Great Continental Railway Journeys (2012–…): Season 1, Episode 4 - Switzerland - full transcript
I'm embarking on a new
railway adventure,
that will take me
across the heart of Europe.
I'll be using this,
my Bradshaw's
Continental Railway Guide,
dated 1913, which opened up an
exotic world of foreign travel
for the British tourist.
It told travellers where to go,
what to see and how to navigate
the thousands of miles of tracks
criss-crossing the continent.
Now, a century later,
I'm using my copy to reveal an era
of great optimism and energy,
where technology, industry, science
and the arts were flourishing.
I want to rediscover that lost
Europe that in 1913
couldn't know that its way of life
would shortly be swept aside
by the advent of war.
Armed with my 1913 railway guide,
I'm following in the footsteps
of early 20th century travellers
and making five long
journeys across Europe.
Today, I'm exploring Switzerland,
whose remarkable railways
helped to make it a favourite
with Edwardian tourists.
Cheers.
Cheers.
I'll discover the cargo carried
on the country's first ever line...
Mmm...
wonderful!
Before heading
for the glorious Alps...
I've been lucky enough to experience
some very beautiful train journeys,
but this must be
one of the very best.
Where the British
left their mark on sport...
British people are sometimes
a little bit crazy.
..And literature...
Do you remember any
Sherlock Holmes stories?
HE HOWLS
And where astonishing
engineering feats
conquered the most
challenging peaks.
That's the longest
glacier of the Alps.
That is awe inspiring.
My Swiss adventure begins in Basel,
then traces a route outlined
in my guidebook,
via the industrial city of Zurich,
then south east to Chur.
From there, the famous
Glacier Express will carry me
through some of Switzerland's
most stunning alpine scenery,
before I turn north
to explore Lake Lucerne.
Finally, I'll make the
impressive railway ascent
to Jungfraujoch, Europe's
highest railway station.
It's clear from the dizzying
array of routes
and the lyrical descriptions
contained in my Bradshaw's
1913 Continental Railway Guide
that by the beginning
of the 20th century,
the railways had opened
Switzerland to tourists,
and the draw of what my guidebook
calls "the finest lake
and mountain scenery"
had made Switzerland one of the most
aspirational of destinations.
I shall be following one of my
guidebook's recommended routes
through this spectacular country,
but to reach my first stop,
I'm travelling on a French train,
along French tracks.
I'm heading for the Swiss
border city of Basel,
which, since medieval times,
has been a melting pot of
French, German and Swiss influences.
By 1913, it had also become
the nexus of a sprawling
continental railway network.
Bradshaw's tells me that Basel is
the key to Switzerland,
where several
international railway lines meet,
and the customs examinations
take place.
Here, the trains from Alsace,
where I've just come from, run in,
connecting with
the principal Swiss railways,
and although
I've come to a Swiss city,
this part of the station
is still officially France.
I'm unpicking the history
of this railway hub
with historian Martin Lengwiler.
Hello, Martin. Hello, Michael.
This is really a very
international place, isn't it?
I see French trains, Swiss trains,
German trains.
This is the meeting point
of the nations, isn't it?
That's true indeed and Basel has
a special place in the history
of the Swiss railway system
because it's the first town that has
been linked to any railway line
and it's still the only town in
Switzerland that has three stations
of three national origins.
Surprisingly,
the very first railway on Swiss soil
was actually built by the French.
In 1844, they constructed
a line from Strasbourg
to the Swiss border and proposed a
terminus within Basel's city limits.
But they got a lukewarm reception
from the ruling elite.
They were anxious because
of military reasons.
They were afraid that the French
would use the railway
to attack Basel with their troops.
That's quite surprising to us
because we now associate the Swiss
almost as much with railways
as we do with wristwatches
and clocks.
It's strange to think that the Swiss
were reluctant to have a railway.
Railways got off
to a slow start across the country.
Thanks to Switzerland's
mountainous landscape,
late industrialisation and its
decentralised political system,
the first home-grown line
wasn't built until 1847,
by which time Britain
had over 2,000 miles of tracks.
Basel finally got
a Swiss station in 1854,
and the Germans soon followed
with one of their own.
Today, the French and Swiss termini
share a site.
But the French station
has extra-territorial status -
so to join the Swiss network,
I'm crossing an international
frontier.
The murals are inviting us
to visit the rest of Switzerland.
A lot of alpine scenery here.
That's true, the lake of Lucerne,
the Berne Alps,
this is designed for tourists,
of course.
Very appropriate for me,
because I'll be visiting
scenery quite like this.
Before I continue my journey,
I'm venturing out to
explore this multicultural city,
that straddles the River Rhine.
Just a year after my guidebook
was published,
life in picturesque Basel
was disrupted,
as Switzerland's neighbours were
drawn into the First World war.
But for Edwardian readers
of my Bradshaw's,
this city's hub location
made it the perfect pit-stop.
In the days before air travel
brought us jet-lag
and climate shock,
guidebooks were concerned to
treat travellers gently.
My Bradshaw's says,
"Basel is recommended
"as an intermediate station
for the change of climate between
"the warm south and the low-lying
north and alpine districts.
"It offers its visitors
manifold points of pleasure."
I think I might
just stick to a meal.
Followers of my 1913 guide
would have made a beeline
for the beautiful historic centre.
It's where I've come to see
how French, German
and Swiss traditions have
influenced Basel's cuisine.
We have here the veal, Basel style,
and this is the rosti, it's typical.
Rosti, typically Swiss,
thank you very much indeed.
Bon appetit!
Thank you.
I think Swiss-German farmers
used to make it for their breakfast
and during World War I,
the term "Rostigraben" was invented,
the ditch based on the rosti,
which separated those
of French and German sympathy
and it's an expression
that's still used today
to express the cultural divide -
the Rostigraben.
Much as I'd like to stay
and explore Basel,
with almost 300 miles to cover
on my 1913 guidebook's recommended
route, there's no time to waste.
And so Switzerland opens before me.
From a slow start,
the Swiss railway network
has become one of the most
admired in the world.
And I'm going on a journey
of discovery to find out why.
The quality of Swiss trains
is as you would imagine -
beautifully clean,
delightfully air-conditioned,
and this is first class.
Spacious and luxurious.
And even second class
is absolutely satisfactory.
I'm following in the footsteps
of Edwardian tourists,
but I'm about to delve into Europe's
much more distant past.
Hello.
Hello, may I see your ticket?
I'm going to Brugg. Thank you.
Thank you very much.
You're welcome, bye-bye.
In the early 20th century,
ancient history was a hot topic,
as British archaeologists blazed
a trail across the globe.
Inspired by their exotic
foreign discoveries,
readers of my 1913
guide would have been tantalised
by the description of my next stop.
I'll be getting off this train
at Brugg, and my Bradshaw's says,
"A little to the north of Brugg,
"the Aare river
is joined by the Reuss,
"coming from the lakes
of Zug and Lucerne,
"and at the point of junction
"once stood the ancient
Roman town of Vindonissa,
"scarcely a trace of which
now exists."
I'm hoping that in the 100 years
since my guidebook was published
more traces have been unearthed.
In fact, by 1913,
pioneering archaeologists,
working in the village of Windisch,
just outside Brugg,
had already begun
to reveal what is today
a nearly fully excavated
Roman legionary camp.
It was the Romans' key military
stronghold in Switzerland.
I'm exploring with archaeologist,
Jurgen Trumm.
I'm amazed by what I've found here
because my Bradshaw's guide tells me
there aren't many traces
left of Vindonissa.
When did people first become
aware of what they had here?
I think the beginning
of the archaeology
was linked with the railway,
the railway from Basel to Zurich.
The mid-19th century
railway engineers
unearthed a Roman rubbish dump,
filled with bones, ceramics,
coins and wooden objects.
Then in the 1900s,
the local community put things
on a formal footing.
They founded an archaeological
society,
and, in 1912, set up a museum
proudly to display their heritage.
The 20th century was also
a high period for archaeology,
I think of some
of the great discoveries
that excited the public so much,
like Tutankhamen in the 1920s.
Yes, in Switzerland, archaeology
was en vogue at the beginning
of the 20th century,
so people dig the Roman ruins,
they dig the ruins
from the Stone and Bronze Ages.
The work begun a century ago
continues today.
Whenever a building is planned
in the modern towns of Windisch
and Brugg, the archaeologists go in
first to check for buried treasures.
What's the most exciting
thing you've found?
So, a very nice one is that here,
dice made out of bone,
looks really like today's dice.
That's absolutely wonderful.
And these markings
are the original markings?
It's incised into the bone.
Incised into the bone,
isn't that beautiful?
It's amazing to think that all this
lay beneath the feet of the
Edwardian tourists who came here.
OK.
That's OK, Joachim.
Off we go.
'Before I leave, a modern invention
'gives me a new perspective
on this remarkable site.'
We are going to have
a wonderful view. Yes, indeed.
I'm looking out at a Roman world
and I'm seeing it
as no Roman ever did.
I'm now continuing along the railway
route recommended in my 1913 guide.
I'm bound for a place which
attracted Edwardian tourists
concerned for their health.
I shall be disembarking at Baden,
which my Bradshaw's tells me is,
"A picturesque town near Zurich,
on the River Limmat,
"noted for its hot mineral springs,
"most beneficial in cases of gout,
rheumatism, chronic catarrhs etc."
I'm here in search
of a local speciality
which is probably
a bit less healthy,
but which is inextricably
linked with the railways.
Baden has the honour
of being the starting point
for the first fully Swiss railway,
which, from 1847, carried wealthy
Zurich folk to their water cure.
But soon after it opened,
the line gained an unusual nickname.
Even today, it's known
as the Spanisch-Brotli-Bahn,
after a local sweet treat.
Hello, Michael.
A warm welcome to you in Baden.
Thank you very much.
It's a beautiful town,
I'm very pleased to be here.
Tour guide Beatrice Candrian
knows the story.
I'm half Spanish
and I understand that, in Baden,
you have a pastry
which is called a Spanisch brotli.
That's true. What is this?
Well, it's a very nice
fluffy pastry.
We don't quite know the origin.
We think that a Spanish baker
just travelled through Baden
and he brought this recipe here.
The cake became
a much-loved delicacy
with the people of Zurich,
15 miles away.
And when the railway was built
between Zurich and Baden,
I suppose that helped people
in Zurich
to come to Baden
and buy their brotli.
