Viber calling and more funicular finding

This morning, just after breakfast I had a surprise video call on Viber from Rachel in Arizona, just returned from a gig up-country and winding down before bed. It was good to catch up with her and talk dad to daughter for a good long while. By sheer co-incidence, at the end of the afternoon I had another Video video call, this time from my sister June and daughter Kath, who was visiting her auntie during a London trip. She helped her out by adjusting her Galaxy Tab display setting to big font size, and completed the registration of Viber, which I'd installed for her on my visit last month, but failed to complete at the time. Hopefully this'll pave the way for video calls to my sister as well as the children, if she can remember how it works and use the app as intended.

Cousin Dianne sent me an email to confirm that she and husband Ian are going to be in Champex Lac, up above the Val de Bagnes for the annual local desalpage on my last weekend here. I'm going to make my third trip up there to join them for this ancient rural custom, only this time changing trains at Sembrancher to reach Orsieres, where they'll pick me up. Great to have an opportunity to see and photograph another part of the trois vallées, plus the bonus of this special mountain fête. In spring, animals are taken to higher pastures to graze, and in autumn when they are returned to the shelter of lower lying fields and barns. 

These events are celebrated in a traditional way. Beasts are decked with ribbons, flowers and bells, walked from farms through the village and then taken uphill on the most convenient track, a journey which may take all day, and provide an excuse to picnic en route. In the autumn, festivities take place back in the village. Nowadays, with larger herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, the majority of animals may be transported by vehicle, with a select number decorated and walked up or down by road. I remember seeing flocks of sheep and goats herded down country roads from higher pastures inland on the Côte d'Azur one autumn fifteen years ago. I remember seeing a farmer in the Pays de Gex returning to his farm from high pastures with just a few cows, festively dressed. No audience, no welcoming party, not for the tourists, just something he and his forebears had always done.

I also had a phone call from a notary in Aigle, managing the affairs of an elderly Brit living in Bex, but now in hospital and close to the end of his life. He wanted to know if, when the time came, it would be possible for him to arrange the man's funeral in St John's, as his few closest relatives lived in Britain, and may not be so easy to contact to arrange things anyway. I reassured him that it would be possible, and we then exchanged contact details by email. It's not unusual for elderly single expats or those married but childless to end their lives alone in old age, known maybe to just a few neighbours, having outlived colleagues, friends and siblings. It's very sad, and one can only hope that living one's final years in a place of great beauty offers them the consolations of nature, when family friendships have already run their course.

After finding the old funicular railway yesterday afternoon, my mind was exercised by not having identified its point of departure, so I retraced yesterday's route until I found the first place where I'd seen the railway line, near the escalier de Collonges. Here, the line ran into a cutting, then went into what looked like a tunnel, except there was no sign of the line emerging lower down the hill. On closer inspection I concluded this dark space, enclosed by a security gate, was all that remained of the funicular line terminus. It was next to and beneath a large imposing old house in classic Vaudois style, which had been renovated with its lower boundary and approach road remodelled by generous application of concrete. It was impossible to tell if the house had been part of Collonge funicular station. To the left of the steps, I found a blocked of passageway shrouded with bushes, perhaps leading down the where the departure platform once would have been. If my surmise is correct, it wouldn't be impossible to restore this line for services, but it would, doubtless, be expensive.

And to finish the day, a Viber call with my best beloved Clare in Cardiff.

An un-planned walk and surprise discovery

A quiet uneventful morning, reading and writing, waiting to hear of Clare's arrival back in Cardiff. Indeed, she was home by lunchtime after a hassle free journey. That's the same flight I'll be taking in three weeks from now, except that I'll need a seven o'clock start from Territet to be sure that I am dropping off my case the advised two hours before time. I could leave it later, as Geneva airport is familiar, and works efficiently, but it's good to make the effort to have more schedule slack, just in case there are unexpected delays. Who needs the extra stress?

After lunch I took my HX300 camera for a walk, heading first for the neighbourhood bottle bank up behind the Hotel des Alpes with a few empties to deposit. A tourism pedestre notice caught my eye, which led to me climbing dozens of flights of steps in between hillside mansions, crossing the road up to Caux, then climbing upwards through woodland on a footpath which eventually took me to a place in the road close to the Toveyre station on the railway line which ascends from Montreux to Naye.

From here, I followed a side road which took me further up into the wooded valley down which the Torrent de Veraye tumbles through the village of Veytaux, adjacent to Territet. The road ends at a farm with several large buildings and what looks like an accommodation block, perhaps a hostel or former hotel? I don't know. 

In the open pastures below the farm there were sheep, wearing bells that had a silvery tone to them, and several long horned goats in a paddock of their own. Above the farm, more forest, and a steep ascent to col between jagged rock peaks. The distant noise of traffic on the motorway, three hundred metres below this seemingly remote rural domain was a persistent reminder of how close it was to the developed urban coastal strip. Looking up the mountain, the only reminder of the juxtaposition was the necklace of high tension electricity cables strung high up across the valley, with a family of buzzards patrolling the airspace. 

The views across the lake into Haute-Savoie were well worth the climb, but the most surprising aspect of this unanticipated afternoon hike was the discovery that the footpath I climbed was in close proximity to the track of a disused funicular railway. In several places close to bridges, access was barred by large security gates, but the track and its cable guiding equipment were still in place. Maintenance of the track bed and sides was still being done, as there was no jungle of vegetation concealing the railway. I found signs of where train stops were made, and when I reached the end of the line, found the boarded up station house, landing platform and car haulage equipment were still intact, if rusty. 

A folorn notice was still in place announcing the next train in German, French, Italian and English, and advertising Gaulois cigarettes, perhaps dating back to the early sixties, but nothing to say the name of the station. At one of the lower stops there'd been a panel with the name of the funicular line on it, but it had weathered and was illegibile. So, at this point, the line was an intriguing mystery, and smartphone mapping was no help, as it tends always to be up to date. I couldn't access Google Earth on the phone I was carrying, so enquiry had to wait until I returned.

It wasn't long before I discovered an interesting enthusiasts' web-page, describing the history of the Territet to Mont-Fleuri funicualar, and found visual evidence of the existence of the line on Google Earth, which didn't exist on Google Maps as it would add nothing functional to the map's purpose. Mont-Fleuri was the site of a grand Victorian hotel, and  the line was opened in 1910 to serve its clientele, as much as local inhabitants. When the hotel closed in 1987, it became a prestigious girls' boarding school, and half the passengers using the funicular were students. 

The line had to close abruptly in November 1992 due to imminent failure of its traction cable. Talks about restoring the line to use have continued intermittently ever since. The cost of the project and who takes responsibility for payment is the problem. Nowadays roads have been improved and there are more cars around than ever. The need to restore the service may not seem as great, except that it would help reduce congestion on roads that aren't easy to drive, especially in winter. This would reduce pollution. An electrically powered funicular is far more eco-friendly, and can carry more people quickly uphill than a fleet of cars. The fact that the infrastructure has not been dismantled or neglected greatly gives cause for cautious optimism. We'll see.

The photos I took are here