Part 2

The Lady: “It makes no odds, John, they’re ower-ripe anyhow—but the place is grand!”

And ‘the place is grand’ so truly defines the scene _en route_ to Villars, the phrase is so simple and comprehensive and so true, that we have been lucky to get it from the lady frae Lancashire even at the tail of her lazy mental attitude. In one sense it is the highest tribute that has ever been paid to our fairy fastness of Villars-sur-Ollon—this conception of the fir trees magic-laden with golden tropic fruit. If you do not believe it, take the train at Bex, in the little Rhone valley town of wooden houses where one dare not smoke ‘_en cas de vent_’ for fear that a spark flying loose should ignite the street and render you liable to a fine of six francs and confiscation of your pipe. And surely, if you want the most thrilling of all personal adventure-stories with which to startle your own village on your return from a daring holiday, this will suffice:—

“‘Strange places? Yes, I reckon I’ve seen some! I remember one night I lost a two-franc piece in a street in Bex. I struck a match to find it. Suddenly a wind blew out the light, and a policeman came rushing round the corner and arrested me. I was fined six francs for striking a match in a gale—the wind was no more than a draught from a window—and in the dark the policeman himself picked up the two-franc piece and walked off with it.’

“But I must not keep you too long with the fantastic, for already your train is passing Gryon, built like a bird’s nest in the hill, and soon Villars itself is reached. There get out, and having drunken of the panoramic ecstasy from the Diablerets round to the mountains of Savoy, walk down the road towards Chesières, snugly sleeping a hundred feet below Les Ecovets. You must not go as far as Chesières however, for having crossed the viaduct over the deep ravine a little beyond Villars I want you to turn round quickly and tell me your candid opinion of the picture—as soon as you can get your breath. For here, surely, if ever you are sensitive to your environment, Beauty will take you to her breast. The clustering fir trees, framed about with velvet plots of green under a clear, blue-grey sky; the suggestion of the infinite in the peaks tossing in the heat-haze like a wild sea beyond the verge of a far-away coast; the chastening awe of the Glacier of Trient and the undertone of the gorge-water below rising like the spirit of reflection bred of the dense solitude of hill and sky—all these fine miracles about you! For this is the charm of Villars, that it lies a kind of lagoon of quiet beauty amid the circling terror of pitiless frost and snow. ‘Domestic felicity’ best describes the atmosphere of this little hill-town, the wrath and terror of rock and glacier mellowed by distance and yet near enough to heighten by contrast the soft rapture of Villars reposing in the arms of its hills. Go up another day to Les Ecovets, and, looking across to Leysin and the Tours d’Aï and away to Lac Léman and the dim-blue Jura mountains, say if ever ruler of the world claimed more glittering conquest than this of yours. For whether you are mountaineer or one of the people who ‘never walk’, the groves of Les Ecovets will always lure you. Painter, poet, rhapsodist or mere plain, blunt man, you there will find inspiration such as is not written in any book. It must indeed have been at Les Ecovets that the little English child, waking suddenly from a noonday sleep, wished that he were always ‘with Christmas’; for the magic of all pines that ever mimicked an Alpine glade on paper, the glamour of all the berries that made your long-ago December a lustrous time in hearth and hall, and the mystery of all Christmas memories of other climes is here consummated in Nature’s own most ideal, most artistic scheme. I know no place like Villars for health and holiness: the high health of crystal air and shining peak, the strange holiness of solitude and the silent eloquence of the sky-embracing mountains; for there in the palpable hush are the mystic pipes of Pan that charm us on with tunes played ‘not to the sensual ear’ but are ever making for the spirit ‘ditties of no tone’.”

I scarce know what more to say of Villars after the moving eloquence of my friend; I am at a loss for simile and dainty word. And yet, more must be said. Not of Villars in the spring and summer—though the secretive little pine-surrounded lake of Chavonnes above Bretaye, and the steep slopes of the Chamossaire, glorious with purple viola and blue gentian, call insistently for notice—but of Villars in its sun-drenched robe of snow; for in winter Villars is amazingly transformed and its panorama need fear no rivals in the Alps. There is a grander and more Alpine note in winter; there is greater mystery, austerity, sublimity in the wonderful alignment of peak and col and glacier; there is, too, a greater suggestion of power and vastness in the open landscape than there is in summer; and yet, the while one admires this wide-flung, steely grandeur, one is bathed the livelong day in glorious sunshine, there being no hours of shadow as at many winter resorts in the Alps. A cloudless day at Bretaye on the Chamossaire slopes, where ski-jumping is organized and whence Mont Blanc and his attendant Aiguilles are seen quite intimately, is a revelation in Alpine winter scenery—the deep ultramarine forests, the crisp and radiant snow, the intense warm-blue shadows, over the whole of which reigns a purity that is dazzling. But I must make way for a keen and skilful all-round sportsman, well known as a leader at