It sure did.
It helped mostly the servants,
because, before the opening
of the railroad line,
the servants had to walk through
the darkness of the night
along the Limmat,
two to three hours,
to buy them here very early
in the morning
and to bring them back
for their breakfast,
so you can imagine that
those servants were mostly happy
when they could board the train.
By the mid-20th century, these rich
pastries had fallen out of favour,
but, five years ago, a few
local bakeries revived the recipe.
Now, Michael, here,
meet, please, Benny,
the baker of our Spanisch brotli.
Benny, hello.
'I'm going to learn how
to make the modern version.'
What have you put in there?
Hazelnuts, carrots,
sugar and persipan.
Wow, that sounds very, very sweet.
'To keep the puff pastry perfect,
'spreading the mixture
requires a light touch.'
This is the tricky bit,
getting up to the limit.
Mine has rather the look
of a Swiss mountain range,
just too many valleys.
Here we go...
Ooooh!
Oh, no! Oh, Benny!
My edges are all broken, argh.
No-one will know,
just patch that up.
'The Spanisch brotli
are cut into individual cakes.'
Oh, you need a steady hand for this.
First one is a bit squashed.
The second one is going to be great.
Ah, that one's brilliant.
Then 18 minutes later,
it's time for the acid test.
Mmm, they are good.
The pastry is great, isn't it?
Very fluffy pastry.
Fluffy and light, yes.
Well, they taste OK to me, but I
want to know whether they're worthy
of their railway namesake, so I'm
taking my efforts to the streets.
These are Spanish brotli.
Have you ever heard...?
Ah, Spanisch-Brotli-Bahn.
Yes. The Spanisch-Brotli-Bahn?
I know, but not really.
Spanish-Brotli-Bahn.
Ja, that we know.
Spanisch-Brotli-Bahn.
What was the Spanisch-Brotli-Bahn?
A train between Baden and Zurich.
Yeah? The first train
in Switzerland.
Would you like to try it? Ja, yes.
Go ahead, tell me what
you think. Have a bite.
Ja.
Mmm, wonderful.
Yes, I try it for you.
Yeah, just a favour to me.
Yes, sure.
Very good.
It's delicious.
It's good. Is it good?
Tastes like one.
Do you think it's worth a journey
from Zurich to Baden to buy that?
Yeah, why not!
You can take it on your train,
then your train will be
the Spanisch-Brotli-Bahn.
That's it. Thank you.
Thank you. Bye.
I'm now swapping my Spanisch brotli
for the Spanisch-Brotli line,
to head to the next stop
on my Edwardian itinerary.
I'm now travelling the route
of the first railway
ever built in Switzerland,
towards Zurich,
which my Bradshaw's tells me, "Is
the capital of the canton of Zurich,
"and commercially the most
important town in Switzerland."
I think of it for its financiers,
the so-called Gnomes of Zurich,
but it also has a substantial
history as an engineering town.
Zurich's entrepreneurs
were at the heart
of the Swiss Industrial Revolution,
and the British traveller
arriving here in 1913 could marvel
at the city's many textile mills.
Bradshaw's comments that,
"The principal manufacture
is concerned with silk,
"but the engineering trade
is also extensive,"
and at the beginning
of the 20th century those skills
were being applied to railways.
To the average Briton in 1913,
trains meant steam.
But a trip to Switzerland might mean
an encounter with an exciting
new technology - electricity.
Railway engineers had experimented
with electric traction
from the 1840s, but around
the turn of the 20th century
electricity was to transform
European travel.
I've come to the suburb of Oerlikon,
to hear how a Zurich firm played
a leading role in the story.
My guide is railway enthusiast,
Albert Schoch.
Hello, Albert. Hello, Michael.
This is the most
extraordinary place.
It has the feel of an industrial
building but the look of a park.
What is it?
It's referring to these old buildings
here of Maschinenfabrik Oerlikon
and it shows the dimensions
of an old assembly hall.
Today, this is a peaceful
public park
but the Maschinenfabrik Oerlikon,
or MFO,
was once one of Zurich's biggest
employers, with over 2,000 workers.
It started out as a metal-works but
then, in the early 20th century,
the world's first electric
locomotive,
using alternating current,
was constructed here.
And these new trains proved ideally
suited to Swiss conditions.
Switzerland is very demanding
territory for locomotives,
very high mountains, very low
temperatures, very steep slopes,
and MFO was able to meet the need.
Yes, Michael.
Electric trains were cleaner
in Switzerland's many tunnels
than smoky steam engines
and the country's abundant supply
of hydroelectric power
made them cheap to run.
One of MFO's greatest achievements
was when it designed a locomotive
for the infamous St Gotthard line,
one of the steepest in the country.
They electrified
the Saint Gotthard line in 1921
and MFO gave the
solution with the famous Crocodile,
the CE68 or BE68 and a really
powerful machine, never seen before.
And this was not just a locomotive
for Switzerland,
this was a really outstanding
object of admiration.
After the triumph of the Crocodile,
MFO went from strength to strength.
But in the 1990s, its railway
activities were outsourced,
and by the year 2000,
the factory was finally shut down
and eventually dismantled.
The only part to survive was
the old administrative building.
So, Albert, why have you brought me
to a building site
next to the railway line here?
Michael, this beautiful brick stone
building from 1889
used to stand on this position
where we are now.
Do you mean they demolished it
and rebuilt it over there?
No, not at all.
They moved it, 60 metres westwards.
They are enlarging
the station of Oerlikon,
so they had to decide
to demolish or to move.
Amazingly, rather than
lose this last piece
of the company's industrial history,
the building was moved,
lock stock and barrel,
at a cost of over £8 million.
After 10 months of preparation,
on 22nd May 2012,
it was carried along special tracks,
at a rate of four metres per hour.
Clearly the people here
are very proud of MFO's history
and clearly the Swiss are still
engineers of world class.
Yes, you may say.
Directed by my 1913 guide,
early 20th century visitors
would have bypassed
Zurich's industrial outskirts
and headed straight for the centre
and I'm now following
in their footsteps
to see why it receives
such a glowing recommendation.
My Bradshaw's comments that,
"The older parts remain in places
quaint and picturesque,
"while the modern quarters
are spacious and handsome."
With the main station
behind me, Hauptbahnhof,
and this being Bahnhofstrasse,
this is part of the modern Zurich
and it's time to take a tram.
In the cradle of modern
electric trains,
what better way
could there be to travel?
While some British cities have
recently restored a tram line
or two, most still regret
the fact that they did away
with their tram systems
many years ago.
Look at Zurich's map -
this is a place for tram lovers.
My 1913 guide directs me south,
towards the shore
of the famous Lake Zurich.
My Bradshaw's says that from the
quays, "There's a beautiful view
"over the lake
and the surrounding country."
I find Zurich a stunning city,
made all the prettier
by pink evening light.
The sunset's my cue to find a hotel
and as usual my guidebook
has the answer.
Well, for my night's stay in Zurich
I turn to my Bradshaw's Guide,
which has an advertisement
for the Savoy Hotel.
"First class family hotel,
"apartments with bath and toilette,
"restaurant Francais, American bar."
Sounds ideal.
I'm checking in with manager,
Manfred Horger.
Manfred. Evening,
great pleasure meeting you.
Great to see you.
You stay, in fact, in the hotel
which has been the first hotel
ever built in Zurich.
So, how old is the Savoy?
It was opened
on the 24th December, 1838.
American bars first opened in Europe
in the late 19th century
and readers of my guidebook
would have known that any hotel
advertising one would serve
fashionable US-style cocktails.
It's good to know that my Bradshaw's
could point the thirsty cognoscenti
in the direction
of a perfect Martini.
Manfred, cheers. Cheers.
You know, after a long and busy day,
I was feeling a little shaken,
but the beauty of your hotel
has left me stirred.
Thank you, that's very kind of you.
Fortified by a night
of Edwardian-era luxury,
it's time for me to continue
along the route recommended
by my 1913 guide.
But before I leave, I want to get
an insight into this country's
famously efficient rail service.
Zurich is, of course, Switzerland's
busiest railway station.
Today I've been given privileged
access to the control tower.
It's a complex operation,
for no terminus in Europe has more
trains arriving and departing.
From Zurich, you can travel directly
to all corners of the continent.
3,000 trains
and around 350,000 passengers
pass through this vital
railway hub every day.
And the nerve centre
of the operation is this tower
that looms over
the station's 24 platforms.
Inside, the banks of screens
are watched over
by a team of highly-trained staff.
Hello, I'm Michael.
Hello, Michael, nice to meet you.
I notice you're all very calm.
It's a wonderful atmosphere
in here, actually.
Yeah, but that can be different
when we have...delays.
I didn't know there WERE delays in
Switzerland. This is news to me.
SHE LAUGHS
Yes!
But we are talking about delay
when a train is three minutes late.
The Swiss reputation for precision
is maintained
by the latest technology
and faultless attention to detail.
Well, here, you just
see the station so well.
And you see it's now 10 o'clock,
2 minutes after 10 o'clock,
and all the trains
in Zurich Main Station,
they come some minutes
before full and half hour
and they leave some minutes after.
So now all the trains are leaving
and if you see in 10 minutes,
10-15, the whole station
will be empty.
Really? And it's every hour
exactly the same thing.
That is the secret
of Swiss time keeping!
Exactly.
It's my cue to return
to the platform
and recommence my route along the
tracks of Edwardian travellers.
The signal box is looking after us
every kilometre of the way.
I'm leaving the city behind and
heading towards the Swiss landscapes
promised in my 1913 guide.
I've been lucky enough to experience
some very beautiful train journeys,
but this one, along
the southern shore of Lake Zurich,
must be one of the very best.
My Bradshaw's paints
a wonderful picture, saying,
"On either hand, sloping meadows
rise from the water's edge,
"the higher lands being clothed
with vineyards and orchards".
I'm hoping it's just the first
of many views that will amaze.
My journey across Switzerland
now enters a new phase.
I've left behind the big city of
Zurich and I'm headed for the Alps.
I can trace my journey
on the pull-out map.
My train started in Zurich,
moved along the southern
shores of Lake Zurich,
and then it will
go down towards Chur.
From Chur, one of Europe's
most scenic train journeys
will carry me west.
At Goschenen, I'll join
the engineering triumph,
the Gotthard line,
before crossing by boat to Lucerne.
