Taking a Tour on the steamship La Suisse

If you are able to climb high enough into the alpine hills around Lake Geneva, you'll see the lake is shaped like a croissant, bounded on one side by France and on the other by Switzerland. The Rhone River feeds it and should you follow that north far enough, you'll be looking up your nose at the Alps themselves, covered in snow as they were the day we walked out of our hotel.

Our goal today was to explore a bit of that part of the world, and, for a start, that meant clopping down Lausanne's steep hills to the lakeside village of Ouchy (OO-chee) where we would board La Suisse, an authentic steamship designed to ferry tourists and locals in a grand loop to every village that dots the lake. Michele and Silke had suggested it.

Tickets were easy to purchase. Cyn had found the schedule online so we only had to walk up to the charming ticket booth and lay down our cash. Boarding the ship is an immediate step back in time. The interior is all wood and mahogany balustrades that lead to a bar and a second floor restaurant with room outside to sit and watch the Alps go by. Amidships you can gaze into the paddle wheeler's innards and watch the great steam engines, and its crew, at work.

The attendants stride about dressed in their smart blue CGN uniforms, prepared to address any issue its passengers might have. Each wears a white captain's cap with a gold embroidered anchor on the top and take their jobs quite seriously.

Maybe this explains why the ship appears in as perfect order today as I imagine it was the day it sailed its maiden voyage in 1910. The restaurant provides fine meals, but we tried out the onboard café, crammed with a bevy of aging women talking about their travels excitedly in French. We ordered up some hot chocolate with a pain au chocolate (one can never have too much chocolate) and then walked the deck to take in the blue water and soaring mountains. Today the lake today is flat and glassy; sunny but cool, with a stiff breeze.

Our destination is Chállon Castle, merely 1100 years old and famous as the oldest building along the lake. As the fortress protector of the Rhone River pass, the castle was central to the nation's origin. The country began as three small cantons, or municipalities, where travelers passed from south to north. To ensure passage was safe and the roads clear, tolls were set up and payment was required. Basically a you-scratch-my-back, I'll-scratch-yours arrangement. Later the cantons slowly proliferated until today there are 26 that comprise the multilingual nation.

Riding the Golden Pass Train Through the Alps

After a leisurely hour aboard La Suisse, we hopped off and walked to Chállon Castle and viewed its great ramparts which sit on a small island a few hundred yards apart from the lake shore. The history of the castle is far more complicated than I have time to write about here, but I'll provide chapter and verse when I complete the book. Chállon is a classic fortress with room enough to house a small medieval village, granaries, stables, royal apartments and a castle keep that would make any Game of Thrones monarch happy.

We explored the immense castle, dutifully listened to the audio tour, took many pictures and then began our walk to Montreaux along the lake and its hotels, restaurants and homes where we would hop the Golden Pass Train that takes passengers into the valleys of the Alps and the small ski village of D’oex.

We made the Golden Pass Train with five minutes to spare and quickly switchbacked into the mountains and the villages of Les Avant, Montbouon, Chamby and Fontanivent.

From here, you can see the croissant outlines of the lake, and the clustered buildings among the green vineyards below. Then we began to wind into pure, pine forest, budding, birch, and oak trees. The train often hangs on the lip of the steep hills, giving you the feeling you're suspended, riding on air. Almost no one is on the train (we are in between seasons) and it's almost as if we have the train to ourselves.

The hills have been shoved up and twisted into the low Alps, carpeted in green grass peppered with dandelions or thick forest pine until they reach the snow and the edges of the tree line. Above the tree line it's all snow and the red rugged, snaggletooth mountains.

We pass Glion—a village tucked in among the folds of the low alps. Tunnels have been blasted through the rock, and we passed through several rising ever higher. The tunnels and forest make it difficult to know exactly where you are. You can only be certain that you're beyond the hills that one stood over Lake Geneva, and now deep into the mountains.

Slowly we rock upward. Deciduous trees are still winter bare. At this height spring has not yet arrived. As we enter the tunnels, they are so tight and I can almost reach out and touch their walls. A group of four young teens, and some German tourists hop on, laughing riotously. One of the teens, a girl sits completely focused on her phone. Outside cows munch in the pastures, where Gruyere cows are contentedly, grazing.

The train is slow, but we are okay with that. The views are easy on the eyes. Now large wood chalets covered in cedar shingles pepper the mountains.

Eventually, make it to Château D’oex. The train is nearly empty, and when we exit, no one else joins us. We find the main street and it looks as though everyone in the village had overdose on Xanax. Hardly a should to be found among the perfectly manicured, but utterly empty streets. All around cows graze on a carpet of sharp, deep green mountains. Here, and there a farm sits among the manicured greenery. But we saw more movement among the wandering bovine, then among the people who lived in the village.

We walked the length of a Rue Grand (Main Street) and it seemed every store was closed with only a small, smattering of bars and cafés with open doors. The Restaurant Ermitage which had the finest view in the town was supposed to be open, and its doors were, but when we walked in, we found no one except a sleeping, very friendly, yellow lab who rolled over languidly to have his belly rubbed.

The Ermitage was a favorite place of the academy award winning actor, David Niven, well-known from the 1930s to the 1970s. We knew this because his pictures hung throughout the restaurant along with various luminaries including Roger Moore, the actor who played James Bond more than any other.

Niven had been a great skier, which probably explains his connection with D'oex because in winter with the snow flying, the village would be alive with shushing, hot toddies, and wealthy skiers from France, Germany and Switzerland.

We departed The Ermitage still hungry, grabbed a sandwich at a charming bar/restaurant we found open and hopped the train back to Montreaux. There, back along Lake Geneva we caught another train that would take us within two blocks of our hotel in Lausanne.

This was Switzerland in a nutshell. Like its watches, the country is expensive, but everything works: every train runs on time, transit is ubiquitous, the streets are clean and well marked, people are pleasant, stores, restaurants, hotels are charming and well designed. We never saw anyone on the street asking for food or money for a few reasons. The nation has an excellent safety net system that takes care of people in need whether its drug addiction, mental health or lack of money. And the tax system redistributes wealth: there are no outrageously wealthy Elon Musks or Jeff Bezoses (who recently launched a personal yacht costing half a billion dollars), nor are their legions of people begging on the streets.

Our friend Christian’s theory is that the French and Italian sectors of the country are easier going, looser than their Northern German counterparts. They supply the good food, the art, the architecture, the fun and the beauty and the Germans make everything work. German Swiss may not agree, but one thing is undeniable, the country is well run and people are well paid.

“Everything is twice as expensive,” says Michele, “but everyone is paid twice what they would be paid in other parts of Europe.”

Christian told me that while England, France and the rest of Western Europe (as well as the United States) were suffering through inflation in 2022 and 2023 with rates topping 10%, Switzerland’s inflation barely topped 2.9%.

At our hotel, we settled in for the night. The next day we would venture north by car to Zürich, to meet with Philippe, our friends from Navimag: Andrea, Philippe and their adorable toddler Sol. But not before spending a little time first with Michele and Silke again.