Movie Makers (Jun-Dec 1928)

TEARS OF THE MOUNT Lauterbrunnen Falls From the Train. smartly dressed people, our Swiss mountaineer effects seemed ludicrous. We were attired in all our own woolens and those we could borrow, covered by shiny slickers. Even so, we discovered that our costumes were in dire contrast to the villagers from nearby cantons — with their suede shorts, woolen socks, climbing boots, and Alpine hats with never-to-be forgotten chamois tails stuck at the back. There were stocky Germans who looked as if they were well fortified against cold by years of sausage consumption, and a few English done up in tweeds to the nth degree. When the little electric cars rolled into the station we embarked in a carriage marked "Lauterbrunnen," and comfortably settled ourselves on the bright-red plush seats, quite far from one another in our successful attempt to each be seated by a window. Our director, a portly old gentleman who had done Europe many times but was paying his first respects to a "young wife"; and the hero, the heroine, a villain, a sweet young thing, the count and the photographer — all were seated far apart when our "extras" (Germans and English) came in. The director shot an "inside" of the car and we wondered if minus "Sol," our best kleig, we could do our stuff. But here was the proof on the screen. We craned our necks to see the view — first on one side, and then, hopping over our tourist friends, on the other side, of the car to get a final glimpse of a beautiful waterfall, the deep green of a forest, or a chalet perched high on a hillside with cattle grazing all around, and an occasional view of Jungfrau herself. Interlaken is 1,865 feet high. After crossing two streams and on through the woods, by the time we reached Lauterbrunnen we had climbed nearly a thousand feet higher, a fertile plain all along the way. The train wound slowly up the valley. We looked back at the village lilliputianized below, hardly realizing that the pygmy buildings could be the shops and hotels and the charming old wooden houses, with overhanging eaves and shingled roofs, of Interlaken. At Lauterbrunnen we got out of the carriage in a rush, crossed the walk and started to board the waiting train with "Wegernalp" on the side. But alas! the "extras" who had sat by the aisle seats (these were not the usual European cars with an aisle along one side, but designed with a central passage) naturally got in for the window seats this time. This railway was a narrow gauge, electric rackand pinion-line, and the station sign said "Maximum Gradient, 25 Per Cent." As we pulled away from the station we got a magnificent view of the Staubbach (spray-brook), the best known of the falls (Lauterbrunnen itself means "nothing but springs") ; also the Trummelbach fall, which comes splashing down a narrow gorge in five cascades. The meadows were dotted with trees. Cattle grazing everywhere made one think it was truly the home of Swiss milk chocolate. Swissly enough, there were not grotesque billboards shrieking at us along the way. Then the tunnel part of our journey began. We went through four short ones and a long curved tunnel. Each time as we emerged the clouds would break and show Jungfrau becoming less an austere majesty; would show more vast expanses of rock and glaciers, all covered with fresh snow. Then the clouds would gather again and we would become more interested in the scenery close at hand. Chalets were perched above and below us, the brown-stained wood making a vivid contrast against the bright green meadows. The habitations extended to timber line, where they disappeared as abruptly as the trees. Above the timber line we ascended a very steep grade; the grassy mounds seemed barren after such abundant verdure. At Wengernalp the view of Jungfrau is superb and the two-and-a-half mile distance seems as nothing. The day was splendidly fair; there were only billowy white clouds sailing around the summit. The train ascended gradually to Schiedegg, where we changed carriages for the last time, and where, instead of being in a secluded Alpine station with few people about, there were more "extras" swarming for seats in the small train, which had accommodations for only 80 people. One of our temperamental stars stopped for a ham sandwich and a glass of beer, so the whole party was upset as the train pulled away with whistles blowing, every compartment (European style this time) full. However, we were relieved to hear that in Summer there were seven trains daily, and the guard assured us there soon would be another one along. 376