I'll then stop off at Meiringen's
famous Reichenbach Falls,
en route to a station 3,500 metres
above sea level.
Danke!
What better to accompany
the Swiss mountains
than a rugged range
of Swiss cheeses?
Nowadays, it's winter sports
that bring people to the Alps
and I'm on my way to discover
how that story began
in the age of my 1913 guide.
I'm changing train in Chur.
My Bradshaw's tells me it's
"The capital of the canton
of the Grisons.
"1,935 feet above sea,
"the Curia Rhaetorum
of the Romans,
"in an attractive situation
on the River Plessur.
"In the winter, skating and skiing,"
while in summer, like today,
there's no snow to be seen,
but this important railway junction
is gateway to a lovely ski region
and British tourists played an
important part in its development.
To find out more, I'm taking
one of the most spectacular trips
that the nation has to offer -
the Glacier Express.
The moment you get on the Glacier
Express, it has a special feel,
because, of course,
there's so much more light
because of these windows
all along the roof line
and it looks like everyone on board
is going to be tucking
into a very good lunch.
The Glacier Express links two
of Switzerland's most famous
ski resorts, St Moritz and Zermatt.
The complete trip takes over
seven hours, winning the service
the reputation as the slowest
express train in the world.
These panoramic tourist trains
have been in use for only 30 years,
but the line was completed
back in the 1930s,
when it first began to carry
eager skiers to the Alps.
Hello, Guido. Hello, Mike.
How lovely to see you. Have a seat.
Thank you.
'Guido Ratti is joining me
'to explain how the winter holiday
was born right here in Switzerland.'
British tourists.
They are really the founder
of winter tourism and winter sports.
Which is very surprising,
because we have really no mountains
and very little snow.
Yes, but if you allow,
British people are very special,
sometimes a little bit crazy
and they like to have action.
Until the 1860s,
British thrill-seekers
contented themselves
with summer hiking trips
through the Alpine scenery.
But then an enterprising hotelier
from nearby St Moritz,
keen to extend the season,
had a brainwave.
We had the famous bet
of Mr Johannes Badrutt,
he owned the Hotel Kulm.
And he made a bet with
his English guests -
they should come in winter
and he promised them
if they come in winter
and they don't like it,
he would pay the journey
from London to St Moritz and back.
I was told they came
at Christmas time
and left St Moritz only after Easter.
They probably did in those days,
they were people of leisure.
Sold on the idea
of Switzerland in the winter,
the British soon took
to skating and skiing,
but that wasn't enough
for the biggest adrenaline addicts.
First they came, of course,
for skiing, but as British people
are very special and very sporty,
they founded the skeleton sport,
the bob sport. Even horse racing in
St Moritz was due to British people.
Horse racing in St Moritz?
Yes, of course, on the frozen lake,
we have a very special race.
We have a full-blood horse,
without jockey,
but a skier in his back
and this is a very exciting race.
A racehorse towing a skier -
fantastic.
Some of the hair-raising pursuits
founded by British tourists
continue today, including
the infamous Cresta run.
But winter sports weren't
just for the adventurous few.
In the early 20th century,
British entrepreneur Henry Lunn
organised the first package
ski holidays
and, by 1913, the trains were
bringing over 1,000 winter tourists
to the Alps every year.
My Bradshaw's guide of 1913 has
a lot of timetables in it
and I noticed that in 1913
you could get on the train in London
and it lists all the way down
to getting off in St Moritz.
That's amazing, isn't it?
That's true. That was
a very special tourist train
and you went, after
a journey of 24 hours,
you were from London in St Moritz.
Yes. It's extraordinary, isn't it?
100 years ago it was just 24 hours
from one world to a completely
different universe. That's true.
It's astonishing to think that
downhill skiing in Switzerland
is less than 150 years old.
But travelling on this
extraordinary train today,
it's easy to see why people want to
enjoy this landscape all year round.
It's a new day, and I can't wait
to get started on the next section
of my guidebook's
recommended route.
My Bradshaw's Guide is breathless
about the next stage of my journey.
"Limits of space preclude
any attempt
"to describe the journey
from Goschenen to Fluelen,
"as the train glides
through engineering triumphs
"that constitute
the Saint Gotthard line."
I fear that I too
may be lost for words,
as clearly I experience one of
the great train rides of my life.
When the Gotthard line
opened in 1882,
it marked a turning point in this
country's railway history.
WHISTLE BLOWS
Although it wasn't the first
to conquer the Swiss Alps,
it did involve building
the world's longest tunnel,
at a cost of 200 lives.
Between Goschenen and my next stop,
the line has to drop
over 2,000 feet,
and the engineer came up
with a clever way
to keep the gradient
as shallow as possible.
To make the descent, the train has
to go through a series of loops,
as my Bradshaw's says,
"With a tunnel and a bridge
every few yards."
These are the engineering triumphs
and I'm going to leap around
from side to side of the train
trying to catch a glimpse of where
I'm going and where I've been.
Thanks to the line's ingenious
design, the scenery appears to shift
around you as the train corkscrews
ever deeper into the valley.
So that pretty church,
the church of Wassen...
appeared now on my right.
I believe we are going to see it
on different sides of the train
as we wind our way down.
How did that happen?
In a few moments the church
has switched sides.
It was on the right,
now it's on the left.
The Gotthard line shows just
how far Swiss railways had come
by the turn of the 20th century.
The sheer vision and ambition
demonstrated by blasting a line
through the towering Alps
astonishes me.
It put Switzerland at the heart
of the European railway network.
It's brought me to Fluelen,
where I'm swapping the train
for another form of transport.
So, my Bradshaw's tells me
that here at Fluelen,
"We embark upon the southern arm
of Lake Lucerne,
"and many pleasant excursions may be
made by the steamer services."
If I'm going to continue
to enjoy this wonderful scenery,
it's time for me to get aboard.
I'm taking a boat trip from
the southernmost tip of the lake
right to the top
and my 1913 guidebook
is packed with landmarks
to look out for on the way.
My Bradshaw's says,
"As we leave Fluelen, on the left,
"in the hollow between
the peaks of the Uri-Rotstock,
"a glacier is plainly seen.
"And in a line from the glacier,
"on the lake's shore, is the
dynamite factory of Isleten."
I'll give you a prize if you can
think why there's a dynamite factory
in such a noble and peaceful place.
Dynamite was invented in the
19th century and was a vital tool
for the railway engineers carving
new routes through the mountains.
The factory here was established
by dynamite's inventor,
the famous chemist, Alfred Nobel.
His explosives were later
used extensively in war,
but he wanted to be remembered
for something more positive.
On his death,
Alfred Nobel left a legacy,
which was to form a prize
to be awarded to those who did,
"The most or the best work
for fraternity amongst nations,
"for the abolition or reduction
of standing armies
"and for the promotion
of peace congresses."
My 1913 Bradshaw's lyrically
describes Lake Lucerne as,
"A narrow sheet of water,
with lofty, wall-like,
forest-clad mountains,
"rising sheer out of the water
on either side"
Its beauty is today
in no way diminished,
but not everyone
on board seems to appreciate it.
Hello, gentlemen. Hello.
May I sit down for a second? Yeah.
So...
you're travelling on the boat
through this beautiful scenery,
but you're playing cards.
Why don't you look at the scenery?
We know it.
Ah!
Do you travel very frequently, then?
No, we live over there.
Why are you on the boat
if you know it so well?
We are a carnival group
and every year
we make a little journey...
The locals may be blase, but I can
just imagine the wonder
that British Edwardian tourists
must have felt experiencing
this landscape.
And I'm now approaching one of their
most favoured holiday spots.
Bradshaw's says that,
"Lucerne is perhaps
the most beautifully-situated
tourist centre in Europe.
"Surrounded on three sides
by exquisitely wooded hills
"with a magnificent prospect
over a small arm of the lake."
And to judge by the pages
of advertisements for hotels,
it was, at the beginning
of the 20th century,
a very popular tourist resort.
But I'm here in pursuit
of one of my personal heroes
from the 19th century.
In the 1860s,
the musical genius Richard Wagner
joined the growing numbers
of wealthy families
drawn to Lucerne's
stunning waterfront.
He made his home
in the suburb of Tribschen,
in this luxurious lakeside villa.
In 1913, fans making the pilgrimage
here were disappointed,
as it was still a private house.
Luckily for me, in the 1930s,
the city of Lucerne
finally responded
to the flood of visitors
by turning it into a museum.
I'm meeting the museum's manger,
Yvonne Bieder.
Hi. Lovely to see you.
I'm quite a fan of the opera
composer Richard Wagner.
What years was he living
in this house?
He spent six years of his life
in this house from 1866 to '72.
Were these quite happy
years for the composer?
Very happy years, yes.
He said they were the happiest
of his life.
German-born Wagner moved
to Switzerland from Munich
and was closely followed by his
married lover, Cosima von Bulow.
Two of their three children
were born here
and, in 1870, he finally
married his mistress in Lucerne.
Wagner is best known for music
that's big and loud
but this stunning setting
and the birth of his son, Siegfried,
inspired a dreamy kind of work.
So, as a surprise
for her 33rd birthday,
Richard Wagner
composed a very nice piece of music
called Siegfried's Idyll,
and it was performed for the very
first time on this staircase.
He was standing exactly here
and conducting,
and all the musicians
standing upwards
and downwards the staircase
and around him.
And Cosima woke to hear
this orchestra playing.
Yes, she was so moved.
I know a lot of people wonder
what surprise birthday present
they should give their wives.
Now they know -
they just have to compose a piece
of music and bring in an orchestra.
Yes, exactly!
Wagner's birthday composition
was originally entitled
the Triebschen Idyll,
which was how he referred
to his lakeside home.
And I'm being treated to
a piano duet version of the work,
performed
on a very special instrument.
The piece is now being played
on Wagner's piano.
Yes, his original Erard grand piano,
standing in the same corner as the
period he was living in this house.
Thank you so very much.
I enjoyed that enormously.
You know many people think of Wagner
as being loud and bombastic
and tuneless
and yet this is very, very soft
and loving and very melodious.
This is kind of Wagner
for Wagner-haters.
I can see why
this most stunning of Swiss cities
inspired Wagner's gentlest music.
I'm now taking
to the tracks again,
to make one last journey
before nightfall.
Every year, thousands of tourists
come to Switzerland
on railway holidays
and it's great to be among
so many like-minded travellers.
