The Glacier Express – Train Ride through the Swiss Alps
Passing through some of the most stunning landscapes in Europe, the Glacier Express was recently listed in the top 20 train rides by the Society of International Railway Travelers. Numerous other surveys have placed it in the top ten.
At an average of only 22 miles per hour, calling her an “express” is just a bit misleading. On the other hand, you have ample time to relish every moment.
To make the most of my Alpine journey, I made a reservation on one of the special panorama cars available on the Glacier Express. Prior to my adventure on this famous train, I spent two rainy days in Lucerne, walking the wooden bridges, silently pondering the dying lion monument and photographing the medieval buildings in the old town.
Because I started out in Lucerne, I had to make my way to Zermatt to board the Glacier Express. I was understandably concerned when I found my route by rail from Lucerne to Zermatt required three changes of train. The second change allotted only a meager four minutes to disembark and find the right connection.
The friendly assistant at the information desk assured me the computer wouldn’t spit out that particular itinerary, if the train changes were not humanly possible, so I went forth on faith. It is ever thus with travel…
One should trust computers, as I learned. At that stop we arrived one minute early and I rejoiced! I had gained an additional 60 seconds to find my train! With relief, I noted the small station only had four tracks. I hopped off, backpack in place, walked 16 paces give or take a step, and boarded the correct train with a full minute to spare.
My three train changes went smoothly, but I was eager to arrive in Zermatt. As it turned out, I would follow the same route, only in the opposite direction on the Glacier Express.
As you can easily tell from any Swiss map, this village is the end of the line, unless you’re a serious climber. From there, the only direction is up, way up, or back down again by rail.
Because of its high altitude and precarious position in the Alps, Zermatt is an inaccessible city, but that’s part of the charm … no automobiles. Cars must be left behind in another small village down below. Oversized golf carts are available for toting luggage, as well as horse-drawn carriages for atmosphere. The air is cleaner; the evening twilight blissfully calm.
Whether at the beginning or end of a ride on the Glacier Express, you should allow time to stroll Zermatt. The flower boxes alone were worth the trip. Besides the abundant flowers, it’s true main attraction is the Matterhorn, that haughty jagged peak, one of the last Alps to be conquered by man.
The small English church and cemetery in Zermatt make a worthwhile stop. The memorials to climbers who lost their personal battle against the mountain are thought-provoking. How difficult it must be, especially to your loved ones, to have an avocation so hazardous. Two climbers were lost in 1959 and not found again for 30 years, at least according to the epitaph on their memorial.
The Glacier Express pulled out of the station right on time, to the minute.
Eight hours on a train may sound lengthy to some, but I can truthfully say I enjoyed every moment.
There’s a reason the Glacier Express has the reputation as one of the most picturesque train trips in the world. You simply can’t take your eyes away from the passing landscape, more like an artfully touched-up postcard than reality.
The ride requires all your concentration not to oooo and aaaah, out loud, as you emerge from a dark tunnel and suddenly come face to face with the glory of the Alps. Those less inhibited than myself held nothing back and ooooed to their hearts content. I’ll admit I did aaaah once or twice.
The panorama cars on the Glacier Express have extra large windows and a horizontal window overhead to capture the entire scene from top to bottom.
With typical Swiss efficiency, they make sure no dead bug dare besmirch their sparkling clear glass.
Can one ever grow tired of seeing chalets with huge window boxes overflowing in yellow blossoms, or villages nestled between two mountains, where the tallest structure isn’t a skyscraper but a church steeple?
Contented cows, wearing their bells of course, languidly chew and watch the passing action, caring little of bright red trains and even less of foreign tourists. And always hovering above, are the white, dreamlike peaks reaching for the sky, an enticement some can’t resist.
After this trip, I can fully understand the term, rushing mountain streams. We seemed to pass at least a dozen of them, all in a mad torrent to reach their final destination, somewhere down the valley. The water was a shade unlike I’ve seen before, a rich, translucent light blue with a hint of green.
I had to laugh at the mountain goats (also wearing bells) huddled closely together atop a small outcropping of rock, about six feet high. Even though they had an entire pasture to graze, still abundantly green in October, mother nature dictated they should climb rocks and climb they would!
Though my train car wasn’t full, I counted four languages and one thick accent from “down under.”
Realizing we all came together from points around the world to experience this train ride was oddly reassuring.
We may have our differences, but we all marvel at the architecture of mother earth, regardless of whether we live in Spain, Japan, Australia, Germany or the United States. It’s also heartening to know there are unspoiled places where no developer would dare cast his sights.
The 15 of us formed a travelers’ fellowship of a sort, smiling and clicking photos, with practically no need for the spoken word.
One family with young children began counting the tunnels, quite loudly in German, I think. But with 91 tunnels together, I was hoping they’d soon give up. They stopped after eight. Thank God they didn’t count the bridges we crossed; there were a remarkable 291 of them!
The day passed more swiftly than I could have imagined. My only regret was that none of my loved ones were along to experience this extraordinary journey. I realize now it would have been much better shared.
It was nearly 5 p.m. when we reached St. Moritz, and heavy mist was settling over the lake, obscuring the mountain peaks. More rain was definitely on the way. I preferred Zermatt to the more pretentious St. Moritz.
In the summer months the Glacier Express is always full, but in October the tourist numbers fall off a bit. The weather was dicey too – light mist fell every day of my visit – but the temperatures stayed in the upper 40s. On the positive side, accommodations in every price range were easy to find, without advance reservations.
If you plan to ride the full eight hours, you must make reservations, especially if you want a seat on the panorama cars.
A sit-down lunch can also be reserved. Another lunch option is the snack trolley, which makes several passes throughout the day.
