Tell You About Lucerne

Not sure why, but I had always held a romantic notion about Lucerne. I wasn’t disappointed. Here, gastronomy equalled chocolate, but this is the centre of the folklore that has built up around William Tell, his petrified son, and the apple.

On arriving in the town, and you must realise that this is only me, it reminded me of Bruges in Belgium. Our tour guide for the day, he had been with us since first thing, provided us with a wonderful walk through the old part of the town.

Prior to this visit I had never been to Lucerne, in fact had never been to Switzerland, so everything retold here is as a result of what we gleaned on our stroll around the country’s most beautiful city, with a little bit of enhancement from our favourite search engine.

In my humble opinion there were two main highlights, apart from the chocolate that is, The first of these, and right in your face from the moment we descended the coach steps, was the historically important covered walking bridge, built across the Reuss River, Kapellbrucke, Chapel Bridge, which was constructed in the fourteenth century, most of which is still in use today. I say most of it because it was devastated by fire in the 1990s and, as we saw firsthand, has been fabulously restored to its original glory, even going as far as recreating some of the incredible artworks that adorn the internal surfaces depicting scenes from the bible.

The bridge formed part of an important investment in the civil engineering project that helped with the defence of the city, linking the right and left banks of the Reuss. Prior to its installation it took an age to get across, not great if you had enemy bowmen right up your rear. The local councillors were most concerned that an attack could be launched from the lake, sharing the same name, to the south. It was certainly worth the second viewing on our own without being rushed through at the guide’s rate.

For your information, and mine for that matter, the Reuss rises in the Gotthard area of the Swiss Alps, now the location of the world’s longest tunnel, see last week’s episode, specifically near the Furka Pass, don’t try and say that after a pint or three, before emptying out into Lake Lucerne, before it continues its journey to the Rhine, are, there’s the link to the cruise, via the Arre River. I was blown over that the water we were looking at flowing under the Kapellbrucke would eventually end up in the North Sea, somewhat sullied by the journey.

We wandered through the cobblestone streets until we chanced across the cathedral, dedicated to the city’s patron saint, Leodegar. It is a stunning construction complete with twin towers and is ornately finished internally with white stone.

Famously, within Switzerland at any rate, St Leodegar boasts a very large organ, apparently over 7,000 pipes. We might not have got inside to see this amazing instrument but, instead, settled for some lovely accordion playing on the riverbank just outside the front door. It was most pleasant to stand and listen to traditional tunes filling the square, I nearly broke into a foot tap. Not quite sure where the Okey Cokey fits into their historic timeline?

Before being let loose around the streets our guide told us of the origins of one of the most famous confectionery brands in the world.

It goes like this: Once upon a time, a childless pharmacist’s assistant was motivated by the high infant mortality rate sweeping Europe in the mid-nineteenth century, so, together with his wife, they started to work on developing a form of milk that would adequately work as a substitute for a mother’s breast milk, during a time when women of a higher socio-class considered it beneath themselves to feed their own babies as nature intended, leading to many unnecessary deaths.

In the end, they got it right, mixing the precise measures of cows’ milk, malt and sugar with genetically modified wheat flour, with the acid and starch removed, thanks to his friend, human nutrition scientist, Jean Balthasar-Schnetzler, producing an easy to feed product that only needed boiling prior to administering to the hungry babes in arms.

During the manufacturing process all the constituent parts were thrown together and heated up, thus reducing the liquid, to produce a gooey viscose mix. Another word for reduce is condense. Have you got there yet? For those of you who haven’t,, despite originally being called flour milk, it is more widely known as condensed milk.

Now, a few miles away, a fella, by the name of Daniel Peter, a chocolatier by profession, before we even knew that making chocolate was a profession, had been working on a method to make solid blocks of the confection, but with no luck. He had been trying for seven years before he came across that newfangled condensed milk stuff. Time to go and meet the scientist.

“Hello,” said Daniel. “My name is Daniel Peter and thanks to that stuff of yours I have made solid milk chocolate.”

“Ah, hello. I think we can do business,” said the scientist. “By the way, my name is Henri Nestle.”

And I think the rest, as they say, is history. Thank goodness old Heinrich, as he was called in his native Germany, didn’t follow the rest of his family into the glazing trade. Where would we be now? Isn’t that a smashing story!