You've got your map of Switzerland
out, are you doing a grand tour?
We are, we are trying to InterRail
the old railway lines
and boats of Switzerland.
You're a man after my own heart,
doing it all by railway.
Are you an aficionado of trains?
I wouldn't say so, but we went
InterRailing 20 years ago
and we wanted to do it again
with our kids and see the changes.
And there are some. It's
not as easy as it used to be.
No? Switzerland, you can still
hop on and hop off,
but the rest of Europe,
you really have to pre-plan
and do your reservations.
Ah, yes.
So it's not as easy.
But Switzerland is a good place
for railways, isn't it?
Oh, it's excellent.
After a long day's travel,
my 1913 guidebook has led me
to a dramatic Alpine valley and,
I hope, my bed for the night.
I've spent the night in Meiringen,
at the Hotel du Sauvage,
barely changed since 1880.
I am allegedly not the first
Englishman to stay in this hostelry.
"In this hotel, called by Sir Arthur
Conan Doyle The Englischer Hof,
"Mr Sherlock Holmes
and Dr Watson spent the night
of 3rd-4th May, 1891."
I can't wait to find out
what happened next.
Out on the streets,
the Sherlock Holmes
connection is obvious,
but I wonder whether
visitors to Meiringen
know why Britain's favourite
detective will be for ever linked
to this Swiss town.
Do you know about Sherlock Holmes?
The detective? Yes. Sherlock Holmes?
Ja, wir kennen das.
Ah-ah!
Do you remember any Sherlock Holmes
stories?
HE HOWLS
He always had the...
Erm, pipe?
ALL: Chipuk.
Ah-ha!
Ja, das ist ganz typisch
Sherlock Holmes.
Yeah. Ganz typisch Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock Holmes?
The Reichenbach Falls.
He died... He's dead. ..Here.
In 1893,
Arthur Conan Doyle famously chose
the Reichenbach Falls,
just outside Meiringen, as the
setting for Sherlock Holmes's death.
And ever since then, fans have been
visiting the scene of the crime.
Reaching the spot on foot
entails a gruelling climb,
but since 1899, there's been
a more restful route to the top.
My Bradshaw's says,
"On the south side of Meiringen,
"in the summer,
the Reichenbach Falls
"are illuminated by electricity.
"An electric rail runs from near
the Hotel Reichenbach."
No mention there of the famous
fictional detective.
I think because every reader
knew about Sherlock Holmes,
and the Reichenbach Falls
were a notorious household name.
Conan Doyle decided
on the Reichenbach Falls
as the scene of Holmes's
shocking demise
after visiting them
on a summer holiday.
Guy Marriott is from the
Sherlock Holmes Society of London.
Guy! Oh, Michael.
Hello. How good to see you.
Nothing prepared me
for the Reichenbach Falls,
they are absolutely tremendous.
No wonder that Conan Doyle
set his melodrama here.
They are looking
particularly good today.
They are looking as Conan Doyle
would have seen them
when he was here
in the summer of 1893.
What had led Conan Doyle
to kill off Sherlock Holmes?
Conan Doyle was tired of the
character of Sherlock Holmes.
He had been writing monthly stories
for The Strand magazine.
He was finding it difficult
to think of good plots
and he felt that Sherlock distracted
him from more important work.
As in many of his Holmes stories,
Conan Doyle's intended last case
for the great detective, The Final
Problem, features a railway journey.
Like all good Victorians, Holmes
and Watson knew the best way
to plan a trip by train.
Holmes, more particularly Watson,
made very good use of Bradshaw's,
didn't they?
Yes, they did, they had
in their rooms at 221b Baker Street,
a copy of each month's
Bradshaw's railway timetable
and on several occasions
in the stories,
it's recorded that Holmes
instructs Watson to check Bradshaw
in order find the best time
of a train
to whichever destination they need
to go to because a case has arisen.
No journey can begin
without Bradshaw.
In The Final Problem,
Holmes and Watson travel by train
further afield.
Staying ahead of criminal
mastermind Moriarty,
they journey to Switzerland
and decide to make the steep climb
to the Reichenbach Falls.
But just before they reach a narrow
ledge at the edge of the torrent,
Dr Watson receives a message
calling him back to the hotel.
When Watson finally returns,
having discovered, of course, that
it's a hoax that has taken him back,
he finds no trace
of either Holmes or Moriarty,
instead only a hand-written note
from Holmes,
saying that Moriarty
has found him here
and they are going to fight out
the issues between them.
Watson concludes that both men
have plunged to their deaths,
and his devastation was shared
by Holmes's many fans.
It is said, although this
is probably apocryphal,
that clerks in the City went to work
wearing black crepe armbands,
in memory of the great detective.
A moment's silence, I think.
It seems appropriate.
But Holmes's body hadn't been found
and that left readers
with a sliver of hope.
Despite Conan Doyle's resolve,
he was eventually persuaded
to revive his hero
and went on writing cases
until his own death in 1930.
Like Sherlock Holmes,
I rely on Bradshaw's.
Unlike Sherlock Holmes, I've made
it back from the Reichenbach Falls
to continue my journey.
I'm now embarking on the final leg
of my Swiss trip
and I'm departing from my
guidebook's recommended route.
I'm making a long ascent,
which takes me via Interlaken
ever upwards through the Alps,
towards Europe's highest railway
station, Jungfraujoch.
The Swiss may have been
slow starters
when it came to the railways,
but as this journey's shown me,
they came to build ever more
impressive and daring lines.
I've come to Kleine Scheidegg
to experience
what might just be the apogee
of Swiss railway engineering.
I'm about to begin
the very last stage of my journey,
on the Jungfrau railway, which
Bradshaw's tells me, "Is 7 1/2 miles
long and was begun in 1896.
"The line ascends
from Kleine Scheidegg
"through narrow tunnels to
the Eismeer at 10,275 feet,
"the Monch at 10,995 feet
"and Jungfraujoch at 11,090 feet."
It's one of the epic railway
journeys of our continent.
This extraordinary line opened
just a year before the publication
of my 1913 guide and,
a century after it was built,
its final station remains
the highest in Europe.
It attracts over 750,000
visitors every year
and my companion for the final
ascent is Roland Fontanive.
So now our journey begins,
our epic journey to the top.
The audacious Jungfrau line project
was the brainchild
of Swiss entrepreneur
and passionate promoter of the
railways, Adolf Guyer-Zeller.
His brilliant plan was to harness
the power
of a local mountain river,
creating a state-of-the-art
electric cog railway to the summit.
The railway always was electric.
What were the old carriages like?
They was by wood, they was much
slower than this train.
Maybe 10 minutes more to go up.
Do you have any
of those original cars?
We have only one,
one here in Kleine Scheidegg.
You can rent for...
maybe for special days
or for honeymoon like this.
Quite an idea for a honeymoon,
to rent a 1912 car and come up here.
The hydroelectric plant
built for the railway
was one of the first in Europe.
But the biggest challenge
was building the line itself.
To reach the Jungfraujoch, tunnels
had to be bored through
two of the tallest peaks in
the Alps - the Eiger and the Monch.
And soon after leaving
Kleine Scheidegg,
the train is plunged into darkness.
When you hear you're going
to go up a mountain,
you don't expect it to be an
underground railway experience,
but it is, isn't it? Yes.
Seven of the line's nine kilometres
are in tunnel,
but beyond them is some
of Europe's best alpine scenery.
Panoramic windows carved
into the rock at each station
provide passengers with views
that make your jaw drop,
over features such as the Eismeer,
or ice sea.
Very impressive.
This is the ice sea here, is it?
Yes, that's correct, yes.
And so this the Eiger
now going up above us.
That's the south face
of the Eiger here.
And you see how the glacier
goes down to Grindelwald.
It's really beautiful
and impressive isn't it?
When the line was first proposed,
there were concerns that ascending
to this altitude at speed
was a risk to health.
Guyer-Zeller even
commissioned a medical report
to allay people's fears.
And, approaching the summit, you can
understand why they were worried.
Well, Roland, we're here. I can
really feel it in my breathing.
I'm having to take long breaths.
I'd better walk rather slowly,
I think.
Yes, and welcome to Jungfraujoch,
top of Europe.
Thank you.
So here I am at 11,333 feet
at the Jungfraujoch,
that is to say,
the saddle of the Jungfrau mountain.
This is nicknamed The Top of Europe.
After all, it is about
three times as high
as any piece of land
in the United Kingdom.
The climax of the long journey
to the top is a visit
to the Sphinx building, perched on a
rock 117 metres above the station.
Tourists come
for the spectacular views
but ever since the 1930s,
the visiting crowds have shared
the mountain-top with scientists.
The High Alpine research station
is today looked after
by two custodian-couples
and for Maria and Urs Otz,
this inhospitable spot
is a part-time home.
Hello, Maria, I'm Michael.
Hi, Michael.
Hello, Michael. Lovely to see you.
At first, scientists came here to
research high-altitude medicine
and astronomy, but recent work has
helped to document climate change
and charted the impact of the
Icelandic volcanic eruption in 2010.
Maria and Urs send daily
weather observations
to Zurich from their remarkable
home in the sky.
So, this is our terrace.
This is absolutely divine.
Your terrace, yes.
A very special terrace.
And this fantastic valley,
what is this?
That's the Aletsch glacier.
It's a huge glacier.
And the place you see there, there
are coming three glaciers together.
The deepness of the glacier
there is about 900 metres.
900 metres?!
Yes, and that's the longest
glacier of the Alps.
It's about 23 kilometres long.
That is awe-inspiring.
As I marvel at what must be one of
Europe's most spine-tingling vistas,
I can't think of a more fitting end
to my Swiss railway adventure.
Here, at the top of Europe,
cutting edge science
and technology are juxtaposed
with the raw beauty of the Alps.
Switzerland is a country
of exceptions.
It lies at the heart
of our continent
and yet it isn't a member
of the European Union.
Its rail engineers
helped to make it special
by taming this wild landscape.
Where else by 1913
could you have constructed
an electric underground railway
to a station above the clouds?
Next time, I'll experience
fin de siecle opulence
in the Low Countries.
Feels like you want
to take a bath in it.
Yeah, you would like
to take a bath in it.
Following my guidebook...
It's like a railway bible.
..To the Western Front
where from 1914,
tourists were replaced
with soldiers,
facing the horrors of the trenches.
