Day 3
Another late awakening. Jill went to bed at 10:30, but Kristen and I weren’t tired. I was reading in bed, sat up, and Kristen called from the other room at 11 PM “Dad, whatcha dong?”, so we both continued reading – K till 1, dad till about 2.
Up at 9 (girls) and 10 (dad), watched the occasional drizzle fall, has croissants for breakfast,. Miss K watched a little Fantasia 2000 on DVD (since we have only 2 TV channels), and we left before 12.
Destination Gstaad, where we arrived before 12 and after paying to park with the help of a nice German-speaking girl (fluent in English, of course), walked onto the main street to hear the church bells chime 12.
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One can almost imagine the place in the snow, with rich Eurotrash schussing down Main Street to the nearest ski lift. But even with the Eurotrash mostly absent, this still seems to be a rich resort town where no one really lives anymore.
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We strode down the street looking for a place to eat and pretty much ignoring Hermes, Louis Vuitton, etc. The town looked like the home of the $150 lunch, but we found the “Apple Pie”, a nice homey pizza / sandwich / crepe place where we had a very tasty thin crust pizza lunch (Margherita and Chasseur (hunter) – mushroom), for about $50, a bargain. Miss K had chocolate ice cream and Dave a huge thick wedge of the warm namesake apple pie for dessert. Yum. Burp.
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Les Diablerets
Past Feutersoey, where we had hoped to find an antique store that sells old cowbells, but didn’t see it. Over the Col de Pilon and into Les Diablarets, a low-key ski town nestled at the bottom of several massive mountains.
Parked, walked across a glacial-melt creek via a brand new covered bridge, and explored the town. Found a little antique / curiosity shop run by an old guy who makes all sorts of stuff – crafts, tables, chairs, etc. His tiny shop held a collection of antique cowbells, ad we rang them all and selected a 150CHF model that looks like it was worn for about 50 years. It’s about 7” wide with an old wide leather belt.
Parked, walked across a glacial-melt creek via a brand new covered bridge, and explored the town. Found a little antique / curiosity shop run by an old guy who makes all sorts of stuff – crafts, tables, chairs, etc. His tiny shop held a collection of antique cowbells, ad we rang them all and selected a 150CHF model that looks like it was worn for about 50 years. It’s about 7” wide with an old wide leather belt.
Monsieur explained to me in French that it was cheaper than some of the smaller bells because it had been repaired long ago and didn’t ring true. That’s ok by me, I think it lends character. It is from “50 years ago, before the war”. Monsieur showed me the maker’s logo and said “He’s dead”. I’m very pleased with my French and it was fun having an extended conversation with him. I should have gotten his picture.
Oh yeah, forgot that we got a hat and tee shirt in the Gstaad tourist office, from a nice girl who also gave us some tourism info.
Stopped for groceries on he way out of town, then headed over the Col De Pilon, where – guess what – the sun started shining!
At the top of the Col there was a farmhouse with a sign that read “Fromage D’Alpage”, or cheese from the high alpine pastures. I hung a U-turn and parked in the drive next to the tractor. Kristen and I stick our heads into a door and saw a woman and a boy about 10. The boy was turning a crank on a horizontal churn, about 5 gallons, making butter. The woman was moving some stainless steel milk cans and rinsing out a cheesecloth.
The room, and the woman, about 35, smelled very barnyard-y. She had coveralls and rubber boots on. I asked if we could buy some cheese, she said yes and took us into what I can only assume was her kitchen. As she got down 2 large wedges I saw the 1940 coal-fired stove (for cooking) blazing away. In the corner – one of those gigantic 100 gallon copper pots and a fireplace, where they must still make the cheese.
I gave me 2 slices to try, and I bought a very large wedge of one for about 15CHF.
The woman had 28 cows, a very thick accent, and a very, very hard life. But we had a great conversation, and her family makes great cheese I’ll always remember.
Stopped for groceries on he way out of town, then headed over the Col De Pilon, where – guess what – the sun started shining!
At the top of the Col there was a farmhouse with a sign that read “Fromage D’Alpage”, or cheese from the high alpine pastures. I hung a U-turn and parked in the drive next to the tractor. Kristen and I stick our heads into a door and saw a woman and a boy about 10. The boy was turning a crank on a horizontal churn, about 5 gallons, making butter. The woman was moving some stainless steel milk cans and rinsing out a cheesecloth.
The room, and the woman, about 35, smelled very barnyard-y. She had coveralls and rubber boots on. I asked if we could buy some cheese, she said yes and took us into what I can only assume was her kitchen. As she got down 2 large wedges I saw the 1940 coal-fired stove (for cooking) blazing away. In the corner – one of those gigantic 100 gallon copper pots and a fireplace, where they must still make the cheese.
I gave me 2 slices to try, and I bought a very large wedge of one for about 15CHF.
The woman had 28 cows, a very thick accent, and a very, very hard life. But we had a great conversation, and her family makes great cheese I’ll always remember.
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Then over the Col, passing some psycho bicyclists, with the sun now out in full force! Saw some picture perfect views of Chateau D’Oex on the way down, and we’ll have to go back for pictures.
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Walked around town, some cute shops, and a playground with a cable swing we’ll have to get Kristen, or Jill, on.
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Jill made sausage, fingerling potatoes, green beans, and salad, very nice.
If it’s nice – who knows – maybe tomorrow holds a balloon ride, or a cable car ride! Day 4 >>> |
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