Rigi Staffel Schwingfest

Charlie left us early this morning, sadly. Last night, as we played our last hands of cards and talked, I hatched my plans for what I'd be doing today.  Dennis felt like he needed a break and wanted to take Ella and Alex to that movie they've so been looking forward to seeing, leaving me and Joey to get into all kinds of trouble.

On his way back to Zürich, Charlie had noticed an article in the throw-away magazine that everyone reads on the trains.  The headlines said that Zürich women were going crazy for the sexy wrestling happening in Aarau this weekend.  

Sexy wrestling?  I knew what that was! That could only be Schwingen!  That! That's what I'd do!

I should say, straight off, I wouldn't call Schwingen sexy at all, but it is very silly and totally fun to watch.  I'd heard little snippets about this national sport of Switzerland, which some people call "pants wrestling." It's a pretty good description of the sport: the men who grapple wear burlap shorts over their pants, and they wrestle in a small, sawdust-flooded ring.  The object is to pin the opponent's shoulders to the ground while (and here's the tricky part) keeping a hand on his opponent's shorts.

Points are awarded for partial pins, apparently.  Tournaments go on all summer long, and the prize for the most prestigious Schwingen match, held only every three years, is a bull.

Awesome, right?!  But, for some reason, I got no end of  ridicule from Dennis and Charlie (but, to be fair, mostly from Dennis) for wanting to go watch the Schwingen. I'll bet, though, by the the time he reads the end of this blog post, Charlie kicks himself for not staying an extra day.

I'd say my odds are good: as I read the description of today's Schwingfest to Dennis, he started to waver.  The festival also included Steinstossen (stone throwing, another of Switzerland's national sports. The third and final I'll keep a secret until I get to see it for myself)) and Alphorns and a parade and yodeling. But really, I think that the tipping point for Dennis was the fact that it was atop Rigi Staffel, a large mountain to the south that you can usually see from the top of our Ütliberg.  Whatever the reason, I was so glad he decided to join me.

And so, while he went for a run (from the bottom to the tiptop of Ütliberg...did I mention that Dennis is rather impressive?), I got us ready for our day.  Read: I mixed myself a big thermos of coffee.

Rigi Staffel is pretty tricky to get to.  After a change in the Hauptbahnhof to a train bound for the Arth-Goldau station, you need to walk a quarter-mile to the cog rail station.  Happily, we learned that the cog rail was included in our fancy GA Swiss Rail pass; otherwise, it would have been almost $60 per person to get us to the top of the mountain.

Ella surprised me by being a little nervous about the cog rail, worrying that it was too steep to be safe.  She relaxed eventually, when she realized this train was very different from the other rides, except that it was a bit jolty.  

The view on the half-hour ride up the mountain was just gorgeous, with hidden waterfalls and misty hills and deep woods.  When we got to the top of Rigi Staffel, we learned that it is fully twice as high as Ütliberg: the water squirted forcefully from Alex's water bottle when he opened it for a drink, and we could see the fluffy blanket of clouds, there below us, just as you see when you look out hour airplane window.

Before the fog blew in, we played on the
little mountaintop playground.  Ella did
such a great job talking with a little
local boy: it made me so proud.

Unfortunately, I didn't get a photo of those clouds quickly enough: we had a brief moment of blue skies and sunshine above the clouds, but then they lifted and immersed us in a thick fog.

Moments later, as the clouds began to cover us

And then, as we left to go to the festival, things got
really murky

It's hard to tell, I know, but this house was roofed in rough
slabs of slate.  So unique.

Wall art, giving us a clue of what we were in for

It was amazing to see how many people took expensive and remote journey to the top of the mountain to see this festival.  But they were having good fun for their money: as we arrived, workers had formed a bucket brigade to pass crate after crate after crate of cider and beer to the various food tents.  Dennis bought us each a small bottle, to get us through the afternoon.

Just a taste.

The wrestlers had broken for lunch when we arrived; we were walking over to the sawdust pits, to get ready for the next competitions, when we were distracted by a small cluster of people. Nosing our way in, we realized we'd stumbled on the preliminary stone-throwing contest.  

Dennis investigated a little and discovered that that it was an open competition.  The stone they're throwing was 100 pounds: Dennis (I did mention that he's impressive, didn't I?) decided he could totally do that, and went up to the table to sign up.  Unfortunately, he was turned away because they were already in the second round of competition, but I tip my hat to him for wanting to give it a go!

