An Alpine journey in the cab of a train

But none, I think, offered quite the excitement – and certainly not the view – of the trip I was privileged to take last Saturday, travelling at a sedate 9km per hour, down the side of a mountain in Switzerland.

I was in the country, for only the second time in my life, visiting my old friend and former colleague Clive Postlethwaite and his wife, Anne. Now retired after a long career as a freelance photographer – snapping and being snapped at by royalty was his speciality – Clive has settled in the beautiful valley of Lauterbrunnen, beneath the snow-capped peaks of the Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau.

The surrounding area contains an impressive network of narrow-gauge railways, cable-cars and the like, many of which were designed for the use of winter sports enthusiasts. Knowing of my fondness for this sort of thing, and very generous with their time, my hosts were kind enough to draw up a programme of exploration and join Rosemarie and me in its implementation.

The two full days of my trip were entirely spent in this delightful pursuit. What would otherwise have been an extremely expensive form of entertainment was brought within our reach by the purchase of a special ticket covering most of our routes.

The highlight came on the second afternoon with a journey along the 7257-metre track linking Wilderswil and Schynige Platte. This is 1,967 metres above sea level and commands an amazing view of all the principal peaks of the area. It was precisely in order that people could journey to admire this view that the 800mm-gauge tracks were laid in 1893. Originally powered by steam engines (one of which survives and is used on heritage runs), the trains changed to electric haulage early in the 20th century. Because Schynige Platte has no facilities for winter sports, the line closes at the end of the summer season. Sunday was the last day of operation for this year.

My invitation to travel on the return journey with driver Res von Kanel was sprung upon me just as the train was about to leave. Pascal Bisang, a fellow passenger, had become aware of my keen interest in trains, through observing my photographic session with Clive around the locomotive that hauled us up (see picture).

Pascal works for the Swiss national train system (Schweizerische Bundesbahn) and he thought that I, too, was probably involved in the industry. By the time that he discovered I was merely a ‘gricer’, I was safely ensconced with him in the cab.

The locomotive was a vintage model, its interior beautifully maintained, dating back to 1910. It was originally used on the route to Jungfraujoch, the highest station in the area at 3,454 metres.

Though we travelled up the mountain at 12km per hour, the descent was taken more slowly, to avoid any risk of a runaway train. This merely prolonged the delight for me, with the extra opportunity it provided to savour the wonderful views high over Interlaken, with Lake Brienz to the left and Lake Thuner to the right. Bliss!

Knowing what one does about the Swiss respect for rules and officialdom, I was rather surprised to be invited on board. Such a thing would hardly be permitted in Britain. But perhaps one misjudges the national character of the Swiss. They possess, for instance, much more of a sense of humour than is generally supposed. This can be seen (and heard) in the shuttle train at Zurich airport, where mooing cows, ringing cowbells and a plaited girl blowing kisses at the window (a true Heidi-hi!) greet passengers. It is seen, too in the uniform worn by the driver of another train, with its jacket bearing the legend ‘Engine Driver’ (why in English? I wondered).

Who else could conceivably be at the controls? Only, perhaps, a visiting journalist from England.