10/10/25 I've Looked At Clouds From Both Sides Now

Most people look at mountains and dream of climbing to the top. Not so the Swiss who looked at Mt Pilatus sitting a tidy 2100m above sea level and said to themselves: "We'll build a railway up there."

"No you won't," said common sense and economics, as maintaining a safe gradient demanded an expensive length of railway.  "Yes I will," said determined mechanical engineer Edouard Locher, and off he went and invented a new cog railway system that could operate on a grade of up to 48% thereby cutting the distance in half.  Construction started in 1886 and took three years, being somewhat constrained by only being able to work during the summer months.  The Pilatus cog railway has run every May to October since, and paid its own way too.

I ditched my invalid husband for the day in order to reach the summit of Mt Pilatus, saving the railway for last and starting out with a bus to Kriens.  "Go past the church" said the lady at the Tourist Information Centre, "And follow the red signs to the cable car."

Past church: check.

Red signs: check.  See the dragon?  Once upon a time a dragon was thought to live on Mt Pilatus, and the mountain now embraces the dragon theme with enthusiasm.

The cable car trundled over the rooftops of Kriens and up over meadows of cattle and goats, all dinging and donging their bells in Swiss rhythms. 

Past Schloss Schauensee on the hill overlooking Kriens.

It wasn't long before I reached the cloud ceiling and lost the view altogether, apart from the occasional passing of ethereal upper branches from exceptionally tall pine trees.

The little cable car stopped at Fräckmünteg, and I got out to appreciate the clouds. At Fräckmünteg I could have gone tobogganing down the mountain, challenged myself on a rope course, or taken a long ride on a zip line over the abyss (not that the abyss was visible at the moment anyway).  Not being particularly interested in any of that and being keen to get to the tippy top as soon as possible,  I took a cursory look at the inside of the cloud and jumped straight onto the big gondola bound for Pilatus Kulm aka the top.

The big gondola went straight up, and then all of a sudden we popped out into sunshine and there we were floating on an ocean of cloud with faraway mountaintop islands and beside us a towering cliff patterned with folded rock from long ago geological upheavals. 

I got off the gondola and ran around in a tizz, suffering from too many choices and a fear of the clouds rising and obliterating the stunning view. Deep breaths and a piece of chocolate settled me down and off I went to the lookouts with all the more adventurous tourists. 

If  Fräckmünteg was the playground of Mt Pilatus, Pilatus Kulm was where the locals came to hike and hike they did.  Out of the clouds emerged whole families, parents festooned with babies, serious geriatrics with hiking poles, and young things with far too much energy after hiking the mere 2000 vertical metres 'up the hill'. Other groups took the easy way up and headed off on various routes out, around, and down the mountain.

Hiking trails meandered across the valley floor and up and down every hikable slope.

The less adventurous pulled out deckchairs to sit in the sun and look at mountains, and the still less so settled in to the restaurant to take their mountains with a glass of wine.

I set off to the lookouts. Roger was fortunate to be safely back down in the valley for he would surely have suffered conniptions at the amount of air beside the cliff pathways, and the questionable stability of the flimsy guard rails. Up on Mt Pilatus tourists and locals alike were entrusted with the responsibility of keeping themselves in the correct places on the mountain and exercising appropriate caution on the cliffs.

Way down below me mountain ibex lived their best lives on the scree in the sun, somehow making sleeping on rocks look comfortable.

I followed the dragon walk up along the ridge line, through a little tunnel and down steep steps to more breathtaking views:

Out on Klimsen spur stood the little white Klimsenkapelle, all that remained of the Klimsenhorn Hotel complex which existed from 1856 to 1967. Although I'm not quite sure why anyone wanted to build a hotel complex in an area subject to "extreme climatic conditions, such as gusts of wind, high rainfall, and an average annual temperature of 0.9 °C."  But it was built and now it's gone, and the Chapel remained under the care of the Klimsenhorn Chapel Foundation and was classified as an easy hike from Pilatus Kulm. Although looking at the zig zag path down to the chapel, I suspected that the Swiss definition of an 'easy' hike was a tad different from mine.

Along from the Klimsenkapelle, the gondola carried tourists back and forth to the mountain.

Back at the panorama I was just in time to enjoy some alpine horn music, quite the fitting sound track to the sweeping vistas of mountains. 

There was one last lookout to see so up the zig zag steps I went and settled in to watch the alpine choughs play in the updrafts and wait for the clouds to clear and give me a view of Lake Lucerne. 

Clouds swirled in eddies and splashed against mountains, and slowly the lake came into view and the island mountains revealed themselves to be sturdily rooted in the earth.

The lake, and to the far left Lucerne.

I stayed up there a long time watching the world below come into view, watching the sun drag shadows across the mountains as tiny hikers laboured on the slopes and silent boats traced pathways on the lake. Below me a little plane chugged across the surface of the clouds and high above me contrails chased jet engines across the sky.

Mt Titlus.

All good things come to an end, of course.  I got cold and hungry and the cog railway called my name.  This morning I was so excited to finally get my ticket that I quite forgot to buy lunch, so subsisted on a block of chocolate and cold water all day because I refused on principle to pay exhorbinant mountain prices for food.  The cog railway was my ticket back down to the world of discount food bins.

Here comes my ride.

Down we went, and alas I didn't realise there was a glass roof until I also realised I wasn't sitting under it but never mind, the windows were big enough.

Down we went, and when I thought we had run out of down we went down some more, all the way to the lake where a boat was waiting to take everyone back the length of the lake to Lucerne.  Here below the clouds the sunlight put on evening displays of light and shadow, and autumn colours marched at the edge of the water.

We stopped briefly at Stansstad, with its historic tower.

The peninsula round which I bicycled yesterday passed by, and I gave a passing nod to Schloss Meggen on the other side of the lake.  

In no time at all I was back in the Coop, rummaging for food in the 50% discount bin before heading home to confirm that Roger had indeed survied the day with only Steve for company.

I went to bed to dream of mountains sailing through cloud oceans, accompanied by a confetti of choughs and the sound of an alpine horn blowing in the distance.

Goodnight.