One of Gary’s most looked forward to experiences in Switzerland was to get up close and personal with the Alps. However, having missed the dizzying heights of training to the top of the Jungfrau due to rain, cloud and winds whilst we were in Interlaken, we were very keen to seize our last and thankfully sunny morning in Zermatt and tackle the mighty Matterhorn in the best way we could – the Glacial Paradise Cable Car.
Now I must clarify a few things at this stage: firstly, by ‘we’ I mean Gary .You see, I have had some previous experience of Alpine cable cars before and I knew a little of what we were in for and; secondly, by ‘Paradise’ they mean hell. Literally. Whoever runs that contraption should be arrested for false advertising.
So, with Gary chomping at the bit and me a little less so, we set out to find the start of the cable car at the very top of Zermatt, paid for our tickets and preceded to bundle up as best we could for two South Africans who packed for a European summer adventure. I already knew that my Woolies secret socks and my trusty pair of jeans, rapidly and worryingly splitting in the crotch area, were woefully inadequate for the task that lay ahead but the look of sheer excitement and anticipation on Gary’s face was enough to bolster me and get me on the car. Time to put on the big girl panties Pugh-Jones, let’s go ...
The leisurely cable car which approached the isolated ramp (maybe a sign Lan?) where we were waiting to begin the journey rapidly sped up as soon we stepped foot inside it. This little cubicle of glass, plastic and chrome then catapulted us into the heavens as soon as the doors closed shut, and before I knew it the world had fallen from under me and we were climbing into the skies at a 45 degree angle. I will also mention here that I do not appreciate the sensation of being carried high above forests, rivers, hamlets of chalets and jagged, rocky mountain peaks attached to a cable which I cannot see.
Things got worse very very quickly.
It was only as we hit the first connecting pole, shuddering what I had by now termed our ‘glass cage of emotion’ up and down vigorously, that the full meaning of a 45 minute cable car ride into the glaciers of the Matterhorn hit home. We were 2 minutes 30 into this thing and the rising panic of an anxiety attack was already crawling out of my chest and up my neck.
Just breathe, just breathe.
It was here that Gary first turned to grab his camera and take a pic of Zermatt flying into the distance behind us. My voice, coming from a deep, dark place within and summoning all the venom of a B-Grade character in an exorcist movie, hissed, “Do not move in the cable car. Keep very still”.
Suddenly a glacial breeze whipped up into a frenzy around us, and our hurtling cable car began swaying from side to side.
It was at this point that Gary shared the truly ‘good’ news, “Lan, did you know this is the highest cable car in Europe!” Oh wonderful Gary, just dandy my dear.
4000 meters above sea level.
Minus 9 degrees celcius.
32km winds.
And I’m in a bloody flying TUPPERWARE BOX!
But the story doesn’t end here ladies and gentlemen. After arriving at the so-called ‘Glacial Paradise’ and freezing our little cardigans off in the admittedly spectacular snowy views, we had a quick coffee break in the panoramic café and began to make our way back to the dreaded cars and towards solid earth in Zermatt.
Unfortunately, there were only two ways back down the mountain – snowboots and hiking (that’s a big ‘can’t do’ right there folks) and that damned cable car. The sheer terror in the pit of your stomach when, having very ungraciously braved a very hairy ride up, you realize that the whole endeavour must be repeated downwards - simply indescribable. And to really up the ante, upon climbing back into the cable car from the ramp a whole host of sirens went beserk in perfect synchronicity and the entire operation ground to a halt.
Everyone else seemed to be super relaxed or on another planet, as I looked around wildly and urgently gestured to the young teenager manning the control room, who had his feet up on the desk and his iPod in his ears. Just as suddenly as the whole mechanism had stopped it all began humming to life again. By now it was a tad too late for me to launch myself out of the closing car and so, freaked out and armed with the bad omen of the halting cable, we set off downwards to skim the slopes.
This time the earth below us, serrated icy peaks and desolate volcanic valleys, was not falling beneath us but rushing up towards me at a rate of knots. Looking to the horizon, I could not see anything but blue skies in my peripheral vision. Awe-inspiring stuff.
However, at the highest point of the ride, and on cue with the wind that was beginning to build up again, the unthinkable happened.
OUR CABLE CAR STOPPED. Dead still. I could hear a pin drop.
I could write novels on the grisly intricacies of what transpired next and will try not to do so here, save to say that there was a lot of heavy breathing and white knuckles on my part; Gary kept trying to tell me how everything would be okay (his increasingly croaky voice giving the game away) and the whole scenario was repeated no less than 3 more times as the cable car kept lurching forward and grinding to a halt – each time making the damn thing sway harder than a mambo dancer.
For the love of all that is holy. I just kept thinking, “And we paid in Euros for this???”
By the time we got to dry land, feeling more than a little wobbly, and I had got off my knees from kissing the linoleum floor of the cable car ticket office, I had already tried to register complaint and the need for an inquiry. Mam, if I had known that the cable car might stop and not to be alarmed by this, then I would have mentally prepared myself for it!
With a splitting migraine from using the sheer power of my mind to keep us attached to the cable and moving downwards at a slow smooth pace, and with Gary also looking a little shattered, we walked the streets of Zermatt looking for gluwien.
Wont be doing that again in a hurry …
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