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The Swiss Alps in July, with a Surprise Visit to Lake Maggiore, Italy FOR A WORDSMITH IT IS PERPLEXING, even irritating, to suggest that there are times when words fail. We all know those times: intense grief, overwhelming happiness, great beauty. The last is the predicament I touch on here. Place: Faulensee, Switzerland , on the Thunersee. In front of me are the magnificent mountains of the Bernese Oberland and the exquisite shadows of the setting sun over the Thunersee. Enormous green and ochre mountains ruggedly tower over and encircle the gray-green lake. The scene was primitive, even primeval, formed from an upwelling of the crashing of the continental plates against each other eons ago. The lake surface was like mother-of-pearl, with hints of blue, rose, peach, and gray, depending on the mood of the sky. As they say in Switzerland, the weather is changeable, one minute sun, the next cloudy with a hint of rain. But the Swiss also have a saying: “There is no poor weather, only poor gear.” Faulensee was not just a treat for the eyes, but also the ears. The centuries-old village church chimed the hour and the music of the bells echoed over the lake. Cows with tinkling bells grazed on the green and yellow meadows above our hotel, the Seeblick. Gulls were wheeling and mewing. A pair of swans preened their exquisite white feathers in unison. When they held their necks up, they were over three feet tall. Mallard ducks claimed their mates and made a big fuss with their quacking and honking. A paddle-wheel boat blew its horn for customers who might wish to take the lake tour. Since six a.m. that day, we had been mesmerized by Switzerland. Flying into Zurich into a rising eastern sun, we claimed our rental car and headed south to the Gotthard pass. Italy and the northern Italian lakes were the destination to see the gardens of Isola Bella and Isola Madre in Lake Maggiore. Always have a fallback plan. All the Swiss seemed to be en route to Italy, and the wait to get through the Gotthard Tunnel pass was four hours! My spouse does not wait in lines. At the last exit, we veered right at Wassen toward the Susten Pass and climbed precipitously on dozens of hairpin curves and switchbacks, with bicyclists often leading the way with their muscular legs. The mountains were awash with rivulets cascading down from glaciers. Every crevice in each mountain was gushing water. The water was white and pale green from glacial streams. Porsches and Ferraris whizzed by us on the downhill into Interlaken. We moved at a snail’s pace, stopping along the way with amazement to admire the pink, blue, yellow, and white meadow flowers. Faulensee was a perfect destination. The lake water was bracingly cold and so clear 58 Switzerland that rocks could be seen in every detail. With some hesitation we plunged in, swimming to a lone float. The swimming place was called the “Shadow” because of the high hill with beech trees that shaded it. The locals gathered here every afternoon and seemed amazed that we had found their private swimming hole. The sweet smell of smoke rose from the fire of a gaggle of Swiss youths roasting sausages. Our hotel, the Seeblick, sat directly over the green sea. That night we nestled under huge white down comforters, the window open wide to the sweet sounds of the night. Instead of “Now I lay me down to sleep,” I murmured to myself, “All’s well that ends well.” Every day is one for outdoor activity in the Bernese Oberland. There is a hiker’s paradise up every valley and wanderwege for every age and strength. We spent two nights in Kandersteg, a verdant plateau surrounded by glaciers. As we trekked up on ancient hiking paths, we were met coming and going by Swiss families. Precious babies in backpacks were sound asleep. Little girls with Heidi-type plaits were hugging close to proud fathers, while mothers walked in front with young sons. We made no time at all as my mate stopped to speak with each willing group. They seemed amazed that we were from the Vereinigten Staaten, as the German Swiss call the United States. Kandersteg is a small town with a few chalet-type hotels. Our corner room at the Victoria Ritter had two balconies with double French doors and a breathtaking view toward a glacier...

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