He was one of the 72,000 people
who never had a grave.
Subtitles by Red Bee Media
railway adventure,
that will take me
across the heart of Europe.
I'll be using this,
my Bradshaw's
Continental Railway Guide,
dated 1913, which opened up an
exotic world of foreign travel
for the British tourist.
It told travellers where to go,
what to see and how to navigate
the thousands of miles of tracks
criss-crossing the continent.
Now, a century later,
I'm using my copy to reveal an era
of great optimism and energy,
where technology, industry, science
and the arts were flourishing.
I want to rediscover that lost
Europe that in 1913
couldn't know that its way of life
would shortly be swept aside
by the advent of war.
Armed with my 1913 railway guide,
I'm following in the footsteps
of early 20th century travellers
and making five long
journeys across Europe.
Today, I'm exploring Switzerland,
whose remarkable railways
helped to make it a favourite
with Edwardian tourists.
Cheers.
Cheers.
I'll discover the cargo carried
on the country's first ever line...
Mmm...
wonderful!
Before heading
for the glorious Alps...
I've been lucky enough to experience
some very beautiful train journeys,
but this must be
one of the very best.
Where the British
left their mark on sport...
British people are sometimes
a little bit crazy.
..And literature...
Do you remember any
Sherlock Holmes stories?
HE HOWLS
And where astonishing
engineering feats
conquered the most
challenging peaks.
That's the longest
glacier of the Alps.
That is awe inspiring.
My Swiss adventure begins in Basel,
then traces a route outlined
in my guidebook,
via the industrial city of Zurich,
then south east to Chur.
From there, the famous
Glacier Express will carry me
through some of Switzerland's
most stunning alpine scenery,
before I turn north
to explore Lake Lucerne.
Finally, I'll make the
impressive railway ascent
to Jungfraujoch, Europe's
highest railway station.
It's clear from the dizzying
array of routes
and the lyrical descriptions
contained in my Bradshaw's
1913 Continental Railway Guide
that by the beginning
of the 20th century,
the railways had opened
Switzerland to tourists,
and the draw of what my guidebook
calls "the finest lake
and mountain scenery"
had made Switzerland one of the most
aspirational of destinations.
I shall be following one of my
guidebook's recommended routes
through this spectacular country,
but to reach my first stop,
I'm travelling on a French train,
along French tracks.
I'm heading for the Swiss
border city of Basel,
which, since medieval times,
has been a melting pot of
French, German and Swiss influences.
By 1913, it had also become
the nexus of a sprawling
continental railway network.
Bradshaw's tells me that Basel is
the key to Switzerland,
where several
international railway lines meet,
and the customs examinations
take place.
Here, the trains from Alsace,
where I've just come from, run in,
connecting with
the principal Swiss railways,
and although
I've come to a Swiss city,
this part of the station
is still officially France.
I'm unpicking the history
of this railway hub
with historian Martin Lengwiler.
Hello, Martin. Hello, Michael.
This is really a very
international place, isn't it?
I see French trains, Swiss trains,
German trains.
This is the meeting point
of the nations, isn't it?
That's true indeed and Basel has
a special place in the history
of the Swiss railway system
because it's the first town that has
been linked to any railway line
and it's still the only town in
Switzerland that has three stations
of three national origins.
Surprisingly,
the very first railway on Swiss soil
was actually built by the French.
In 1844, they constructed
a line from Strasbourg
to the Swiss border and proposed a
terminus within Basel's city limits.
But they got a lukewarm reception
from the ruling elite.
They were anxious because
of military reasons.
They were afraid that the French
would use the railway
to attack Basel with their troops.
That's quite surprising to us
because we now associate the Swiss
almost as much with railways
as we do with wristwatches
and clocks.
It's strange to think that the Swiss
were reluctant to have a railway.
Railways got off
to a slow start across the country.
Thanks to Switzerland's
mountainous landscape,
late industrialisation and its
decentralised political system,
the first home-grown line
wasn't built until 1847,
by which time Britain
had over 2,000 miles of tracks.
Basel finally got
a Swiss station in 1854,
and the Germans soon followed
with one of their own.
Today, the French and Swiss termini
share a site.
But the French station
has extra-territorial status -
so to join the Swiss network,
I'm crossing an international
frontier.
The murals are inviting us
to visit the rest of Switzerland.
A lot of alpine scenery here.
That's true, the lake of Lucerne,
the Berne Alps,
this is designed for tourists,
of course.
Very appropriate for me,
because I'll be visiting
scenery quite like this.
Before I continue my journey,
I'm venturing out to
explore this multicultural city,
that straddles the River Rhine.
Just a year after my guidebook
was published,
life in picturesque Basel
was disrupted,
as Switzerland's neighbours were
drawn into the First World war.
But for Edwardian readers
of my Bradshaw's,
this city's hub location
made it the perfect pit-stop.
In the days before air travel
brought us jet-lag
and climate shock,
guidebooks were concerned to
treat travellers gently.
My Bradshaw's says,
"Basel is recommended
"as an intermediate station
for the change of climate between
"the warm south and the low-lying
north and alpine districts.
"It offers its visitors
manifold points of pleasure."
I think I might
just stick to a meal.
Followers of my 1913 guide
would have made a beeline
for the beautiful historic centre.
It's where I've come to see
how French, German
and Swiss traditions have
influenced Basel's cuisine.
We have here the veal, Basel style,
and this is the rosti, it's typical.
Rosti, typically Swiss,
thank you very much indeed.
Bon appetit!
Thank you.
I think Swiss-German farmers
used to make it for their breakfast
and during World War I,
the term "Rostigraben" was invented,
the ditch based on the rosti,
which separated those
of French and German sympathy
and it's an expression
that's still used today
to express the cultural divide -
the Rostigraben.
Much as I'd like to stay
and explore Basel,
with almost 300 miles to cover
on my 1913 guidebook's recommended
route, there's no time to waste.
And so Switzerland opens before me.
From a slow start,
the Swiss railway network
has become one of the most
admired in the world.
And I'm going on a journey
of discovery to find out why.
The quality of Swiss trains
is as you would imagine -
beautifully clean,
delightfully air-conditioned,
and this is first class.
Spacious and luxurious.
And even second class
is absolutely satisfactory.
I'm following in the footsteps
of Edwardian tourists,
but I'm about to delve into Europe's
much more distant past.
Hello.
Hello, may I see your ticket?
I'm going to Brugg. Thank you.
Thank you very much.
You're welcome, bye-bye.
In the early 20th century,
ancient history was a hot topic,
as British archaeologists blazed
a trail across the globe.
Inspired by their exotic
foreign discoveries,
readers of my 1913
guide would have been tantalised
by the description of my next stop.
I'll be getting off this train
at Brugg, and my Bradshaw's says,
"A little to the north of Brugg,
"the Aare river
is joined by the Reuss,
"coming from the lakes
of Zug and Lucerne,
"and at the point of junction
"once stood the ancient
Roman town of Vindonissa,
"scarcely a trace of which
now exists."
I'm hoping that in the 100 years
since my guidebook was published
more traces have been unearthed.
In fact, by 1913,
pioneering archaeologists,
working in the village of Windisch,
just outside Brugg,
had already begun
to reveal what is today
a nearly fully excavated
Roman legionary camp.
It was the Romans' key military
stronghold in Switzerland.
I'm exploring with archaeologist,
Jurgen Trumm.
I'm amazed by what I've found here
because my Bradshaw's guide tells me
there aren't many traces
left of Vindonissa.
When did people first become
aware of what they had here?
I think the beginning
of the archaeology
was linked with the railway,
the railway from Basel to Zurich.
The mid-19th century
railway engineers
unearthed a Roman rubbish dump,
filled with bones, ceramics,
coins and wooden objects.
Then in the 1900s,
the local community put things
on a formal footing.
They founded an archaeological
society,
and, in 1912, set up a museum
proudly to display their heritage.
The 20th century was also
a high period for archaeology,
I think of some
of the great discoveries
that excited the public so much,
like Tutankhamen in the 1920s.
Yes, in Switzerland, archaeology
was en vogue at the beginning
of the 20th century,
so people dig the Roman ruins,
they dig the ruins
from the Stone and Bronze Ages.
The work begun a century ago
continues today.
Whenever a building is planned
in the modern towns of Windisch
and Brugg, the archaeologists go in
first to check for buried treasures.
What's the most exciting
thing you've found?
So, a very nice one is that here,
dice made out of bone,
looks really like today's dice.
That's absolutely wonderful.
And these markings
are the original markings?
It's incised into the bone.
Incised into the bone,
isn't that beautiful?
It's amazing to think that all this
lay beneath the feet of the
Edwardian tourists who came here.
OK.
That's OK, Joachim.
Off we go.
'Before I leave, a modern invention
'gives me a new perspective
on this remarkable site.'
We are going to have
a wonderful view. Yes, indeed.
I'm looking out at a Roman world
and I'm seeing it
as no Roman ever did.
I'm now continuing along the railway
route recommended in my 1913 guide.
I'm bound for a place which
attracted Edwardian tourists
concerned for their health.
I shall be disembarking at Baden,
which my Bradshaw's tells me is,
"A picturesque town near Zurich,
on the River Limmat,
"noted for its hot mineral springs,
"most beneficial in cases of gout,
rheumatism, chronic catarrhs etc."
I'm here in search
of a local speciality
which is probably
a bit less healthy,
but which is inextricably
linked with the railways.
Baden has the honour
of being the starting point
for the first fully Swiss railway,
which, from 1847, carried wealthy
Zurich folk to their water cure.
But soon after it opened,
the line gained an unusual nickname.
Even today, it's known
as the Spanisch-Brotli-Bahn,
after a local sweet treat.
Hello, Michael.
A warm welcome to you in Baden.
Thank you very much.
It's a beautiful town,
I'm very pleased to be here.
Tour guide Beatrice Candrian
knows the story.
I'm half Spanish
and I understand that, in Baden,
you have a pastry
which is called a Spanisch brotli.
That's true. What is this?
Well, it's a very nice
fluffy pastry.
We don't quite know the origin.
We think that a Spanish baker
just travelled through Baden
and he brought this recipe here.
The cake became
a much-loved delicacy
with the people of Zurich,
15 miles away.
And when the railway was built
between Zurich and Baden,
I suppose that helped people
in Zurich
to come to Baden
and buy their brotli.
It sure did.
