glade ” are perhaps a little too thickly covered with fast-moving or prostrate bodies, the less sociable performer with a desire for solitude does not have to go far from the beaten track to find it, either on the broad slopes below the ” Mannlichen,” or on the Punchbowl below Eigergletscher, while the impressive but really easy slope known as ” Oh God ! ” is quite untrodden, except for a few linked Christies which look fine from the train on the other side of the valley, but on closer inspection are not free from an occasional ” grave.”
A ski-lift from the Scheidegg to the summit of the Lauberhorn has opened up the runs from there back to Scheidegg or down to Wengernalp station, and saves a climb of i| hours. Another ski-lift from Inner Wengen to the practice slopes at Allmend avoids the 25 minutes’ trek back to Wengen and gives a final 600 feet of running.
There is a new rope railway from Grindelwald to the Faulhorn slopes on the north side of the Grindelwald valley, and this has given access to a glorious stretch of new ski-ing country.
We were lucky with the weather. Snow fell at Christmas, and again at New Year, and a light fall a week later covered places beginning to be dangerously icy. Between snowfalls the sun shone and it froze hard. There was no sign of the general thaw which so often spoils three days between Christmas and New Year. Christmas is not really an ideal time to go, if one is not, as we are at present, tied by school holidays. The days are short, and the high tours made possible by the railway to the Jungfraujoch are not practicable until late January owing to the danger of sudden unsettled weather After mid-January the sun has increased in strength, there is almost a certainty of good snow and settled weather, and the absence of holiday crowds makes life less of a scramble.
British ski-ing at Wengen is organised by the Downhill Only Club ; this is not, as one might be led to think from its name, an organisation the sole object of which is to encourage Englishmen and-women to hurl themselves over precipices, but a club which does everything possible to help skiers of all degrees of proficiency or otherwise, from the perambulator to the bathchair. In 1947 the club was being revived after the war, had acquired office premises in the village, and was organising S.C.G.B. tests, races for all grades of skiers, and club runs for members. Activities were a little hampered by lack of experienced members to act as club officials, but this was a difficulty which would right itself as new members became established. A delightful function is the weekly Dutch party in the Eiger bar,on Wednesday evenings ; the favourite drink is draught white wine straight from the barrel.
The day came only too soon when we climbed into the Wengenalp Bahn for the last time and snaked downhill through the tunnels. Lauterbrunnen, Interlaken-Ost, the last glorious dinner in the Swiss dining car, Bern, Porrentruy, and the night-long rattle through France, to a dawn at Amiens showing the devastation of 1940 and 1944, increasing until at Boulogne and Calais only a quarter of the houses are habitable and the once prosperous cement industry is virtually derelict.
II. New Year, 1949. Wengen again.
An austere Chancellor interfered with our plans in 1948, so once again we booked our rooms at the Waldrand many months ahead and hoped for the best in 1949. We kept our selves amused on foggy evenings calculating how much we would be able to do with £35 each.
The post-war French 2nd class carriages are far from comfortable, the seats are hard and narrow, and do not pull out like the old ones used to. But some of the once familiar noises were beginning to creep back, the gabble at Calais, the hiss of the steam, and the tinkle of the restaurant car attendant’s bell. The carriages were overheated and the train was dead on time. A food-hog run down the corridor at Porrentruy was rewarded with hot coffee and eggs and bacon at 9 a.m., and we got to Wengen in time for lunch instead of late for dinner. The great advantage of this is that all the essential accoutrements can be acquired in the ski shop in the afternoon and one is ready to start serious ski-ing at first light next day.
Rumours about shortage of snow had reached us in England, but it began to snow as we reached Lauterbrunnen ; we felt that this was a good augury. But our hopes were short-lived, it only snowed lightly for a few hours, and that on to hard bare ground, so that a slight puff of wind blew it away, and the normal New Year traffic down Brooklands, over the Bumps and round Slip Cartilage Corner soon swept it off, revealing treacherous lumps of rock and frozen molehills. It wasn’t till the last day of our stay that enough snow fell to give a good foundation, and even that was spoilt by a thaw. Through out the fortnight the sudden change from vertical body and horizontal skis to vertical skis and horizontal body was accompanied by an unreasonably large amount of pain and suffering. However, such snow as did fall in the Alps at this time fell at Wengen, and we counted ourselves lucky indeed compared with places like Davos, and the Engadine, where they got practically none.
The best ski-running was on the north side of the Scheidegg, especially Punchbowl, Mannlichen and Tschuggen Glade, where the snow is not much exposed to the sun. Mannlichen was done three times, once under good conditions of fresh powder snow, and twice when the snow was crusted, ridged and very tricky. The best run of the fortnight was down Tschuggen Glade immediately after a snowstorm but in sunshine. On two occasions my habit of carrying a spare ski-point in my rucksack saved a member of the party from a ruined day and a long trudge home with a broken ski.
The penurious state of all British visitors arouses the keenest sympathy and helpfulness in the Swiss, and one’s choice of some object in a shop usually brings forth from the shopkeeper some such remark as ” You would do just as well with this one instead, it is nearly as good and half the price.” Actually the ｣35 is quite adequate for a fortnight as long as one stays at the cheaper hotels and keeps away from spiritous liquors. Our hotel bill, including baths, tips and kurtax, and not drinks or afternoon tea, came to just under Fr.20 per day each, that is about 23s. The most expensive items are the ski-school and the Wengernalp Bahn. Under the prevailing snow conditions the railway could not well be avoided, and a run down any of the north-facing slopes on the Grindelwald side of the Scheidegg would cost a skier from Wengen Fr.7 in rail fares.
The D.H.O. Club is now under the presidency of Ken Foster who for many years has cheerfully carried the burden of editing the club’s journal. There are fast club runs and ordinary club runs two or three times a week, and the white wine at the Eiger bar is as ambrosial as ever.