VILLARS IN WINTER

“A few years ago Villars in winter was wrapped in slumber as far as the outside world was concerned. St. Moritz, Grindelwald, and Château d’Oex had long been known to winter sportsmen, but Villars and its vast possibilities from the point of view of sun worship and sport could not long remain unknown to the ever-increasing army of winter revellers in the Alps. In 1906 the tide set in and one hotel opened its doors for a few weeks, and in spite of the long sleigh drive from Aigle, the diminutive rink, and other drawbacks incidental to the first opening of a new winter centre, the few score visitors were so delighted with their experience that the name of Villars was fairly launched upon the flood of popular esteem. The railway from Bex was run in winter for the first time in 1909, and since then the development of this sunny sports-place has been astonishing. Not only are all the hotels crowded, but numerous châlets and private pensions have sprung up, and the neighbouring resorts of Chesières, Arvèyes, Gryon, and even the diminutive village of Huémoz—a few miles farther west—now look upon the winter season as more important than that of summer. This result is in great part due to the wonderful natural position of this centre, unsurpassed by any in the Alps. Sheltered from the north by the range of the Chamossaire, and on the east by that of the Grand and Petit Muveran, the Dent Favre and the Dent de Morcles, there is a magnificent view towards the south on the Dent du Midi, the Glacier du Trient and the Aiguilles Verte and Dru, and the horizon is wide and open enough to allow a minimum of seven hours’ sunshine in December, and the absence of wind enables skaters and curlers to lunch on the rink without wrapping up in mufflers and overcoats. But the situation is only entitled to part of the credit for the prominent place taken by Villars in the list of Alpine winter resorts. A great deal is due to the wonderful organization of the sports and the bold policy of those responsible in spending large sums in making and equipping one of the finest skating rinks in Switzerland and the finest toboggan run outside the Engadine. The icemen are the most skilled in their profession; the skating instructors are past masters in their respective styles; and the ski-ing professional attached to the Sports Club is one of the most distinguished runners and jumpers in the country. But besides these paid professors, Villars has the advantage of having a committee of organization, every member of which is an adept in one or more branches of sport.

“Sport is indeed an amusement but also a business at Villars. Visitors coming out from the fog and gloom of an English winter are satisfied for the first few days to revel in the glorious air and sunshine, to potter about on skates or skis, or to toboggan in desultory fashion, but when they have got their ski-ing and skating legs and have learned to take the rink corner of the ice-run without failing, they become filled with enthusiasm to go for a long ski expedition, to do the ice-run against time, or pass one of the skating tests in either English or International style, or perhaps they are tempted by the array of silver bowls or challenge cups. This is where the work of the committee comes in. Each Sunday afternoon a body of athletic, serious-looking men—presumably taking their pleasures sadly like true traditional Englanders—may be seen in earnest deliberation in a remote corner of a certain smoking lounge. It is the Villars Parliament, and the result of its protracted sitting is anxiously awaited by the hundreds of visitors who crowd around the ‘Programme for the Week’ posted on notice boards in each hotel. For ski-ers there may be a run to Bovonnaz, a gymkhana at Bretaye or a competition for the Villars Golden Ski or Villars Ski-ing Cup, or perhaps a test of the B.S.A. For skaters there may be an ice carnival, a hockey match or an ice gymkhana, or an N.S.A. test. Tobogganers may perhaps be able to risk their limbs in a race against time on the perfectly engineered but rather appalling-looking ice-run, and curlers may perhaps note that they have a chance of getting even with the Morgins or Montana Curling Clubs, against whom each year out and home matches are arranged. And when the day’s work is over, and ski-ers, skaters, curlers, and tobogganers are back in their respective hotels, feeling ‘splendidly fit’ after a bath and a meal, think you that they settle down to an armchair and a pipe or a novel? Not they!—the winter sportsman and sportswoman work hard during the day, but the evening finds them still restless for amusement. The programme must therefore show a succession of fancy-dress balls and _cotillons_, bridge drives and bowling matches, or the committee will be called a band of slackers, or perhaps they may receive a deputation of fascinating young ladies who wish to know why there has been only one masked ball during the week in such and such hotel, or perhaps some charming old ladies want to know why they have not been catered for in the matter of bridge or whist. Nor does the rush and movement slacken throughout the season. No matter whether one arrives in December or February one always feels that the season is at its height. And so it goes on until the ice begins to get soft and the rink has to be closed for a couple of hours in the middle of the day, and the ice-run is only open till ten o’clock, and ski-ers have to start out betimes to make sure of good snow, and at last, say towards the end of the first week in March, the ice is no longer skateable, the snow is too soft for long expeditions, and the first flowers appear upon the Chamossaire. Spring has come, and the winter sportsman, if he is not also a botanist or flower lover but _is_ a child of Custom, will turn his face towards his home, thinking that the Alps are ‘done for’ until July.

