Castle Hunting: Burg Hohenwerfen

It is amazing, in this part of the world, what a little digging around will produce. We came to Werfen, Austria, for the ice caves. We never made it underground, partly because we became fascinated by Burg Hohenwerfen, and by its nine hundred years of history. The fortress was built between 1075 and 1078 by Archbishop Gerhard of Salzburg, an ally of pope Gregory VII and of the antiking in a conflict I knew nothing about. The "Investiture Controversy" raged wild through this area - though it sounds like a town hall nepotism scandal, the controversy was one of the defining moments of the catholic church's medieval history.

When the young king Henry IV refused to allow pope Gregory to strip him of his right to appoint clergy, the church attempted to divest the Roman emperor (at that time, the emperor ruled Germany and Italy) of all of his religiously mandated powers. A series of moves created a schism between the bishops, and the territory they believed them, and those secular lords who remained loyal to the king. Eventually, it also produced an "antiking," Rudolf of Rheinfelden. King Henry was forced to give in to the papacy and beg forgiveness, barefoot in the snow. A few years later, however, Henry killed Rudolf, marched against Rome and caused pope Gregory to call upon the Normans for aid. The Normans ended up sacking Rome, which made the pope unpopular and forced him to flee. Henry restored imperial supremacy and then became entangled in other problems. It's a highly interesting conflict, and even more complicated than I've made it seem.

Burg Hohenwerfen sits on a 450 foot high outcropping of rock, deep in the folds of the Berchtesgaden Alps, built in preparation for an attack on the Salzburg bishops that never came. The central keep is built right around a pillar-like knob that extends up out of the trees. Earlier in its history the area around the walls would have been kept open as well, so that approaching forces could be seen more easily. The high tower - with the copper roof - is the centerpiece of the fortifications, and has the thickest walls. Lower crenelations spiral outward from this point, creating layers of defense; it would be almost impossible to attack the keep directly.
Lower walls became gradually less protective as the centuries passed and the castle's function became increasingly residential as opposed to warlike. After a fifteenth century sack by revolters during the German Peasant's War, which saw much of the building burned, the upper walls were opened up as well, reflecting a more peaceful period in the region's history.
Today, there's a restaurant and two gift shops, as well as several museum exhibits. A funicular climbs most of the way up to the castle, so overweight tourists don't get out of breath on the ten minute walk from the parking lot. It was a hot, sunny day when we visited and there was a falconry show going on in the lower forecourt. Some visitors were there for the castle itself, but I'm certain some were there because it was shown during a musical number in The Sound of Music.
The vistas, of course, are beautiful. The forecourt's been made into a nice, steep garden area, with pleasant places to sit and look out over the mountains.
Though we didn't really watch it, this was our second falconry show on the trip. From what we could see, it looked a lot like the first. More interesting (only slightly) was the museum of falconry in one of the outer towers. These are assorted hoods, used to keep the birds calm.
It took quite a bit of scampering around to get good shots of the walls - the valley's sides are steep and thickly forested. We ended up high on one slope in a cow pasture, where we decided it would be nice to have lunch. There was a handy spring and - surprisingly - a picnic table, where we could sit and enjoy the view.

Things Swiss People Like

Let's just get all the obvious things out of the way: dairy products, chocolate, yodeling, hiking.

A quick note about dairy products, though. As you can see by the photo snapped conspicuously on a grocery checkout line, cheese is definitely the favored milk product. The variety for sale, even at a gas station, was impressive. We hope the man above was having a dinner party, but with Swiss people you can't be too sure. Another favored lactose indulgence was cream dolloped onto meringues. That one sort of surprised us.

The Swiss flag. Almost every home hangs the red and white banner of patriotism in their front lawn. Cars place them in their windows. People wearing white-crossed baseball caps or shirts aren't necessarily tourists. It's the only square flag in the world, aside from Vatican City's. So, maybe the extra affection comes from its uniqueness.

Swiss people really like their national flag as well as the flags of the cantons and municipalities. Most often, all three are displayed together - along with any other one that signified the town or the family or the body of water. There were a lot of flags.

