Well then, after yesterday's short break, the journey continues. I arrive in Meierskappel shortly before half past nine, and say hello to the first Panorama signpost. I feel as if I'm meeting an old friend.
The route, as explained in yesterday's description, is shorter by about 10 kilometers. It means that I am again looking forward to a great day with once again the best weather imaginable.
And here are the changed keypoints of the route:
Length: approx. 20 km, ascent | Descent: 760 m | 740 m, hiking time: between 6 and 7 hours
The bluest sky ever
The trail continues as I left off the day before yesterday - with blue skies and pleasant temperatures. Meierskappel, like many other villages on the way, is completely unknown to me. Apparently there have been efforts to move the village to nearby Canton Zug. Guess why. Because of the much lower taxes there, of course.
The path heads into the countryside shortly after the bus stop, up the long range of hills, along flowering meadows and gardens. The valley remains beneath me, somewhere down there is Koller's farm in Feissenacher. That would have been another overnight stay on a farm, but not on straw as in Hinterwiden. I regret that a bit, however, I would have had to take the road to Udligenswil instead of these great hills.
So all is (was) well (so were the last words in the Harry Potter story).
St. Michael's Cross and Chapel
One of the farms to be passed was apparently fed up with all the hikers and bikers, as the original route led almost through the kitchen of the farm. Now the trail passes at a respectful distance and then climbs up a steep meadow. To alleviate the effort somewhat, the farmer - perhaps with a guilty conscience - created a kind of wood chip jogging trail. However, this does not make the path any less steep. My heavy backpack makes itself felt and I puff at the top of the road like a perforated bellows.
A biker climbs the slope even a bit more puffing than I did. He is no longer young, and his face has taken on an unhealthy red color. "You okay?" I ask mischievously, unable to hide a grin. A little bit of revenge on all those bikers who annoy us hikers every now and then. The biker, after recovering, turns out to be a very pleasant guy, we agree that such days, despite the jogging track, are a gift.
Shortly afterwards, I arrive on the topographical highlight of the day, the St. Michael's Cross with the associated chapel (or vice versa). And now they are suddenly all there, the bikers and hikers, cycling and hiking from all sides, all apparently with the destination of St. Michael.
It's understandable, because the view on the Zugerland and the lakes of Zug and Lucerne is breathtaking. I am at just below 800 meters, but you get the impression of being much higher. No wonder this chapel is one of the most popular wedding sites. A happy life is expecting you when you get married surrounded by such a unique view. Well, let's not talk about that...
A few bikers do the same as I do, admiring the view, taking pictures, having a sip of water and walking or riding on, towards the next slope, the next bend. But behind, far away on the horizon, the white snow-capped mountains are greeting, a crowning frame of the picture.
Fairyland
If I had to recommend just one stage, it would definitely be this one. I have to say it again and again - the slow walk through these meadows and fields no longer has much to do with hiking, it's a kind of dreamlike floating, you feel light, weightless. It reminds me of something. For once, I quote from "A Snake in the Dark":
There was something soft in the air, something floating, weightless. It seemed as if the city had put on its most beautiful face. In the sunlight, streaming in lavish abundance from the sky, it shimmered like a jewel in the heart of the wasteland.
That's exactly how it feels today.
Vancouver 8323 kilometers
Today's path is not only great in its own way, it seems to me that the whole world has put on a different face. In front of a farm - of which there are many, some of particular beauty - there is a very uncommon signpost. One you'd never expect. You might find them all over the world. But not here.
The signposts point to Kerzers, 144 km (quite close), or to Rome, 828 km, already a bit further away, then Berlin, 903 km, and Vancouver, 8323 km. But above all, they point to Bönihof, which is just around the corner.
Obviously a farm with wanderlust.
The Sound of Switzerland
A little further up, a herd of cows, peacefully chewing their cud, grazing, mooing. The cowbells, perhaps the most fitting sound that defines Switzerland. Another text comes to mind right away, author unknown:
In the midst of the exhausted passengers, the strenuous flight written all over their faces, she stared at the floor, when suddenly cowbells tinkling and polyphonic mooing started to play from the loudspeakers. To her surprise, she realized that she was happy to be returning home, to the country where she had been born and raised, but also to the country whose narrowness she had escaped time and again. This had never happened before.
Apparently her roots went deeper than expected.
Sometimes the trail leads deep into the forest, hobbit country. I wouldn't be surprised if Bilbo or Frodo or Sam and Pippin suddenly emerged from behind the trees.
Or is it Orks lurking behind the bushes, Uruk-Hai, bred by the evil wizard Saruman? But no, there are signposts, hardly known in Middle Earth, and a biker who looks nothing like an Ork.
Perhaps chicken clucking is also part of the Sound of Switzerland. Some hens taken refuge in the shade, the heat standing vertically in the air.
Farming and biting
It's obvious that the farmers use the beautiful weather to mow their meadows (finally), collect the dry hay, make provisions for the winter. I could watch them for ages, rattling and roaring down the tracks on their tractors with hay tedders hitched to them.
A hundred years ago it might not have looked much different. Instead of the tractor, perhaps a horse-drawn cart; instead of the tedder, lots of busy arms and hands.
And the farmhouses, most of them, already correspond to Lucerne's architecture. Different from what they look like in Appenzell, different from what they are going to look like in the Emmental.
An old woman is bending over her vegetable garden, I stop, exchange a few words, about the weather, the harvest, the vegetables. That's all it takes.
The farm dog, however, of course a devious Appenzeller, finds my outstretched hand, as always meant to establish a friendly contact, not funny at all and snaps. I'm lucky, his teeth just brush my hand, but I'm still a bit irritated, as being an old dog pal, I'm usually greeted very enthusiastically.
Well, everyone might have a bad day ...
Udligenswil - Adligenswil
No idea who invented these strange place names, which differ only by the initial vowel. One of the eternal mysteries of the universe.
In any case, the path leads a little later straight through Udligenswil, like its almost-named cousin further west a appendix of the Lucerne agglomeration. One lives at the countryside and at the same time in the city. Well, it's not much different in my Limmat valley.
So I hurry to escape the concrete environment as quickly as possible, the destination Lucerne is not far away.
Luzern
There is still a few kilometers to go along a golf course, but then the lake lies beneath me. The city welcomes me, with noise and bustle, I have to get used to light signals and buggies again.
The walk along the waterfront towards the center is the crowning glory of today's tour. I walk slowly, as always, firstly when I'm tired and my legs hurt, but mainly because I want to enjoy it.
Dinner in town
I have an appointment with an old friend for dinner. You rarely see each other anymore because of this stupid pandemic, so you have to seize the opportunity when you happen to be here. However, it is highly doubtful whether I will arrive in Lucerne on foot again.
Anyway, as always, there is much to chat about. The evening is warm, as it should be, but this year is obviously much different than usual. Let's enjoy it while it lasts ...
Matching Song: AC / DC - Hells Bells (instead of Cow Bells)
And here the trip continues ... to Malters