“The only sport which Villars has hitherto lacked is bobsleighing, and this has now been remedied by the construction of a bob-run nearly three miles long. The new railway from Villars to Bretaye enables bobbers to take full advantage of this run, and also gives a great impetus to ski-running, as it brings the ski-runner to a height of 6000 feet, and he is then fresh for the Chamossaire—the classic run and the scene of the Villars Golden Ski race—or the Chaux Ronde, whence there is a wonderful view of both the Oberland and the Mont Blanc chain. He can also more easily do the long day’s trip to Château d’Oex by way of Lac Chavonnes, La Forclaz[11], and the Col des Mosses, which is one of the most interesting of expeditions, though it should only be undertaken by a fairly expert runner.

“The snow on the Chamossaire is generally in fine condition until the middle of January, but it is exposed to the full heat of the sun, and the Chaux Ronde on the opposite side of the valley affords better running except after a fresh fall of snow. Among other ski-runs to the north of Villars are La Truche (5886 feet) and the Plan Chamois (6194 feet), which may be done in two and a half or three hours with one hour for the descent. The route lies through Chesières and Les Ecovets, where there are some excellent north slopes for practice. The snow on this run is best after a fresh fall or late in the season, when the sun has changed the hard crust into the watery surface on which the expert can run almost as well as on powdery snow. The Chaux de Traveyannaz is one of the best runs in the neighbourhood and can be done in three and a half or four hours, with descent to Gryon in about one and a half hours. The best day’s expedition is that to Bovonnaz, and the easiest way to do it is to take the early train to Gryon, thence to the top in two and three-quarter hours, and back to Gryon in about one and a half hours. The snow on this run is nearly always in perfect condition and the country is distinctly more Alpine than that on the Chamossaire side. Chamois are nearly always to be seen on the other side of the ridge separating Bovonnaz from the Grand Muveran, and on one occasion a ski-runner got a good snapshot of a herd of these shy animals lazing in the sun just on the other side of the ridge, quite unaware of his presence until they heard the click of the shutter. What a relief it must have been to them to find afterwards that it was only a snapshot!

“Villars, whose rink is the second largest in Switzerland, is now regarded as the most important centre of English figure skating.[12] The English Figure Skating Club has a portion of the rink reserved for its members, and tests of the N.S.A. are held weekly, there being nearly always available a number of first-class judges. Mr. E. F. Benson, the well-known novelist, has made Villars his winter quarters for several years. He is a gold-medallist of the N.S.A. and has done a great deal for the encouragement of English figure skating. His advice and assistance are always at the disposal of the novice whose aspiration is to get into one of Mr. Benson’s ‘figures’: as a ‘caller’ of interesting figures he has no superior. The _Sanctum Sanctorum_ of the vast rink would not seem itself without the bronzed and hatless head and the white-gloved, immobile hands of this great exponent of the smooth and ungymnastic art of English figure skating. Easy? Try it! Its very calm, rigid, and unemotional facility is its enormous difficulty.

“But the International skaters are not neglected; for they, too, have their enclosure, and it is generally occupied by a number of seriously active practitioners. There is also an intermediate or amphibious class of skater which has not made up its mind which style to adopt, and these—they are known facetiously as ‘Baby Wobblers’—are allowed to use the waltzing enclosure by passing quite a simple test.

“Then, the weird cry of the curler is loud in the land; for curling is perhaps the most flourishing and most highly organized of all branches of sport at Villars, and the Henderson Bishop Cup for ladies and the Holmes Tarn Cup for men are among the most coveted of Villars trophies.[13] A word must be said of a recognized and quaint institution at Villars—the Curlers’ Court. The ceremony of initiation into the ranks of ‘made curlers’ takes place in the dungeons of the Hotel Muveran and is sufficiently terrifying to the novice. The Court is generally held after the initiation ceremony; the president is styled ‘My Lord’ and his assistant is his ‘Officer’. The rules of the Ancient Order of Curlers are strictly observed and any breach of these rules is visited by a fine ranging from five centimes to one franc. Thus one may be fined for having a bald head or a bad cold, another for not being as handsome as he might be, or for the size of his boots; speaking or rising without his Lordship’s permission is also fineable. A well-known skater—one of the few honorary members of the Villars Sports Club—is frequently fined for not paying more attention to the noble pastime of curling. When the Court rises (with the President’s permission, of course), the fines are auctioned for the benefit of the club and frequently realize large sums. All of which savours not a little of Mr. Punch’s famous set of rules for the Bushey Art School; and it is all so very, very serious.