Large Chess Boards. At first we thought this was a one-off sighting in Bern. I'm used to couples dueling under the shade of park trees, but never standing up like this. It reminded me more of Mel Brooks' History of the World Part I than Washington Square Park.
But then we saw it again outside Luzern. Leave it to the Swiss to take one of the ultimate low-impact hobbies and make it a bit more physical. Now, if it were an enormous checkers board, it would have deserved its own post.
.5 Liter Bottles of Wine. It was rarer to find a full bottle of wine (750ml) than a 500ml one in Switzerland. In cafeterias, they were thrown into ice alongside beer. At highway rest stops, they were next to the Red Bulls in the fridge. It was nice to be able to buy two and try out the different types - also, one bottle is never really enough for two people (like us), but two is a little too much. So, these allowed us to strike the perfect balance. The downside: not necessarily wanting to have more than a glass at lunch and lugging the rest back down a mountain in your backpack. Waste not, want not.
Rare cars. The Swiss franc is doing very well and its pretty darn evident in a line up of parked cars. Most of the times, the rare cars we saw were classic BMWs, Bugattis and Maseratis. Sometimes, though, we saw something like the vehicle above. We had absolutely no idea what it was or where it came from, but there it was in Switzerland.
Paragliding. This is the thing that Swiss people liked which we got the most joy out of observing. On a Saturday or Sunday morning in the mountains, there were so many in the sky that I was half-expecting David Attenborough to begin a tale of great human migration.

We parked right next to a paragliding school and watched them land one after another, completely mesmerized. The landscape is just begging for the activity and Merlin coined it "a truly Swiss sport." I think he's right: it enjoys the natural splendor of things in a completely incomparable way. It's risky, but gentle. It involves gear, but not competitiveness. On Mother's Day, we saw at least one mom land with her husband and grown-up children cheering her on.

Honorable Mentions

Rösti aka fried, shredded potato aka Hash Browns. Sometimes they were served alongside a main course. Sometimes, with melted cheese or an egg on top, they were the main course. It was on every menu, ordered often and in great abundance in vacuum packs at the grocery stores.

Swiss products. Again, their economy is doing pretty well these days. Chain stores like COOP and Migros sold groceries that were almost exclusively Swiss. If it wasn't from Switzerland, it was labeled as such. Even menus would specify if meat was from any other country. For example, the horse meat in Gruyeres was from Canada - oddly enough.

Swiss Army Knives. Some of the window displays were absolutely comical. There's simply no way some of the combinations for sale could ever fit in someone's pocket. Of course, each had the much-loved Swiss flag on it.

Unholy Swiss Cheese: Appenzeller

From outside the town of Appenzell in a region lovingly called Appenzellerland comes a stinky, wonderful cheese called Appenzeller. This was the one we've been waiting for - the cheese that kept our consumption in Gruyères nominally restrained. Had to save room for the really good stuff. Appenzellerland isn't teeming with cows the way Gruyère was, nor is it with tourists. We found the demonstration dairy in the quaint little town of Stein - marked by three wedges on its front lawn.
The cheese is less well known, produced by about 70 dairies in the region. When we last lived in Manhattan, Rolf Beeler Appenzeller was all the rage with turophiles. My hopes of seeing a Beeler farm were dashed when I discovered that he only ages wheels. Not saying that isn't very important, but the cheese itself is made by artisans. I'm sure his wheels come from a dairy much smaller than the one we visited.
Appenzeller is made like any other large wheel of cheese, but then washed with a secret brine to create the rind. People say that the use of wine gives the more delicate varieties their flavor, but no one really knows the recipe for sure. Since its not as big of an industry, affineurs are free to brine the wheel with almost anything they like during the aging process. I'm sure there are some key elements that they all include in their recipe, but - like they kept pointing out in the official Appenzellerland literature - that's all a secret.
About twenty people, almost all men, stood at a balcony looking down on the operation inside. It must be strange to go about your work and have people staring down at you. This stage of cheese making always seems so unappetizingly processed to me, conjuring imaged of plastic wrapped blocks at the Shop Rite. Then I think of the cheesemakers coming in to pick up their wheels and then bringing them back to their own caves on their own farms to prepare in their own special way, using a family recipe passed down for generations.
The cheese dates back at least 700 years and the Stein dairy attempted to illustrate this point by placing a golden wheel of Appenzeller on a stand inside a traditional farm room recreation. It was a little bizarre and I think their lawn art was better. What made this dairy more fun than the one in Gruyères, to me, was the smell. It's really pungent and just makes our hearts go pitter patter. In fact, at dinner just the night before, a group of four dined on Appenzeller fondue and we almost caved and ordered our own. "One fondue is enough," we reasoned - the ones in Gruyères all those days ago will have to suffice.
Instead, we bought a sliver, knowing full well that a wedge will be served with our breakfast tomorrow, just as it was this morning. We chose "Extra," as opposed to "Classic" or "Surchoix." We also tried a super aged one that crumbled like an old roomano and had an incredibly sharp, sour taste. Grated on top of a soup, it probably would be delicious, but its spicyness was pretty overwhelming on its own. Sadly, the heat ruined our little cheese portion and we were forced - simply forced - to order an Appenzeller fondue for dinner. It was much more flavorful than the Gruyère variety and we enjoyed it a lot more. Fondue was our first Swiss meal and our last. A proper bookend, we think.