After that, we were on our own. Remember, gastronomy is the name of the tour, so it was only natural to go through the portals of one of the largest chocolate shops I have ever seen, if not the biggest. It would be about twenty years ago now that a chocolate shop would have kept me busy for hours on end, costing me a small fortune, but I have now ditched that addiction along with many others.

If you stroll along a confectionery aisle in a British supermarket you might come across five or six variants of Lindt, but here, the variations were endless, probably hundreds. We felt obliged to purchase a bar, between us not each, which we took outside and nibbled on in the square, watching, and in my case listening to, the world go by. Wonderful, even if the eyes were getting a wee bit heavy.

A long time on a bus, looking around the sights and a few cups of coffee means that a widdle was now required. The toilets were located in a nearby department store, each shop has to provide free of charge facilities to the general public, so we went off in search of them. On locating the accessible toilet. No big surprise, it was locked, what is that about, it happens far too often? Jane went off in search of someone with a key. None of the staff on that floor knew where it could be found; typical! This behaviour has to stop.

A man, realising my predicament, very kindly offered to escort me to the Gents. He took me by both hands, walking backwards and peering over his shoulder to avoid hazards, and took me right up to the urinal. He stood so close, I actually thought he was going to undo my zip, hook out Percy, and point him at the porcelain. Fortunately, he didn’t, but he did stand at my shoulder as I performed. He allowed me to do up my zip before taking me by both hands again and leading me to the basin.

He pushed the soap dispenser button and rubbed it in my hand. On completion of my ablutions, he took me by the hands again, didn’t bother washing his own, and reversed me back to Jane. Thank you, but you didn’t wash your own hands at all. What’s that about? I know I should be grateful for such acts of kindness, but sometimes they cross the line a little.

Now, last but certainly not least, a bit about William Tell. In all honesty, I was not that familiar with this Swiss legend, up there with chocolate and cheese, other than Rossini’s opera of the same name.

Most of us are very familiar with the overture, subsequently adopted as the theme tune for the TV series, “The Lone Ranger.” In a way, Tell was a bit of a lone wolf as well so maybe the producers had done their research. There are stark similarities between the Swiss bow-wielding hero and our own Robin Hood who, incidentally, lived a hundred years before Tell, but I’m not accusing the Swiss of plagiarism, oh no.

Let’s take a look, shall we? There was an evil administrator, a geezer called Gessler, the Sheriff, in a town named Altdorf, Nottingham, ordered that a hat be placed on a pole in the market place and everyone had to bow to it as a demonstration of their submission to the ruling Hapsburgs, King John.

Quite frankly, and who can blame him, old Bill thought it a ridiculous thing to do, and who knows, may have felt a little self-conscious bowing to a hat, I certainly would have. Gessler was so angry at this that he ordered Tell arrested and executed, no mention of a trial, they didn’t mess about in those days.

The people were furious so Gessler relented and commuted the sentence to a shooting competition. He would have an apple placed on the head of Walter Tell, the son, and if William could shoot the bit of fruit from his son’s head he could go free.

When listening to the tale being told I did wonder if my own son would have as much trust in me as Walter did in William, I suspect he might think twice about the proposition and march me to the gallows himself!

Cunning old William had concealed a second bolt, it was a crossbow as opposed to Hood’s longbow, about his person. When it was discovered, Gessler asked what it was for. This next bit tests the bounds of credibility slightly. He informed the full-of-himself official that if he had missed the apple the second bolt was for Gessler himself. Why! So, he was then sentenced to death again. Pretty stupid or what!

Once again the people stamped their feet so the sentence was this time commuted to imprisonment. As Tell was being transported, across Lake Lucerne, to his cell, a huge storm blew up, threatening to overturn the boat and drown all on board.

Gessler, demanded that there must be someone on the boat who could take them safely back to shore. There was. Guess who? Yep, it was none other than William Tell. He was, therefore, unshackled, before steering them back to dry land, where he ran off.

Gessler was angry, after all he had been so fair, and took off after him. Tell, still having hold of his crossbow and the second bolt, a slight weak point of the tale, turned and shot the Hapsburgs’ representative dead. After that, he got together with a few other like-minded men and a rebellion was started. It took about three hundred years before the Hapsburgs were sent packing. That is why William Tell is so important to the Swiss. Can’t find any evidence of Walter ever speaking to his father again.