“Ice Hockey has become very popular in Switzerland of late, and Villars was one of the first centres to join the Swiss Ice Hockey Association. Matches are played annually against neighbouring clubs, and teams occasionally come from Zurich and even from such distant places as Brussels and Prague. The scene on the rink when a match is in progress is one of great animation, the enclosure being surrounded by a crowd of skaters of both sexes who shout themselves hoarse encouraging the Villars team. The ladies frequently have matches against the men, who play left-handed, and also against the boys. It is here that La Combe and the Château de la Rosey from Rolle,[14] and Sillig’s school from Vevey have won some of their spurs.

“I have mentioned the ice-run on which only skeletons[15] are allowed, but there is also an equally well made though smaller and easier run on which only ordinary Swiss _luges_ are allowed; and this is used chiefly by ladies and children. Races are held regularly, and as this run lies parallel with the skeleton run for a great part of its length, the same telephone can be used for timing these races.

“As I have already said, the spirit of activity is indefatigable at Villars. When the day’s outdoor excitement is over there comes more excitement indoors. The Dramatic Club gives several performances each season on the fine stage at the Hotel Muveran, among its repertoire being _The Villain of Villars_ and _Violet goes to Villars_, both from the facile and ingenious pens of Captain and Mrs. Holmes Tarn, and far above the usual amateur productions.

“I must, however, cease. Indeed, I have no permission to go further. Much more could, and really ought to be said, but perhaps the foregoing is sufficient to show what Villars can do for winter sportsmen.

“G. C. DOBBS.”

Yes; more undoubtedly could be said. In fact, a book such as this could well be written about each of the places we are visiting. But necessity is inexorable, and we must leave this very night for Aigle, though high fête is in the air and the huge rink is illuminated with Chinese lanterns, and a masked and costumed cortège, led by the stentorian strains of the village band, with Mr. Dobbs as majordomo at the head, is shuffling and gliding slowly round preparatory to dispersal for a display of gorgeous fireworks. Had it been daylight we might have walked down by way of Chesières and Huémoz to the large village of Ollon, home of the accomplished painter, Frédéric Rouge, one of Switzerland’s most sincere and virile draughtsmen, and thence to our destination. As it is, we must return the way we came and take train from Bex to

AIGLE

A quiet old market town to-day, and _chef-lieu_ of the largest district in Vaud, Aigle in 1529 was selected by Berne, after the disputation in the Cathedral of Lausanne, as the starting-point for the preaching of the Reformation, and it was here that Farel, Calvin’s noisy mouthpiece, made his first proselytes. The many-towered old castle, standing upon higher ground at the back of the town and amongst the vineyards, dates from the thirteenth century, but was burnt by Berne and afterwards rebuilt by her in 1534; to-day the great central tower serves as a prison, and in the body of the building is held the district court of justice. Not many years ago certain recesses in the woods at the back of Aigle were famous as the haunt of the lovely and scarce brown and gold Lady’s Slipper orchid; but, alas! that is of the past. Aigle at present is mostly noted among strangers for its golf links and the skating that is to be had on what is known as the Old Rhone—an ancient bed of the river now running a mile or so away; it is also the station at which one alights for Leysin, Sépey, and the Vallée des Ormonts. Much as I would like to walk up the picturesque Ormonts valley to Ormonts-Dessus and Vers l’Eglise at the foot of “_le bastion titanesque et dévasté des Diablerets_” (quoting M. Jules Monod, of guidebook fame) and study the flora of which Mr. H. Stuart Thompson, the well-known botanist, speaks so highly, and hear from the peasants stories of the bellicose demons who infest the wild summits and war among themselves, using huge rocks as missiles; much as I would like to visit Sépey and the ruins of the Château d’Aigremont, where there is a subterranean passage in which it is said the last Lord of Aigremont is shut up with an awful horned ram, and is engaged in counting and recounting his hoarded treasure; or to push on to the Col des Mosses amongst the exquisite fields of flowers; or—— But it cannot be! We must adhere to the programme and must now take the electric railway that mounts to

LEYSIN

There is a note of sadness in the journey, notwithstanding the extreme beauty of the landscape; for Leysin is one of the most noted stations in Europe for the treatment of pulmonary disease. With its numerous and huge sanatoria dotted about near the forests above the old village and its church, built in 1445, upon the southern slopes of the curiously striking Tours d’Aï, whose gaunt and ruddy cliffs dominate the whole and protect it from the bitter north and north-east winds, Leysin is a veritable sun-trap and has long been known as a successful agent in the fight which the skilled doctors wage for health. The perspective, too, must aid considerably both patients and doctors in the struggle, for it is second only to that from Villars. Perhaps it is in winter that Leysin is seen at its brightest and best, and Mr. L. A. Emery, President of the Leysin Sports Club, has kindly contributed the following authoritative information about this famous centre when it is stirred by the spirit of

WINTER PASTIMES