The Berggasthaus Experience

A "berggasthaus" is a Swiss mountain inn, a place to stay on the hiking trail, a restaurant and rooming-house for the muddy-footed. We recently took a two-night, three day hike in the Appenzell mountains in the far eastern reaches of Switzerland, staying and eating at two of these establishments and loving every minute of it.
It's easy to do these kind of trips because there's so little to bring. Although many of them - including these two - are reachable only on foot, they are real havens in the wilderness. One can expect to find towels, clean sheets on the beds, water and a hot, home cooked meal. This means that it's not necessary to bring big, heavy rucksacks. We got by with light day packs, and still probably overpacked.

Above is the first place we stayed, the Berghaus Seealpsee, on lake Seealpsee (translation: "Lake-alp-lake"), high up a narrow, cliff-sided valley. It sits at a fairly easy point to reach, about one hour by foot from the lower parking lot. We took a more difficult route, but were still at the door in about an hour and a half.
It's a pleasant place, with a nice patio on which to take in the afternoon sun and drink Appenzell hard cider, called "Apfelsaft." I would probably call the water a pond, rather than a lake, but it's still extraordinary that it's here at all. The waters were crowded with duckweed and less clear than might be expected, but reflected the mountains in the glancing light and seemed full of trout. A lot of people come up here just to fish, and dinner at the inn featured a number of "forelle" preparations.
Breakfast was ample but simple - a big pot of coffee for every table, lots of bread and müsli and a general clomping of hiking shoes as people began to get ready for the trails ahead.
Our next stop was something of a mystery for us before we reached it. From the valley below, Meglisalp didn't seem possible. The map showed a berggasthaus in a spot that looked, from the lower vantage point, to be nothing but cliff. A trail marker led us onward, though, and up a tiny cleft in the rock. We scrambled up a narrow ledge and through a series of dizzying switchbacks, clutching at a cable that was anchored to the sheer mountainside and offered little comfort. At last, after climbing up nearly three hundred feet, we emerged onto a hidden plateau, bordered on three sides by steep ridges and by an unscalable drop on the fourth. Here, hidden completely in the folds of the mountains, was the hamlet of Meglisalp, the entirety of which is shown in the above picture.
Despite its remote location, the gasthaus was almost completely booked for the night. We got the last room, though there were still beds in the dormitory. Most of these inns have places in a separate building for hikers who are looking only for a bunk and a blanket. Our room was outfitted with a few washbasins and pitchers of water, and a bucket for the wastewater. The whole inn was being renovated, and our room had the gleam and smell of new softwood.
Berggasthaus Meglisalp was built in the 1890's from material carried up on the backs of the men who founded it. The current proprietors are the fifth generation of innkeepers here, and the place feels like it's been forgotten about for a century. The buildings around it are farmhouses, where herdspeople come later in the summer with their livestock.

This picture was taken from the crest of one ridge, where we hiked in the afternoon. There is still a good amount of snow in the higher pockets of these mountains, and we walked across blindingly-white snowfields in our shirtsleeves.
Back at the inn, we drank beer, Apfelsaft and Appenzellbitter - a sweet, herbaceous, local liquor - on the back lawn, surrounded by other hikers waiting for the sun to go down. It went behind the peaks quickly, but, as has been the case in Switzerland, it stayed light for hours after the sun was gone.

It doesn't stay warm, though, and the minute the sun set everyone decamped for the dining room. We ate beef and rösti (a hashbrown-like, Swiss national dish) at communal tables, while around us people told stories of wobbling legs and summits conquered.