It helped mostly the servants,
because, before the opening
of the railroad line,
the servants had to walk through
the darkness of the night
along the Limmat,
two to three hours,
to buy them here very early
in the morning
and to bring them back
for their breakfast,
so you can imagine that
those servants were mostly happy
when they could board the train.
By the mid-20th century, these rich
pastries had fallen out of favour,
but, five years ago, a few
local bakeries revived the recipe.
Now, Michael, here,
meet, please, Benny,
the baker of our Spanisch brotli.
Benny, hello.
'I'm going to learn how
to make the modern version.'
What have you put in there?
Hazelnuts, carrots,
sugar and persipan.
Wow, that sounds very, very sweet.
'To keep the puff pastry perfect,
'spreading the mixture
requires a light touch.'
This is the tricky bit,
getting up to the limit.
Mine has rather the look
of a Swiss mountain range,
just too many valleys.
Here we go...
Ooooh!
Oh, no! Oh, Benny!
My edges are all broken, argh.
No-one will know,
just patch that up.
'The Spanisch brotli
are cut into individual cakes.'
Oh, you need a steady hand for this.
First one is a bit squashed.
The second one is going to be great.
Ah, that one's brilliant.
Then 18 minutes later,
it's time for the acid test.
Mmm, they are good.
The pastry is great, isn't it?
Very fluffy pastry.
Fluffy and light, yes.
Well, they taste OK to me, but I
want to know whether they're worthy
of their railway namesake, so I'm
taking my efforts to the streets.
These are Spanish brotli.
Have you ever heard...?
Ah, Spanisch-Brotli-Bahn.
Yes. The Spanisch-Brotli-Bahn?
I know, but not really.
Spanish-Brotli-Bahn.
Ja, that we know.
Spanisch-Brotli-Bahn.
What was the Spanisch-Brotli-Bahn?
A train between Baden and Zurich.
Yeah? The first train
in Switzerland.
Would you like to try it? Ja, yes.
Go ahead, tell me what
you think. Have a bite.
Ja.
Mmm, wonderful.
Yes, I try it for you.
Yeah, just a favour to me.
Yes, sure.
Very good.
It's delicious.
It's good. Is it good?
Tastes like one.
Do you think it's worth a journey
from Zurich to Baden to buy that?
Yeah, why not!
You can take it on your train,
then your train will be
the Spanisch-Brotli-Bahn.
That's it. Thank you.
Thank you. Bye.
I'm now swapping my Spanisch brotli
for the Spanisch-Brotli line,
to head to the next stop
on my Edwardian itinerary.
I'm now travelling the route
of the first railway
ever built in Switzerland,
towards Zurich,
which my Bradshaw's tells me, "Is
the capital of the canton of Zurich,
"and commercially the most
important town in Switzerland."
I think of it for its financiers,
the so-called Gnomes of Zurich,
but it also has a substantial
history as an engineering town.
Zurich's entrepreneurs
were at the heart
of the Swiss Industrial Revolution,
and the British traveller
arriving here in 1913 could marvel
at the city's many textile mills.
Bradshaw's comments that,
"The principal manufacture
is concerned with silk,
"but the engineering trade
is also extensive,"
and at the beginning
of the 20th century those skills
were being applied to railways.
To the average Briton in 1913,
trains meant steam.
But a trip to Switzerland might mean
an encounter with an exciting
new technology - electricity.
Railway engineers had experimented
with electric traction
from the 1840s, but around
the turn of the 20th century
electricity was to transform
European travel.
I've come to the suburb of Oerlikon,
to hear how a Zurich firm played
a leading role in the story.
My guide is railway enthusiast,
Albert Schoch.
Hello, Albert. Hello, Michael.
This is the most
extraordinary place.
It has the feel of an industrial
building but the look of a park.
What is it?
It's referring to these old buildings
here of Maschinenfabrik Oerlikon
and it shows the dimensions
of an old assembly hall.
Today, this is a peaceful
public park
but the Maschinenfabrik Oerlikon,
or MFO,
was once one of Zurich's biggest
employers, with over 2,000 workers.
It started out as a metal-works but
then, in the early 20th century,
the world's first electric
locomotive,
using alternating current,
was constructed here.
And these new trains proved ideally
suited to Swiss conditions.
Switzerland is very demanding
territory for locomotives,
very high mountains, very low
temperatures, very steep slopes,
and MFO was able to meet the need.
Yes, Michael.
Electric trains were cleaner
in Switzerland's many tunnels
than smoky steam engines
and the country's abundant supply
of hydroelectric power
made them cheap to run.
One of MFO's greatest achievements
was when it designed a locomotive
for the infamous St Gotthard line,
one of the steepest in the country.
They electrified
the Saint Gotthard line in 1921
and MFO gave the
solution with the famous Crocodile,
the CE68 or BE68 and a really
powerful machine, never seen before.
And this was not just a locomotive
for Switzerland,
this was a really outstanding
object of admiration.
After the triumph of the Crocodile,
MFO went from strength to strength.
But in the 1990s, its railway
activities were outsourced,
and by the year 2000,
the factory was finally shut down
and eventually dismantled.
The only part to survive was
the old administrative building.
So, Albert, why have you brought me
to a building site
next to the railway line here?
Michael, this beautiful brick stone
building from 1889
used to stand on this position
where we are now.
Do you mean they demolished it
and rebuilt it over there?
No, not at all.
They moved it, 60 metres westwards.
They are enlarging
the station of Oerlikon,
so they had to decide
to demolish or to move.
Amazingly, rather than
lose this last piece
of the company's industrial history,
the building was moved,
lock stock and barrel,
at a cost of over £8 million.
After 10 months of preparation,
on 22nd May 2012,
it was carried along special tracks,
at a rate of four metres per hour.
Clearly the people here
are very proud of MFO's history
and clearly the Swiss are still
engineers of world class.
Yes, you may say.
Directed by my 1913 guide,
early 20th century visitors
would have bypassed
Zurich's industrial outskirts
and headed straight for the centre
and I'm now following
in their footsteps
to see why it receives
such a glowing recommendation.
My Bradshaw's comments that,
"The older parts remain in places
quaint and picturesque,
"while the modern quarters
are spacious and handsome."
With the main station
behind me, Hauptbahnhof,
and this being Bahnhofstrasse,
this is part of the modern Zurich
and it's time to take a tram.
In the cradle of modern
electric trains,
what better way
could there be to travel?
While some British cities have
recently restored a tram line
or two, most still regret
the fact that they did away
with their tram systems
many years ago.
Look at Zurich's map -
this is a place for tram lovers.
My 1913 guide directs me south,
towards the shore
of the famous Lake Zurich.
My Bradshaw's says that from the
quays, "There's a beautiful view
"over the lake
and the surrounding country."
I find Zurich a stunning city,
made all the prettier
by pink evening light.
The sunset's my cue to find a hotel
and as usual my guidebook
has the answer.
Well, for my night's stay in Zurich
I turn to my Bradshaw's Guide,
which has an advertisement
for the Savoy Hotel.
"First class family hotel,
"apartments with bath and toilette,
"restaurant Francais, American bar."
Sounds ideal.
I'm checking in with manager,
Manfred Horger.
Manfred. Evening,
great pleasure meeting you.
Great to see you.
You stay, in fact, in the hotel
which has been the first hotel
ever built in Zurich.
So, how old is the Savoy?
It was opened
on the 24th December, 1838.
American bars first opened in Europe
in the late 19th century
and readers of my guidebook
would have known that any hotel
advertising one would serve
fashionable US-style cocktails.
It's good to know that my Bradshaw's
could point the thirsty cognoscenti
in the direction
of a perfect Martini.
Manfred, cheers. Cheers.
You know, after a long and busy day,
I was feeling a little shaken,
but the beauty of your hotel
has left me stirred.
Thank you, that's very kind of you.
Fortified by a night
of Edwardian-era luxury,
it's time for me to continue
along the route recommended
by my 1913 guide.
But before I leave, I want to get
an insight into this country's
famously efficient rail service.
Zurich is, of course, Switzerland's
busiest railway station.
Today I've been given privileged
access to the control tower.
It's a complex operation,
for no terminus in Europe has more
trains arriving and departing.
From Zurich, you can travel directly
to all corners of the continent.
3,000 trains
and around 350,000 passengers
pass through this vital
railway hub every day.
And the nerve centre
of the operation is this tower
that looms over
the station's 24 platforms.
Inside, the banks of screens
are watched over
by a team of highly-trained staff.
Hello, I'm Michael.
Hello, Michael, nice to meet you.
I notice you're all very calm.
It's a wonderful atmosphere
in here, actually.
Yeah, but that can be different
when we have...delays.
I didn't know there WERE delays in
Switzerland. This is news to me.
SHE LAUGHS
Yes!
But we are talking about delay
when a train is three minutes late.
The Swiss reputation for precision
is maintained
by the latest technology
and faultless attention to detail.
Well, here, you just
see the station so well.
And you see it's now 10 o'clock,
2 minutes after 10 o'clock,
and all the trains
in Zurich Main Station,
they come some minutes
before full and half hour
and they leave some minutes after.
So now all the trains are leaving
and if you see in 10 minutes,
10-15, the whole station
will be empty.
Really? And it's every hour
exactly the same thing.
That is the secret
of Swiss time keeping!
Exactly.
It's my cue to return
to the platform
and recommence my route along the
tracks of Edwardian travellers.
The signal box is looking after us
every kilometre of the way.
I'm leaving the city behind and
heading towards the Swiss landscapes
promised in my 1913 guide.
I've been lucky enough to experience
some very beautiful train journeys,
but this one, along
the southern shore of Lake Zurich,
must be one of the very best.
My Bradshaw's paints
a wonderful picture, saying,
"On either hand, sloping meadows
rise from the water's edge,
"the higher lands being clothed
with vineyards and orchards".
I'm hoping it's just the first
of many views that will amaze.
My journey across Switzerland
now enters a new phase.
I've left behind the big city of
Zurich and I'm headed for the Alps.
I can trace my journey
on the pull-out map.
My train started in Zurich,
moved along the southern
shores of Lake Zurich,
and then it will
go down towards Chur.
From Chur, one of Europe's
most scenic train journeys
will carry me west.
At Goschenen, I'll join
the engineering triumph,
the Gotthard line,
before crossing by boat to Lucerne.
I'll then stop off at Meiringen's
famous Reichenbach Falls,
en route to a station 3,500 metres
above sea level.
