LAUTERBRUNNEN

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INTO RIVENDELL

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EXCERPTS FROM LETTER 306.

By J. R. R. Tolkien to Michael Tolkien, c. 1967

I am delighted that you have made the acquaintance of Switzerland, and of the very part that I once knew best and which had the deepest effect on me. Bilbo's journey from Rivendell to the other side of the Misty Mountains, including the glissade down the slithering stones into the pine woods, is based on my adventures in 1911...

Our wanderings mainly on foot in a party of 12 are not now clear in sequence, but leave many vivid pictures as clear as yesterday (that is as clear as an old man's remoter memories become). We went on foot carrying great packs practically all the way from Interlaken, mainly by mountain paths, to Lauterbrunnen and so to Mürren....

I left the view of the Jungfrau with deep regret: eternal snow, etched as it seemed against eternal sunshine, and the Silberhorn sharp against dark blue: the Silvertine (Celebdil) of my dreams.

 

EXCERPTS FROM THE HOBBIT

by J. R. R. Tolkien, 1937.

"Here it is at last!" he called, and the others gathered round him and looked over the edge. They saw a valley far below. They could hear the voice of hurrying water in a rocky bed at the bottom; the scent of trees was in the air; and there was a light on the valley-side across the water.

Bilbo never forgot the way they slithered and slipped in the dusk down the steep zig-zag path into the secret valley of Rivendell. The air grew warmer as they got lower, and the smell of the pine-trees made him drowsy, so that every now and again he nodded and nearly fell off, or bumped his nose on the pony's neck. Their spirits rose as they went down and down. The trees changed to beech and oak, and there was a comfortable feeling in the twilight. The last green had almost faded out of the grass, when they came at length to an open glade not far above the banks of the stream. 

... And so at last they all came to the Last Homely House, and found its doors flung wide.

ANNECY

A TOWN OF WATERS

The town was built around the waters that flowed from the lake in two streams. 

It had always been a place of settlement, as far back as memory holds, but it was around 1107 that the town of Annecy began to flourish, nourished by the lake and the rivers. It was water that the people were drawn by. It was water - the birther and the protector, that brought this town to life. Water provided for the survival of inhabitants in the early days, and later - with the construction of the castle on the island in the middle of the town, it provided protection. Later still, the waters of those two rivers fed the watermills of the workshops that sprouted on the outskirts of that medieval village: the blacksmiths, and the textile mills. Water brought movement to the town, large boats with triangular sails bringing supplies, or smaller personal crafts moving about the stone streets, with doors opening onto the canals themselves. Water brought culture too - as the marshes by the riverside and the pastures on the lakeside began to be converted to parklands and woodlands, perfect places for the reflecting thoughts of walkers. 

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Reflections of the mind : glimmering shadows caught between moving surface and shifting sands, hinting at a further notion: 
something unseen.

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Water is the giver of life, it is the deep sea before sight, the eternal womb from which our human lives, and indeed all other lives emanate. It is the mystery too, the unknown darkness beneath us and within us, within our psyches. It is the collective pool of the unconscious, and also the moving tides within our veins, it is the swirling life force behind each being - it is our 60 percent; over half of our being is composed of it. Water itself may be able to contain emotion and intention, within its very molecules.

Who has not known the longing, the footsteps that take us lakeside or riverside to contemplate life? We are all drawn to bodies of water, to stabilise our own thoughts and plug back into the wider energy systems that surround that body. When we build towns and cities and lives that are divorced from water, we cut ourselves off from one of the most important elements to life itself, and we begin to undervalue its importance in everything - sometimes to such an extent that we will allow pollutants into our waters. But when we refocus, realising the sacred nature of water, we might find in ourselves a desire to preserve our aquatic environments. For we depend on them.

The town of Annecy instills a calm feeling in the viewer. Standing on the Pont des Amours, a fine example of a Belle Epoque iron-cast bridge, and watching the swans drift about, I felt an immanence and a transcendence - a kind of peace. The swans floated as if on air, graceful clouds casting shadows on underwater valleys of weeds, with only a hint of green-blue caught in between.

“The sea always signifies a collecting-place where all psychic life originates, i.e., the collective unconscious. Water in motion means something like the stream of life, or the energy-potential.”

— CARL JUNG, 1935

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

It's like riding a bike.

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So the saying goes - with the implication that bike-riding is a skill that no-one will ever forget. Jump back on a bike after a year of not riding, and all your knowledge will come back to you.

And yet, after ditching my car for six months, I had a sneaking suspicion that my driving skills were not all-there anymore. Oliver and I had just made it through the first half of our backpacking adventure, and now, miracle of miracles, we had acquired a rental car for the second half. Unfortunately, I was the sole driver, as Oliver was a little too young to be zooming around in a rental.

To add to my uncertainty was the uncomfortable fact that I had never practiced driving on the right side of the road. Or, in my case: the wrong side, as New Zealand is a slightly topsy-turvy country with roadways that are swapped to the left. And it certainly does not help that I am terrible at remembering which way is 'left' and which is 'right.'

So, in preparation for the big day, I had read the one-page of instructions emailed to me by the car company, and had practiced approximately once since leaving New Zealand - by driving six months beforehand in the States with my friends. Ominously, that practice session had been cut short when I attempted to turn into the wrong lane near the gas station, and was met with a car full of guys screaming "right" at me. Or was it "left"? 

Yup, I was screwed.

After filling out the necessary paperwork, they asked if we wanted to give it a test-drive, around the parking lot. My heart was thumping, and I had to surreptitiously ask Oliver which pedal was the break, as it seemed to have slipped my mind. I completed a nervous-circle around the other fancy-schmancy-million-dollar-rentals, and then I was waved off. I could go, they said. Wait, what?! Are they crazy? Are they idiots? I should not be allowed to drive yet! When I asked them about any special road rules, they answered "You must drive on the right side." Panic set in as the gates opened on the wide world, full of potential dangers. Aaaaaaaaaaaagh! I screamed a little.

But, as anyone with half a brain cell can calculate, I am still alive and so is poor Oliver, who had to deal with my terrible driving. So, we did not die. In fact, we somehow managed to not-die all that first day. And the next. And over the course of that month, my driving improved seven-fold, and my white-knuckle grip on the wheel relaxed a little. I am extremely thankful that, out of a difficult situation, I learned a new kind of independence. 

I can now drive on major highways, on autobahns, in the rain, up the alps in the snow, and, wonder of wonders, even in Italy where road rules don't seem to exist.