Milchautomat

Since we can't possibly carry 50 countries worth of reference books around with us (and we do not, will not, cannot own kindles, ipads or iphones), we have developed a habit of having book after book shipped home during one block of travel to be picked up before the next. Last time we were in America, a stack awaited us in Vermont, where Merlin's father had flipped through Swiss Mountain Inns. "You have to let me know if you come across a self-service milk machine" he told us (paraphrased). Well, when we saw the sign above on the side of the road, we knew we had to make a U-Turn and check it out.
A few feet further was the next signpost, reading "LUST AUF MILCH?" It's amazing how readable German seems sometimes. We parked across the way and began to walk along the edge of the road. I brought my Klean Kanteen, so that we could maybe fill it up with milk just to see how it all works. Being as it was about 70degrees, neither of us were terribly in the mood (cue scene from Anchorman), but we also needed to be prepared to take advantage of any opportunity that arose.
After poking around someone's property, we found the milchautomat. Its design wasn't particularly subtle and we ran around to check out its innards.
Sadly, the marker board alerted us that milk was only available about five. Kudos to them for keeping things fresh - and for providing some paper towel to keep things clean as well. The machine itself was smaller than I was expecting, with a small spout that hung from the bottom. It had a start button as well as a stop button. Prices were only by the liter, so it seems smart that they'd give someone the option of paying that minimum, but ending things sooner. Also, I imagine that some people fill multiple small bottles. The machine was a Brunimat, the Swiss brand that first introduced milk vending machines to Europe in 1994. Apparently, they also have milkshake machines- a much more welcome concept on a warm pre-summer day.

Lake Uri

In German, it's called "Vierwaldstättersee," or, "Lake of the Four Forested Cantons." Lake Lucerne (or, if you prefer, Lake Luzern), is a complicated, twisting canyon landscape with many deep branches and points. Though it's all one body of water, the locals call each of the different sections by a different name. There's the Buochser See, the Küssnachter See, the Alpnacher See and the Urner See. We spent two nights in Brunnen, camping by the waters of the Urner bay, which, in English, is called Lake Uri. It is a pretty, quiet part of central Switzerland, with a long and important history. These are the waters by which the Swiss Confederation was founded and on which William Tell sailed. It is here that the modern nation was born and where the canton of Schwyz - the namesake of Switzerland - rises up in forested hills.
Despite all of its history, Lake Uri is much quieter than the other, more westerly branches of Lucerne. Brunnen, where we stayed, is the largest town, but isn't all that big. We spent both days here hiking around the Swiss Trail, which stretches from Brunnen all the way to Rütli, which sits remote and misty at the point where Uri meets the Buochser See. Along the way, we passed through most of the little towns on the water. Some were actual villages, having a few cafes and churches. Some were little more than a ferry dock and two or three houses. Sisikon, where we stopped walking the first day, was one of the smaller towns. We waited at the dock for the boat, content in the sunshine. We were the only passengers getting on or off there, and were amusing to the ferry's crew.
Legend has it that William Tell, who was being taken across the lake to be executed after insulting the governor, was caught up in a storm. Fearing that the boat would capsize, his guards released Tell - who was renowned as a sailer as much as he was a marksman - to help them pilot the craft to safety. When they reached shore, however, Tell leaped onto the rocks and pushed the boat back out into the waves and wind.

Tell is a very famous figure here, with statues, shrines and streets bearing his likeness and name. Much of the mythology surrounding him was created - or exaggerated - by Friedrich Schiller, and the playwright is nearly as famous as his subject. There is even a gold inscription on a thirty foot high, natural obelisk in the lake that is dedicated to the writer.

The more salient historical points surrounding the lake, however, have to do with the founding of the Swiss confederation, which was signed into effect in 1291 here in Schwyz. The original cantons of Uri, Schwyz and Unterwalden formed an alliance that was ultimately joined by the other five lake cantons, and then, gradually, by the rest of Switzerland. The spot where the document was signed is not far from the lakeshore, and is popular with tourists - we didn't visit, but we saw a lot of people going there on the ferry.
On the trail, high up above the waters in the alpine meadows, it's easy to imagine that nothing has changed here since the 13th century. The farmhouses are ancient, people still mow and turn their hay by hand and the plunking of cowbells is the only sound of civilization. The mountains, of course, are ancient and at the tip of the bay they rise steep and snowy.
The view from the campsite was tremendous, and we fell asleep listening to the lapping of wavelets and the distant churning of ferry engines. To the left, here, are the lights of Brunnen proper, and the entrance to Uri beyond.