Danke!
What better to accompany
the Swiss mountains
than a rugged range
of Swiss cheeses?
Nowadays, it's winter sports
that bring people to the Alps
and I'm on my way to discover
how that story began
in the age of my 1913 guide.
I'm changing train in Chur.
My Bradshaw's tells me it's
"The capital of the canton
of the Grisons.
"1,935 feet above sea,
"the Curia Rhaetorum
of the Romans,
"in an attractive situation
on the River Plessur.
"In the winter, skating and skiing,"
while in summer, like today,
there's no snow to be seen,
but this important railway junction
is gateway to a lovely ski region
and British tourists played an
important part in its development.
To find out more, I'm taking
one of the most spectacular trips
that the nation has to offer -
the Glacier Express.
The moment you get on the Glacier
Express, it has a special feel,
because, of course,
there's so much more light
because of these windows
all along the roof line
and it looks like everyone on board
is going to be tucking
into a very good lunch.
The Glacier Express links two
of Switzerland's most famous
ski resorts, St Moritz and Zermatt.
The complete trip takes over
seven hours, winning the service
the reputation as the slowest
express train in the world.
These panoramic tourist trains
have been in use for only 30 years,
but the line was completed
back in the 1930s,
when it first began to carry
eager skiers to the Alps.
Hello, Guido. Hello, Mike.
How lovely to see you. Have a seat.
Thank you.
'Guido Ratti is joining me
'to explain how the winter holiday
was born right here in Switzerland.'
British tourists.
They are really the founder
of winter tourism and winter sports.
Which is very surprising,
because we have really no mountains
and very little snow.
Yes, but if you allow,
British people are very special,
sometimes a little bit crazy
and they like to have action.
Until the 1860s,
British thrill-seekers
contented themselves
with summer hiking trips
through the Alpine scenery.
But then an enterprising hotelier
from nearby St Moritz,
keen to extend the season,
had a brainwave.
We had the famous bet
of Mr Johannes Badrutt,
he owned the Hotel Kulm.
And he made a bet with
his English guests -
they should come in winter
and he promised them
if they come in winter
and they don't like it,
he would pay the journey
from London to St Moritz and back.
I was told they came
at Christmas time
and left St Moritz only after Easter.
They probably did in those days,
they were people of leisure.
Sold on the idea
of Switzerland in the winter,
the British soon took
to skating and skiing,
but that wasn't enough
for the biggest adrenaline addicts.
First they came, of course,
for skiing, but as British people
are very special and very sporty,
they founded the skeleton sport,
the bob sport. Even horse racing in
St Moritz was due to British people.
Horse racing in St Moritz?
Yes, of course, on the frozen lake,
we have a very special race.
We have a full-blood horse,
without jockey,
but a skier in his back
and this is a very exciting race.
A racehorse towing a skier -
fantastic.
Some of the hair-raising pursuits
founded by British tourists
continue today, including
the infamous Cresta run.
But winter sports weren't
just for the adventurous few.
In the early 20th century,
British entrepreneur Henry Lunn
organised the first package
ski holidays
and, by 1913, the trains were
bringing over 1,000 winter tourists
to the Alps every year.
My Bradshaw's guide of 1913 has
a lot of timetables in it
and I noticed that in 1913
you could get on the train in London
and it lists all the way down
to getting off in St Moritz.
That's amazing, isn't it?
That's true. That was
a very special tourist train
and you went, after
a journey of 24 hours,
you were from London in St Moritz.
Yes. It's extraordinary, isn't it?
100 years ago it was just 24 hours
from one world to a completely
different universe. That's true.
It's astonishing to think that
downhill skiing in Switzerland
is less than 150 years old.
But travelling on this
extraordinary train today,
it's easy to see why people want to
enjoy this landscape all year round.
It's a new day, and I can't wait
to get started on the next section
of my guidebook's
recommended route.
My Bradshaw's Guide is breathless
about the next stage of my journey.
"Limits of space preclude
any attempt
"to describe the journey
from Goschenen to Fluelen,
"as the train glides
through engineering triumphs
"that constitute
the Saint Gotthard line."
I fear that I too
may be lost for words,
as clearly I experience one of
the great train rides of my life.
When the Gotthard line
opened in 1882,
it marked a turning point in this
country's railway history.
WHISTLE BLOWS
Although it wasn't the first
to conquer the Swiss Alps,
it did involve building
the world's longest tunnel,
at a cost of 200 lives.
Between Goschenen and my next stop,
the line has to drop
over 2,000 feet,
and the engineer came up
with a clever way
to keep the gradient
as shallow as possible.
To make the descent, the train has
to go through a series of loops,
as my Bradshaw's says,
"With a tunnel and a bridge
every few yards."
These are the engineering triumphs
and I'm going to leap around
from side to side of the train
trying to catch a glimpse of where
I'm going and where I've been.
Thanks to the line's ingenious
design, the scenery appears to shift
around you as the train corkscrews
ever deeper into the valley.
So that pretty church,
the church of Wassen...
appeared now on my right.
I believe we are going to see it
on different sides of the train
as we wind our way down.
How did that happen?
In a few moments the church
has switched sides.
It was on the right,
now it's on the left.
The Gotthard line shows just
how far Swiss railways had come
by the turn of the 20th century.
The sheer vision and ambition
demonstrated by blasting a line
through the towering Alps
astonishes me.
It put Switzerland at the heart
of the European railway network.
It's brought me to Fluelen,
where I'm swapping the train
for another form of transport.
So, my Bradshaw's tells me
that here at Fluelen,
"We embark upon the southern arm
of Lake Lucerne,
"and many pleasant excursions may be
made by the steamer services."
If I'm going to continue
to enjoy this wonderful scenery,
it's time for me to get aboard.
I'm taking a boat trip from
the southernmost tip of the lake
right to the top
and my 1913 guidebook
is packed with landmarks
to look out for on the way.
My Bradshaw's says,
"As we leave Fluelen, on the left,
"in the hollow between
the peaks of the Uri-Rotstock,
"a glacier is plainly seen.
"And in a line from the glacier,
"on the lake's shore, is the
dynamite factory of Isleten."
I'll give you a prize if you can
think why there's a dynamite factory
in such a noble and peaceful place.
Dynamite was invented in the
19th century and was a vital tool
for the railway engineers carving
new routes through the mountains.
The factory here was established
by dynamite's inventor,
the famous chemist, Alfred Nobel.
His explosives were later
used extensively in war,
but he wanted to be remembered
for something more positive.
On his death,
Alfred Nobel left a legacy,
which was to form a prize
to be awarded to those who did,
"The most or the best work
for fraternity amongst nations,
"for the abolition or reduction
of standing armies
"and for the promotion
of peace congresses."
My 1913 Bradshaw's lyrically
describes Lake Lucerne as,
"A narrow sheet of water,
with lofty, wall-like,
forest-clad mountains,
"rising sheer out of the water
on either side"
Its beauty is today
in no way diminished,
but not everyone
on board seems to appreciate it.
Hello, gentlemen. Hello.
May I sit down for a second? Yeah.
So...
you're travelling on the boat
through this beautiful scenery,
but you're playing cards.
Why don't you look at the scenery?
We know it.
Ah!
Do you travel very frequently, then?
No, we live over there.
Why are you on the boat
if you know it so well?
We are a carnival group
and every year
we make a little journey...
The locals may be blase, but I can
just imagine the wonder
that British Edwardian tourists
must have felt experiencing
this landscape.
And I'm now approaching one of their
most favoured holiday spots.
Bradshaw's says that,
"Lucerne is perhaps
the most beautifully-situated
tourist centre in Europe.
"Surrounded on three sides
by exquisitely wooded hills
"with a magnificent prospect
over a small arm of the lake."
And to judge by the pages
of advertisements for hotels,
it was, at the beginning
of the 20th century,
a very popular tourist resort.
But I'm here in pursuit
of one of my personal heroes
from the 19th century.
In the 1860s,
the musical genius Richard Wagner
joined the growing numbers
of wealthy families
drawn to Lucerne's
stunning waterfront.
He made his home
in the suburb of Tribschen,
in this luxurious lakeside villa.
In 1913, fans making the pilgrimage
here were disappointed,
as it was still a private house.
Luckily for me, in the 1930s,
the city of Lucerne
finally responded
to the flood of visitors
by turning it into a museum.
I'm meeting the museum's manger,
Yvonne Bieder.
Hi. Lovely to see you.
I'm quite a fan of the opera
composer Richard Wagner.
What years was he living
in this house?
He spent six years of his life
in this house from 1866 to '72.
Were these quite happy
years for the composer?
Very happy years, yes.
He said they were the happiest
of his life.
German-born Wagner moved
to Switzerland from Munich
and was closely followed by his
married lover, Cosima von Bulow.
Two of their three children
were born here
and, in 1870, he finally
married his mistress in Lucerne.
Wagner is best known for music
that's big and loud
but this stunning setting
and the birth of his son, Siegfried,
inspired a dreamy kind of work.
So, as a surprise
for her 33rd birthday,
Richard Wagner
composed a very nice piece of music
called Siegfried's Idyll,
and it was performed for the very
first time on this staircase.
He was standing exactly here
and conducting,
and all the musicians
standing upwards
and downwards the staircase
and around him.
And Cosima woke to hear
this orchestra playing.
Yes, she was so moved.
I know a lot of people wonder
what surprise birthday present
they should give their wives.
Now they know -
they just have to compose a piece
of music and bring in an orchestra.
Yes, exactly!
Wagner's birthday composition
was originally entitled
the Triebschen Idyll,
which was how he referred
to his lakeside home.
And I'm being treated to
a piano duet version of the work,
performed
on a very special instrument.
The piece is now being played
on Wagner's piano.
Yes, his original Erard grand piano,
standing in the same corner as the
period he was living in this house.
Thank you so very much.
I enjoyed that enormously.
You know many people think of Wagner
as being loud and bombastic
and tuneless
and yet this is very, very soft
and loving and very melodious.
This is kind of Wagner
for Wagner-haters.
I can see why
this most stunning of Swiss cities
inspired Wagner's gentlest music.
I'm now taking
to the tracks again,
to make one last journey
before nightfall.
Every year, thousands of tourists
come to Switzerland
on railway holidays
and it's great to be among
so many like-minded travellers.
You've got your map of Switzerland
out, are you doing a grand tour?
