As lords of the castle, we expect to be served in bed, of course by servants in shiny dark blue liveries and white stockings, as befits noble lords. In doing so, they would wish us a good day while serving coffee and providing poached eggs with salmon.
Of course, we get disappointed, instead of the liveried servants, some other guests (they really exist) sneak through the house, instead of poached eggs we get plain bread with butter and jam, but only after finding the breakfast room.
Compared to yesterday, we have a pretty reasonable route ahead of us, a few kilometers extra to Rüeggisberg, but that shouldn't worry us any further. However, heavy (!) thunderstorms are predicted for late afternoon, so it might get funny.
Map: Length: 17 km, ascent | Descent: 820 m | 620 m, hiking time: 5 h 20 min
Result (to Schwarzenburg): Length: 17 km, ascent | Descent: 790 m | 820 m, hiking time: 7 h 03 min
One last look at the ice-crowned Bernese Alps, then down into the Schwarzwassergraben to the oldest concrete arch bridge in the world. From the Schwarzenburg plateau through meadows and forests to the scenic Guggershörnli with its famous Vreneli.
The charm of Switzerland
Then we set off - quite early for a change - this must be präsenile bed escape - to Rüeggisberg.
You can't help but wonder about these strange names. Riggisberg and Rüeggisberg, two villages in sight, so to speak, the only difference is an i instead of a üe in the name. Who comes up with such an idea?
Very strange, but that also defines the charm of our little country.
And of course there is the pronunciation, which might be a major problem for outsiders, i.e. non-Swiss: a village like Zäziwil is pronounced Zäziwiu, the Belpberg is called Bäupberg.
Yes, Switzerland ...
After leaving Riggisberg, we take the shortest route to Rüeggisberg, but at the price of having to walk most of the time on asphalt roads. But we accept it with hiking-like composure, after all, at our age, not much can knock us out anymore.
The Rüeggisberg Monastery
The real highlight of the day is in Rüeggisberg in the form of an old Monastery ruin.
It is a former monastery of the French Cluniac Order.
Cluny Abbey in Burgundy was one of the most influential religious centers of the Middle Ages as the starting point for important monastery reforms. Its church was at times the largest church in Christianity (Wiki).
A rather unknown order to us, as it turns out, although as former monastic students we should know about related Catholic orders.
I quote from the website:
The old walls of the Rüeggisberg monastery ruins tell a story that is almost a thousand years old. Whoever wanders through the mysterious remains of the once mighty monastery and enjoys the magnificent distant view of the Bernese Oberland, immediately feels transported back to the time of monks, friars and chorales.
In the 11th Century the rich nobleman Lütold von Rümligen donated property to the town of Cluny in the French Burgundy. A remarkable church was to be built in Rüeggisberg. From the first simple cubicles, an imposing Romanesque basilica with several adjoining buildings was built over the course of the next hundred years. Ancient foundation walls, imposing pillars and impressive arches still bear witness to the former greatness of the influential monastic order from France.
The monastery is known as the first place of residence of the French Cluniac in German-speaking Switzerland.
Unfortunately, debt, looting, raids and misappropriation clouded the glorious history of the once influential landmark of the region. And after the Reformation, the monastery church had to close its doors in the year 1484. A village fire in Rüeggisberg finally brought the once magnificent building completely down. Without further ado, the inhabitants used the building blocks of the already dilapidated monastery to rebuild their own houses and the village church. From then on, the remaining rooms served as granaries and barns.
Closed, looted, set afire and misappropriated since 1484, and yet looking at the old walls gives you an idea of the original splendor. One thinks to hear the chorales, to see the monks in black robes floating through the corridors, to smell incense and myhrre.
A mass is held in the middle of the ruins, apparently the site is still a meeting place for devout Catholics, who may feel like outsiders in this protestant region.
Alphorn players for a festive setting
And there, quite unexpectedly, muffled sounds float through the morning coming from the opposite side.
A group of traditionally dressed alphorn blowers, including several women, have lined up in a semicircle and give a serenade to the spectators. And for once - God knows I'm not a big fan of the alphorn culture - we listen in surprise and almost a bit touched.
Thunderstorm warning
The media issue a thunderstorm warning - wow! The end of the world is not yet expected until the afternoon, so no worries. It will probably not be that bad, but a queasy feeling creeps in. This year, the weather god wants to show who's the boss.
After Rüeggisberg, the Panorama Trail once again offers what we look forward to every morning - long hilly passages along flowering meadows. Sometimes the path leads down into ravines, over narrow bridges, then steeply uphill again. The sun disappears behind thickly foliated trees, a few measly rays break through, conjuring up streaks on the ground.