Find Out More
Lucerne: www.luzern.com

White Cane Ratings
Lucerne: good – broad walkways but some steps 🦯 🦯 🦯 (3)*

*A note of caution: Kapellbrucke can be very busy.

Loch Neaton Parkrun

Nik and Jane and me were on the road again. Yeah, it looks like we went to Scotland. No, no, no, we didn’t. In actual fact, we only journeyed 23km to this event.

This time we will start with a little history, a combination of what the volunteers told us and what was unearthed on the net. It does sound wonderfully Celtic in origin doesn’t it.

Well, there is a bit of a Caledonian link. When the local railway line was being constructed they imported a load of pick wielding Picts to carve out the hard yards. A huge embankment was needed to carry a railway extension over low-lying land from Watton, the true home of this parkrun, to Swaffham.

The embankment, approximately one mile long, was constructed using ballast from two areas close by, one, pretty soon, filled up with water from the River Wissey, whilst the other remained dry. Local businessmen soon saw the opportunity to turn the area into a leisure park, all rather late nineteenth century, with a band stand for concerts, swimming, boating and fishing in the newly created lake, with paths for the well-to-do to promenade along the water’s edge.

Skating even took place during hard winters. Tennis courts were laid, four in total, one each for men, women, boys and girls; heaven forbid that mixed doubles would be encouraged, imagine the temptation? And of course, don’t forget the lawn bowls green, but no mention of whether mixed bowls was permitted!

What to call it? As a tribute to the origin of the labourers employed on the project they pinched the word “loch” from north of the border and Neaton comes from the small hamlet on the edge of the main village.

Alas, many of the facilities have long since gone thanks to the infamous Dr Beeching who recommended the closure of The Crab and Winkle Line in his savage cuts to the steel road infrastructure of the nation that gave to the world the railways.

It appears that the kilt wearing hordes from up north are a little sniffy about Neaton, loch is a Gaelic word meaning lake which should only be used in Gaelic speaking areas and, unbeknown to me, Norfolk wasn’t Gaelic speaking! Well, there’s something none of us knew!

And as for the title Doctor, as in Richard Beeching of that type, he clearly didn’t get the memo that doctors were meant to make things better not worse. Dick by name and all that sort of thing!

The event itself doesn’t, in the first instant, sound that appealing as it wends its way around sports fields three times. How wrong I was, though, it is a truly delightful experience.

Jane and I met Nik in the car park and wandered towards the start together, where we were, once again, treated like Royalty, albeit without the red carpet.

This, by absolute fluke on our part, was Loch Neaton’s 250th event, well done them, and in all that time I was their first seriously visually impaired participant. The run takes us along a mixed terrain surface at the beginning before we come out onto the extremely well maintained sports fields, including hockey and football, for the main bulk of the run or walk.

There is one slightly problematic bit where there is quite a bit of loose gravel in the middle of a sharp left and sharp right hand corner, otherwise it is as straightforward as it goes. One hill that seems pretty innocuous on the first lap takes on Stanserhorn proportions by the third.

If I had remembered to double tie the bows in my shoe laces I would have achieved a second PB in as many weeks, but I didn’t. No one else to blame.

A most fantastic community hall and bar played host to us afterwards for rather lovely coffee and cake. I very bravely, and with much sacrifice on my part, took on the role of a knight in shining armour, saving the barmaid, Emma, from a fate worse than death; she had been eyeing up the last chocolate and coconut flapjack, so I stepped in and took it right from under her nose. It even boasted a conservatory, which was about the right temperature to cool down after our exertions.

It was so good that it didn’t take long in the car park afterwards to decide we would return the following week, whether they want us back or not.

White Cane Ratings*
Car Park: very good; free - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 (4)
Welcome and Briefing: very good; friendly, informative and enthusiastic - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 (4)
Atmosphere: very good - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 (4)
Course: good; mixed terrain, mainly grass - 🦯 🦯 🦯 (3)
Marshalling: very good; - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 (4)
*These ratings are how the event suits a blind person, and are my opinion only; they are not scientific. Whatever happens no-one must be put off by me. The best way to learn about something is try it for yourself.