We are, we are trying to InterRail
the old railway lines
and boats of Switzerland.
You're a man after my own heart,
doing it all by railway.
Are you an aficionado of trains?
I wouldn't say so, but we went
InterRailing 20 years ago
and we wanted to do it again
with our kids and see the changes.
And there are some. It's
not as easy as it used to be.
No? Switzerland, you can still
hop on and hop off,
but the rest of Europe,
you really have to pre-plan
and do your reservations.
Ah, yes.
So it's not as easy.
But Switzerland is a good place
for railways, isn't it?
Oh, it's excellent.
After a long day's travel,
my 1913 guidebook has led me
to a dramatic Alpine valley and,
I hope, my bed for the night.
I've spent the night in Meiringen,
at the Hotel du Sauvage,
barely changed since 1880.
I am allegedly not the first
Englishman to stay in this hostelry.
"In this hotel, called by Sir Arthur
Conan Doyle The Englischer Hof,
"Mr Sherlock Holmes
and Dr Watson spent the night
of 3rd-4th May, 1891."
I can't wait to find out
what happened next.
Out on the streets,
the Sherlock Holmes
connection is obvious,
but I wonder whether
visitors to Meiringen
know why Britain's favourite
detective will be for ever linked
to this Swiss town.
Do you know about Sherlock Holmes?
The detective? Yes. Sherlock Holmes?
Ja, wir kennen das.
Ah-ah!
Do you remember any Sherlock Holmes
stories?
HE HOWLS
He always had the...
Erm, pipe?
ALL: Chipuk.
Ah-ha!
Ja, das ist ganz typisch
Sherlock Holmes.
Yeah. Ganz typisch Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock Holmes?
The Reichenbach Falls.
He died... He's dead. ..Here.
In 1893,
Arthur Conan Doyle famously chose
the Reichenbach Falls,
just outside Meiringen, as the
setting for Sherlock Holmes's death.
And ever since then, fans have been
visiting the scene of the crime.
Reaching the spot on foot
entails a gruelling climb,
but since 1899, there's been
a more restful route to the top.
My Bradshaw's says,
"On the south side of Meiringen,
"in the summer,
the Reichenbach Falls
"are illuminated by electricity.
"An electric rail runs from near
the Hotel Reichenbach."
No mention there of the famous
fictional detective.
I think because every reader
knew about Sherlock Holmes,
and the Reichenbach Falls
were a notorious household name.
Conan Doyle decided
on the Reichenbach Falls
as the scene of Holmes's
shocking demise
after visiting them
on a summer holiday.
Guy Marriott is from the
Sherlock Holmes Society of London.
Guy! Oh, Michael.
Hello. How good to see you.
Nothing prepared me
for the Reichenbach Falls,
they are absolutely tremendous.
No wonder that Conan Doyle
set his melodrama here.
They are looking
particularly good today.
They are looking as Conan Doyle
would have seen them
when he was here
in the summer of 1893.
What had led Conan Doyle
to kill off Sherlock Holmes?
Conan Doyle was tired of the
character of Sherlock Holmes.
He had been writing monthly stories
for The Strand magazine.
He was finding it difficult
to think of good plots
and he felt that Sherlock distracted
him from more important work.
As in many of his Holmes stories,
Conan Doyle's intended last case
for the great detective, The Final
Problem, features a railway journey.
Like all good Victorians, Holmes
and Watson knew the best way
to plan a trip by train.
Holmes, more particularly Watson,
made very good use of Bradshaw's,
didn't they?
Yes, they did, they had
in their rooms at 221b Baker Street,
a copy of each month's
Bradshaw's railway timetable
and on several occasions
in the stories,
it's recorded that Holmes
instructs Watson to check Bradshaw
in order find the best time
of a train
to whichever destination they need
to go to because a case has arisen.
No journey can begin
without Bradshaw.
In The Final Problem,
Holmes and Watson travel by train
further afield.
Staying ahead of criminal
mastermind Moriarty,
they journey to Switzerland
and decide to make the steep climb
to the Reichenbach Falls.
But just before they reach a narrow
ledge at the edge of the torrent,
Dr Watson receives a message
calling him back to the hotel.
When Watson finally returns,
having discovered, of course, that
it's a hoax that has taken him back,
he finds no trace
of either Holmes or Moriarty,
instead only a hand-written note
from Holmes,
saying that Moriarty
has found him here
and they are going to fight out
the issues between them.
Watson concludes that both men
have plunged to their deaths,
and his devastation was shared
by Holmes's many fans.
It is said, although this
is probably apocryphal,
that clerks in the City went to work
wearing black crepe armbands,
in memory of the great detective.
A moment's silence, I think.
It seems appropriate.
But Holmes's body hadn't been found
and that left readers
with a sliver of hope.
Despite Conan Doyle's resolve,
he was eventually persuaded
to revive his hero
and went on writing cases
until his own death in 1930.
Like Sherlock Holmes,
I rely on Bradshaw's.
Unlike Sherlock Holmes, I've made
it back from the Reichenbach Falls
to continue my journey.
I'm now embarking on the final leg
of my Swiss trip
and I'm departing from my
guidebook's recommended route.
I'm making a long ascent,
which takes me via Interlaken
ever upwards through the Alps,
towards Europe's highest railway
station, Jungfraujoch.
The Swiss may have been
slow starters
when it came to the railways,
but as this journey's shown me,
they came to build ever more
impressive and daring lines.
I've come to Kleine Scheidegg
to experience
what might just be the apogee
of Swiss railway engineering.
I'm about to begin
the very last stage of my journey,
on the Jungfrau railway, which
Bradshaw's tells me, "Is 7 1/2 miles
long and was begun in 1896.
"The line ascends
from Kleine Scheidegg
"through narrow tunnels to
the Eismeer at 10,275 feet,
"the Monch at 10,995 feet
"and Jungfraujoch at 11,090 feet."
It's one of the epic railway
journeys of our continent.
This extraordinary line opened
just a year before the publication
of my 1913 guide and,
a century after it was built,
its final station remains
the highest in Europe.
It attracts over 750,000
visitors every year
and my companion for the final
ascent is Roland Fontanive.
So now our journey begins,
our epic journey to the top.
The audacious Jungfrau line project
was the brainchild
of Swiss entrepreneur
and passionate promoter of the
railways, Adolf Guyer-Zeller.
His brilliant plan was to harness
the power
of a local mountain river,
creating a state-of-the-art
electric cog railway to the summit.
The railway always was electric.
What were the old carriages like?
They was by wood, they was much
slower than this train.
Maybe 10 minutes more to go up.
Do you have any
of those original cars?
We have only one,
one here in Kleine Scheidegg.
You can rent for...
maybe for special days
or for honeymoon like this.
Quite an idea for a honeymoon,
to rent a 1912 car and come up here.
The hydroelectric plant
built for the railway
was one of the first in Europe.
But the biggest challenge
was building the line itself.
To reach the Jungfraujoch, tunnels
had to be bored through
two of the tallest peaks in
the Alps - the Eiger and the Monch.
And soon after leaving
Kleine Scheidegg,
the train is plunged into darkness.
When you hear you're going
to go up a mountain,
you don't expect it to be an
underground railway experience,
but it is, isn't it? Yes.
Seven of the line's nine kilometres
are in tunnel,
but beyond them is some
of Europe's best alpine scenery.
Panoramic windows carved
into the rock at each station
provide passengers with views
that make your jaw drop,
over features such as the Eismeer,
or ice sea.
Very impressive.
This is the ice sea here, is it?
Yes, that's correct, yes.
And so this the Eiger
now going up above us.
That's the south face
of the Eiger here.
And you see how the glacier
goes down to Grindelwald.
It's really beautiful
and impressive isn't it?
When the line was first proposed,
there were concerns that ascending
to this altitude at speed
was a risk to health.
Guyer-Zeller even
commissioned a medical report
to allay people's fears.
And, approaching the summit, you can
understand why they were worried.
Well, Roland, we're here. I can
really feel it in my breathing.
I'm having to take long breaths.
I'd better walk rather slowly,
I think.
Yes, and welcome to Jungfraujoch,
top of Europe.
Thank you.
So here I am at 11,333 feet
at the Jungfraujoch,
that is to say,
the saddle of the Jungfrau mountain.
This is nicknamed The Top of Europe.
After all, it is about
three times as high
as any piece of land
in the United Kingdom.
The climax of the long journey
to the top is a visit
to the Sphinx building, perched on a
rock 117 metres above the station.
Tourists come
for the spectacular views
but ever since the 1930s,
the visiting crowds have shared
the mountain-top with scientists.
The High Alpine research station
is today looked after
by two custodian-couples
and for Maria and Urs Otz,
this inhospitable spot
is a part-time home.
Hello, Maria, I'm Michael.
Hi, Michael.
Hello, Michael. Lovely to see you.
At first, scientists came here to
research high-altitude medicine
and astronomy, but recent work has
helped to document climate change
and charted the impact of the
Icelandic volcanic eruption in 2010.
Maria and Urs send daily
weather observations
to Zurich from their remarkable
home in the sky.
So, this is our terrace.
This is absolutely divine.
Your terrace, yes.
A very special terrace.
And this fantastic valley,
what is this?
That's the Aletsch glacier.
It's a huge glacier.
And the place you see there, there
are coming three glaciers together.
The deepness of the glacier
there is about 900 metres.
900 metres?!
Yes, and that's the longest
glacier of the Alps.
It's about 23 kilometres long.
That is awe-inspiring.
As I marvel at what must be one of
Europe's most spine-tingling vistas,
I can't think of a more fitting end
to my Swiss railway adventure.
Here, at the top of Europe,
cutting edge science
and technology are juxtaposed
with the raw beauty of the Alps.
Switzerland is a country
of exceptions.
It lies at the heart
of our continent
and yet it isn't a member
of the European Union.
Its rail engineers
helped to make it special
by taming this wild landscape.
Where else by 1913
could you have constructed
an electric underground railway
to a station above the clouds?
Next time, I'll experience
fin de siecle opulence
in the Low Countries.
Feels like you want
to take a bath in it.
Yeah, you would like
to take a bath in it.
Following my guidebook...
It's like a railway bible.
..To the Western Front
where from 1914,
tourists were replaced
with soldiers,
facing the horrors of the trenches.
He was one of the 72,000 people
who never had a grave.
Subtitles by Red Bee Media