So, instead, we bought our tickets for the wrestling arena.  Dennis and the kids camped out in the highest part of the grounds while I went down for a closer look.

How I hope I can convey to you how absolutely fun this whole event was.  I think I'm going to have to insist that you take the few minutes to watch the video at the end of this post. You've gotta see this for yourself!

I found that there was open sitting room right next to the three wrestling pits, so I went up and retrieved the family. I told Ella and Alex that they could pick wrestlers to root for, and they had a lot of fun with this: "I call the one with the green suspenders! I call the one with the blue shirt!"

Meanwhile, Dennis and I tried our best to figure out the rules of the game. Those rules I explained earlier? We knew none of them when arrived at this event, and the internets don't work so well on the tops of Swiss mountains.  We figured out that holding onto your opponent's pants was very, very important, but that was about as far as we got.

This is why the Zürich women are going crazy...

While the three rings of men wrestling, switching between pairs in short order, a jaunty little Alpine orchestra was playing in the background, followed by some solemn yodelers.

So there we were, sitting on a mountain top with our ciders, watching men grapple in their burlap diapers, to the strains of peaceful yodeling.

Are you sorry yet, Charlie? Wait, there's more!

As a sort of intermission, the wrestling broke for a ceremonial processional.  

In the beginning of the summer, Alpine farmers move their cattle to the higher pastures in the Alps, and at mid-September they bring them back down.  These cattle drives are always done with much tradition and pomp: families decorate their cows with flowered wreaths or hats, the best milkers always receiving the fanciest ornaments.  And the families decorate themselves, too, with their traditional Swiss clothing.  There's usually some casual yodeling, too.  Generally these are private, family celebration, but, if you're in the mountains in the right time and the right place, you can watch and tag along.  

But we got to enjoy the spectacle without the guilt of eavesdropping: for our enjoyment, some festival hosts saved the ascension of their cow herd so that that the whole audience could witness the fun.  

It was so wonderful: in addition to the long string of cows, with their loudly clanging bells, there was a party of yodelers and some flag throwers.

Flag tossing, by the way, isn't popular enough to be numbered with the trio of national Swiss sports that I mentioned, but it is highly traditional, a sport dating back to the Middle Ages, when it was practiced by urban guilds.  There are about fifty different proscribed swings and throws that competitors combine into a 3-minute program. Most generally, the thrower needs to toss and catch, one handed, a heavy, large flag Swiss flag.

But back to the parade: behind the cows was a group of people, representing the herd owners, carrying improbably large things on their backs, in pageant representation of the family carrying their belongings up to their mountain hut for the summer.

Alex has decided that this is the only way to travel.

And then there was just a little more: after the parade left the ring, two men came on and put on a short demonstration of synchronized whip-cracking.  It sounded like perfectly timed fireworks, and Ella and Alex agreed that it was their absolute favorite part of the day.

Whipper-snappers

Anyway, for your enjoyment, now, here's a small tasting of our day: the stone throwing, the wrestling, and the parade spectacle.

Something's coming...

A coffee dispenser: insulated metal, with coffee squirted
out of a long rubber tube.

Immediately after the parade ended, the light got really weird: kind of dark and bright at the same time, with all of the colors thrown into sharp contrast.  And it got a lot colder: we all pulled on our sweatshirts, and the hot coffee vendors replaced the beer sellers.  

But we stayed...until Dennis and I finally realized something that may have occurred to you long ago. Here we were, in a crowd of thousands, on the remote top of a mountain, only accessible by cog trains, which, according to the schedule, ran few and far between.  

Were we even going to be able to get off this mountain tonight?

As soon as we realized this, we hopped up and joined the thin line of people leaving the wrestling grounds the ones who were similarly alarmed by the smattering of raindrops.  On our way out, one of the sponsors handed me one of the more ingenious and welcome tchotchkes I've ever received: a plastic poncho.

There was, indeed, a huge and unorganized throng at the train tracks.  Dennis, however, navigated the crowd, and we were able to get on a train only a little jostling.  We did, however, end up squeezing five bottoms on a seat meant for three.  But, considering how many people were standing in the aisles, we were glad for it.  Still, I feel like we dodged a bullet, there.

Heading home from our thoroughly Swiss afternoon

But, even if we'd had more trouble getting down the mountain, it still would have been worth it.  What an amazing afternoon.

So...what do you think, Charlie?  Next year?