The German - Swiss Link

For our two weeks in Switzerland, we decided to mostly focus on the German-speaking regions of the country, as opposed to the Italian or French. Having just spent 6 weeks in Italy/Vatican City/San Marino and knowing that we have a month in France/Monaco this Autumn, we figured it would be the best use of our time. Obviously, Switzerland is very Swiss, but it surprised me just how strong the Germanic influence is. Case and point: the WurstFest, which advertised itself with the tagline "All wurst or what?"
The 1st Annual Sausage Festival was taking place in Luzern during our visit. To be fair, it would have been difficult to miss the fest, as it stretches from April 15 - September 11 of this year. We discovered the news on a visit to the History Museum, which wasn't so much a history museum as a collection of odds and ends, artifacts and collectibles with barely any rhyme, reason or explanation. When I saw the above display in a glass case, I thought it was simply an arrangement of stones - until I realized that the long cylindrical ones at the center were actually sausages! Just like that, my interest in Wurst Fest was sparked.
The dedicated exhibit was definitely the highlight of our visit. A collection of wurst-inspired artwork filled a large pink room with "salami slice" rugs scattered about. At the center was a young man behind a counter cutting up samples. The enormous wiener in the photo showed videos of the link making process and the photos strung up on black paper were beautiful portraits of sausage-makers displaying their products. A mural that included Lady Gaga in her meat dress hung on a wall next to a group of heads created papier-mâché-style from sausage casings.
The work ranged from informative to whimsical to beautiful to just plain fun. These two boys spent at least ten minutes pushing these hot dogs around. Their mother seemed a little dismayed that their direction was being diverted from the permanent collection surrounding them. Though, again, I'm not sure how much knowledge about Swiss history they would have derived from the old ski boot display.
Visitors were invited to leave a piece of sausage art of their own. I thought that the wurst with swiss cheese holes was particularly inspired.
Of course, the best interactive elements of the festival were found outside the museum walls. You could sign up for a sausage making lesson at a local butcher or attend one of the themed theater events. We simply went right next door to the attached cafe for our free wurst plates. We'd already had lunch, but the woman at the museum insisted we take advantage of the complimentary sampler which came with our entrance ticket. Merlin reported that the yellow link, hidden below the others in this photo, was his favorite. Its flavor: cheese. It was served with two varieties of Thomy mustard ( a sponsor of the festival ) some salad and a beer. When informed that I didn't eat meat and didn't particularly like beer, the waitress gave me a truly pitying look and then supplemented a large salad and glass of wine completely free of charge.

Swiss Chocolate

Switzerland, to people with a certain gustatory proclivity, must seem like heaven. There is chocolate everywhere, and much of it is supposed to be of the highest quality. Unfortunately for our readers, Rebecca and I aren't big chocolate eaters. We don't dislike it, we eat it, but it isn't an obsession for us the way it is for some people. That means we aren't going to gush about Swiss chocolate at length, and this post will be mostly about how funny some of these wrappers are. Above, the funniest. It was actually quite good. The firm, dense filling made us wonder aloud about how many tons of hazelnuts must be imported every year.
Swiss chocolate is big business, of course, and not just the export market - Swiss people reportedly eat more chocolate than anyone else in the world. I'm not sure if that's true, though, or if tourists in Switzerland just buy a huge amount. In every town center of sufficient size, it seems, there's a bustling candy store. This was the packaged and bar chocolate corner of a large chocolatier in Luzern. The Swiss produce about 150,000 tons of this stuff a year.
One of our favorites was actually this friendly looking bar from a supermarket bin in Bern. It was full of honey nougat, which stuck to our teeth in a great way. The bear was printed on the chocolate too, though more crudely and with a strange, brown leer. Most of this had to be reconstituted in front of the air-conditioning duct in our car after it had been left for a few days in the hot glove compartment.
A more unsatisfying bar, with branding that seems suspicious. It wasn't all that good, despite having a (dubious?) pedigree and bits of cornflake in it. We noticed, too late, the caffeine part of the label. It was eaten a little too late in the afternoon for me - I usually don't drink coffee past one o'clock.
A strange one. I'm not sure why the note about banana-pulp is in English. Also, I'm not sure that they were telling the truth. It was a light, fake-bannana-flavored choco-chew. Not bad, but more perplexing than satisfying.

Finally, our favorite. A curious fact: Ovaltine, the name, is actually a result of a misspelling of Ovomaltine in the British trade registry. The original company was founded in Bern, where it is still produced, and the name has remained Ovomaltine here in Switzerland. Besides the powdered malt-whey drink, the brand also produces a popular chocolate bar. It is crunchy with malt shavings, not too sweet, very creamy and delicious.