Sept 7 - Catheux de Chillon, Sion, and das Leukerbad

Bright and early I packed up and left my noisy little hostel (located right next to the train tracks) and started the 20 minute walk to the Chateux de Chillon.

I was fortunate enough to hit the Chateux right as it opened, and therefore was the only one in the castle along my tour route. On scale with the Alps surrounding it, the Chateux looked quite small, but inside it blossomed. The pillar on which the poet Byron engraved his name was especially powerful in terms of historuical context. It took me a solid 1.2 hours to traverse the whole complex - and that was rushed in order to make train. I'm sure it would have been very easy to spend 2+ hours there. From the Chateux, I made my way to the local train station and had the first - and likely last - experience of this kind. A train was late. In Switzerland. I couldn't believe it.

Eventually it came and carried me south from Montreux to the town of Aigle. There it ended and one had to hop a bus to the down of St. Moritz in order to get on the train to Martigny and beyond. However, due to the unfortunte happening of a trian being late, I ended up missing the bus.

Hearing some Americans converse nearby about a similar situation I inquired as to where they were headed. We were both en route to Martigny so we joined forces in trying to figure out how to get there. To our benfit, an older Canadian man was also trying to get further south and due to the blessings of him being Canadian, he fenagled a taxi on the cheap and we all hopped in.

Driving down the 15 minutes to St. Moritz I learned that the couple was from Spokane, WA. The husband, Ira, taught photography at the community college. I didn't quite catch what his wife Mya did. Regardless, we had a wonderful conversation on the way down to St. Moritz and on the ensuing train down to Martigny. There we parted ways as they headed into France to take the train around Mt. Blanc and I headed further east towards the Alps.

I made my primarz stop in the Alpine town of Sion. Expecting fantastic mountain ranges I was dissapointed to find nothing of the sort. However, I did discover that Scion had a pair of hills straddling the city centre on which sat a castle and a basilica, respectivelly.

Making my way through the town I stumbled upon a grand street market in full swing. Luckily for my wallet, I had no money and was not able to spend thousands of francs on wine, cheese, and beer.

Eventually escaping the street market, I began the uphill trek to the twin hills and the ruins on top of them. My firsz excursion was to the left, up to the remains of the Chateux de Tourbillon. The 'Lonely Planet' book said it was a rough climb and they weren't kidding. Combining the altitude with the steep cliff I was pouring sweat and very much out of breath when I finally reached the top.

The ruins were just that, ruins, with nothing but the outer foundations remaining, but the view of the basilica across the valley and thw town below were more than worth it. The view was absolutely breathtaking.

On the way down from the castle, the world got a little smaller. An elderly gentleman, likely in his 60's was quickly making his waz up the hill. I was standing and admiring the view at the steps of the castle gate and upon seeing me he stopped. He eyed me 'Stanford - Track and Field' shirt wearily and the asked...

'So you're a student at Stanford?'
'Yes, sir'
'I got my master's from Stanford'
'No kidding'

From there, we had a quick little conversation during which I learned that not only did he have a degree from Stanford but also that he had friends and had spent quite a lot of time in dinky old Olympia, WA. Small world indeed.

We parted paths and I headed up towards the basilica. From the outside it was fantastic, inside it was nothing too particular. The truly unique feature was the fact that it still had a wall in the centre that was meant to seperate the lowly folks from the elite. The pope had decreed these walls ungodly in the 17th century, but apparently the citizens of Scion resisted the decree. The church also contained the oldest playable organ in Europe which, while small, was still very impressionable.

Heading out of Scion I decided to make a stop and an excursion to Leukerbad. Leukerbad is the highest thermal spring in Europe (and I believe the world). One has to take a bus from the town to Leuk up to Leukerbad which, while being only 6 miles, takes about 45 minutes as you climb into the belly of the upper Alps. Once there - a million bath complexes vie for your attention. The town is, basically, one big spa. According to the travel guide and local advice, I went and bought a ticket at the 'Burgerbad', the biggest of the bathhouses. It was roughly $15 for 3 hours and it must have been the best $15 I ever spent.

The complex contained 10 baths, 8 of them outdoors, staring at the Alps surrounding them. They contained everything from your typical pool and hottub to a purely European occurance, the 'Tratenbad'. Translated roughly, this is the 'Walking Bath' where, if it isn't quite obivous yet, you walk. There are two oval-like circles, one with 40 degree water, the other with 140 degree water. You take turns walking circles in each in order to give a quick hot/cold treatment to your feet. I must say, it felt fantastic.

After three wonderful hours in the baths, I had to make my way back to Leuk and get on the train to Brig. From Brig I transferred north to Interlaken and finallz arrived at about 11:00pm. It was a long walk to my hostel, supposedly the most famous one in Switzerland, the Balmer's Herbage.

Basically, the reason it was famous was because it was A. Old and B. A huge frat house. Underneath it was located the biggest night club in the city and beer dispensors were scattered throughout the house. After 5 minutes in the club I realized I was far too tired to do anything and conseuqntly, passed out.


-Mark