The river Blackwater - that's really its name - brings back memories of Middle Earth or, depending on one's taste, of the continent of Westeros in Game of Thrones. The name seems to be popular when it comes to naming a particularly treacherous water. Our river, on the other hand, looks pretty harmless; Hellfire wouldn't help much here (see excerpt).
If I'm not mistaken, the fat hobbit Bombur falls into the river Blackwater during the crossing of Mirkwood and thereupon falls into a deep sleep, whereupon the exhausted dwarf friends have to carry him.
But the Battle of Blackwater at the end of Season 2 in Game of Thrones just about beats anything in the way of naval battles. The fleet and the army of Stannis Baratheon reach King's Landing and the battle for the city begins.
Here is an excerpt (not for the faint-hearted):
But one thing is clear: even today - coming weather assaults excluded - is a magnificent representation of everything that a not even particularly sunny day has to offer. Sometimes we believe ourselves in a painting, standing still, admiring, focusing our attention on the landscape, even if at first glance it seems to be nothing special.
Sometimes the view of a farm, lying there quietly and seemingly abandoned, as if waiting for something, is enough. Then again a break on a strange wooden frame, whose purpose is not immediately clear, but we do not care. From then on, the path leads once again through man-high grass, we fight our way through, while the look now often goes to the sky, where something bad is brewing.
The thunderstorm
For once, the weather prophets are probably right, because a few kilometers off Schwarzenburg, the sky is darkening in a way that indicates the worst. The last few weeks have shown that this year's weather capers might be quite dangerous at times, especially if they are associated with hail.
And so the leisurely pace comes to an end, we have to push hard. Even during these last kilometers, we are already drawing up alternative plans, in Neu-Deutsch called contingency plans.
However, the options are quite obvious, basically there is only one, which is taking the bus to Guggisberg if the weather is getting really bad.
But so far it is okay, although at our arrival the sky hangs low and black and gloomy over Schwarzenburg. We ask around for an open restaurant, and with a little luck we find one with a covered garden space, and now wait for the coming end of the world with a cozy coffee and a chat with the neighbors.
This is indeed not long in coming, it gets still darker, heavy raindrops beat on the tarp over the seating area. We feel safe, but after half an hour the thunderstorm shows what it's all about and chases us inside the restaurant.
The bus leaves around 16.43, so we surrender to fate and let ourselves be chauffeured through the rain to Guggisberg. The view through the window is relaxed, but we realize that these remaining 12 kilometers might have been tough, and so we slowly realize that the weather has done us a favor.
The Guggershörnli
While I make myself comfortable in the room (the daily notes have been pretty much neglected), the two youngsters are still in splendid form and decide to visit the nearby famous Guggershörnli above Guggisberg.
Their subsequent description of the short trip sounds euphoric and indicates that I missed out on something. In those cases, there is no excuse, at best "in the next life."
Since I do not know anything about the Guggershörnli, I have to use alternative sources of information:
The Guggershörnli or Guggershorn is a prominent mountain above the village of Guggisberg and 12 km south of Schwarzenburg in the canton of Bern. Even from a distance, this forested mountain peak can be made out because of its characteristic shape. With the adjacent Schwendelberg to the east, the Guggershorn forms a group and a first bastion of the Pre-Alps.
The thunderstorm 2.0
And then - in fact expected and nevertheless surprising in its ferocity - the thunderstorm arrives we have been waiting for. The sky first turns gray, then darker, then quite black. Attempts to duly capture the event stop at the exact moment when the rain begins to whip against the house. Then frantic flight into the interior of the room.
By the way, we got a very unique room - two floors, connected by a steep staircase, all wood, with a balcony, one might feel at home here for a while. And the dinner - a treat after our spartan picnics.
The Guggisberg song
Today's song on the subject is very clear for once - the Guggisberg Song.
For some unknown reason, it has haunted me for days and weeks on my hike, day and night. As much as I like this song, after a while it loses its beauty and is just annoying. I have tried everything possible to replace it with other earworms, without success. Well, then let the sad story of Vreneli and Hans-Joggeli echo a bit longer.
The song Vreneli from the Guggisberg, short Guggisberglied, also called Guggisbergerlied or Altes Guggisbergerlied, is probably the oldest still known Swiss folk song. It was first mentioned 1741, the oldest preserved text variant is from 1764.
There are countless versions, in my opinion the most modern is also the best: Steff La Chef - Guggisberglied
And here the journey continues tomorrow - to the Schwarzsee
