Foreign Parts
North Italian Lakes & Simplon Pass

Foreign Parts.

From the North Italian Lakes Across the Alps, via Simplon Pass, to Switzerland on Bicycles.

By H. and F. Rieck.

Ghiffa, Lago Maggiore, Italy,
24th May, 1901.

Our most pleasant sojourn in beautiful Bergamo Alta being ended, we sent our heavy luggage by rail ahead to Locarno, on the Lago Maggiore, ascended our machines, and drew a swift and straight line westward back to Lecco, on the Como Lake. Here a fine landscape is to be seen. On the fertile soil not a spot is left uncultivated; rich clover meadows, grain fields, vineyards on terraces trained on trellises, meet our eyes, and the friendly, civil, and very laborious North Italian country people in their simple cottages look just as happy as the rich elegants, residing in these lovely parts in villas. The road, passing through a very mountainous landscape, is nevertheless almost quite level, guiding across broad valleys and over the Brembana River by immense long stone bridges of great height and with very many fine arches.

From Lecco we went straight north, all along the green Como Lake to Colico. The road is as smooth as a board, the weather fresh and sunny, and the scenery charmingly beautiful and constantly changing. After having done 71 miles on this our first day, and finding in the little village of Dorio, close to the Lake, a friendly little Italian Albergo (inn), we stayed there the night. When, early on the next morning, we swirled into the streets of the town Colico, we met on the steamship landing place a married couple, who had overnight stayed in this town in a “grand” hotel, where they paid out far too much money, and could not sleep for the noise of the musical, lively Italian people. The scenery about this northern part of the Congo Lake, which reaches far into the very heart of the snow-capped Switzer Alps, surpasses every other on the Lake, for here, at the base of these majestic heights, nestle lovely little villages, and some green little islands in the Lake look very pretty.

From Colico we took the steamer to return southwards to Como. This steamer called in a zig-zag at all stations along the whole length of this very charming Lake. There were many English-speaking passengers on board the steamer of all descriptions. Mrs. R. found a most charming real old English lady, who travels Italy every summer with husband and daughter, and in their most interesting chit-chat Mrs. R. learned many pretty stories. This venerable lady lives at the idyllic villa township of Cernobbio, and kindly invited us to her home; but we could not accept, and parted. At Cernobbio, a few kilometers north of Como, is a very old castle with grand park and garden, in which Queen Carolina of England resided when she was for so many years separated from King George. Now, of course, this castle is turned into an immense hotel, and is crowded with fashionable throngs.

The town of Como, as seen from the Lake, looks very beautiful, but is squeezed in a narrow low valley, and to live there seems not very tempting. After a hearty meal and rest, and after putting bikes in order, we set out for Lugano. We first had to walk and lead our machines about 5 miles, over a pretty steep mountain, and overtook an elegant society coach dragging upwards very slowly, as the elegant dressed gentry inside of it were forced, to get the heavy cumbersome vehicle along, to put an assisting relay of four stout but very slow working bullocks in front of the two exhausted horses. When we, laughing and gaily singing, overtook this grand party, the toffs looked rather crest-fallen.

From the top of the hill at last we had a very charming view all over lake, hills, towns, gardens, and stretching far above the clouds ice and snow-crowned Alpine peaks. Then we hurled down the gentle sloping, winding roads, and had soon quite a different landscape before us. We passed the boundary between Italy and Switzerland, and observed that we had arrived in a land whose Government, already in long-gone times had—unlike Italy and New South Wales—a thoughtful eye on forest preservation and forest cultivation. The foresters in Switzerland, like in Germany and mostly all Europe, are not bullying gendarmes for timber-license holders, but studied, intelligent preservers and planters of young forests on bare sterile mountains, thereby bettering clime and rainfall. We passed again through beautiful shady forests, never to be seen in Italy. Although in Switzerland, the inhabitants speak the Italian language. As we belong to the German Touring Club (Munich) we had on the Customhouse stations only to show our papers and could (like on the hitherto passed German, Austrian and Italian boundaries) pass without the slightest delay. Along a young planted very dense forest, exactly along the boundary of these two States, spans a very high wire-netting fence, which we took to be a hedge against enclosed stags and other game, but as the nettings were furnished with very many small bells everywhere, we inquired of the Customs officer, and were informed that on dark nights these bells were an assistance to the watching boundary guards, as it had frequently happened that smugglers had crawled through this dense young forest-scrub with loads of contraband goods on their backs, and with the help of pincers, cut holes through the wire-netting. When, in conversation about this point, I suggested to do away with all this fencing off of human fellow-creatures and introduce all over Europe international freetrade, the great crowd of fat Custom-house officers raised united protestations: “The world would get entirely out of order if the great number of Customs officers would lose their billets.”

Running along the eastern side of the Lugano Lake we came from Capolago to Bissone, a remarkably ancient looking circle of strange cloister-like stone buildings on the Lugano Lake, where we took a rest under such a rare gigantic Linden tree as we never before saw. The very ancient tree bore on a trunk of more than five feet diameter such an enormous high and wide spreading crown that it covered an immense space. This tree appeared to be quite sound. We drank a liter of the excellent and cheap red country wine, and our eyes wandered silently over the lovely landscape and the peaceful breathing Lake, whose gentle surf splashed playfully at our feet.

From Brione, on top of a syke, the road runs across the Lugano Lake in length of about half a mile to Melide. From here, northwards to Lugano, the landscape along the road on the lake is of so indescribable charming and ever-changing beauty that we walked almost the whole stretch. We first came to the little village of Paradeso, from where a cog-wheel railway goes up the steep Mount St. Salvatore, and three minutes ride brought us into the beautiful town of Lugano. There are lovely public gardens along the lake for the many visitors, and many ultra grand hotels. But we both were of one opinion, after a good rest and repast in a small, clean pension, that Lugano is the most beautiful little town, on the grandest lake of those we hitherto saw on Italian grounds, and this is to a great part caused by the great charm the presence of forests gives to a landscape. Mountains and water alone, however, studded with old and new buildings, does not bring perfection, but need the third factor: forests, in their manifold verdure and character of foliage.

We got up early in the morning, which in this season is bright at 4 o’clock a.m., and walked about for several hours, had breakfast, and then started for Lake Maggiore. We found the road a tough one, too steep to ride up or down, but we met some other touring bicyclists also leading their steel horses, perspiring along, and had the best and friendliest advice as to roads, routes, etc. After reaching Ponte Tresa, the road runs at last level along a swift flowing river, through dense forests and grand cultivations, where we from Switzer territory again landed over the boundary into Italy. A run of 22 miles brought us to the town of Luino, on the east side of Lago Maggiore, where we were lucky enough to just catch the steamer for the other side, where a splendid road runs all along the lake.

While waiting at Luino, on the beach near the landing place of the steamer, we were much amused by the singing and playing of a very funny old brown Italian man of perhaps 75 to 80 years. He had a very original old-fashioned instrument, made from a hollow dry pumpkin on a stick, and few fiddle strings in shape of a violin, with just such an original bow. The pumpkin did duty also as a money box. The white haired, rough old fellow must have been an original character, as he sang an Italian funny verse for each of his listeners in turn, according to the impression they made on him.

From Luino we crossed over this beautiful broad lake to Conobbio, on the west side, and thence a splendid run of about 20 miles brought us to Locarno, at the north end of the lake. No where on the Italian lakes have we seen such lovely forest-covered mountains as here on the western side of Lake Maggiore. The mountains are very high, the tops permanently covered with snow, but there are fertile valleys and gentle slopes so well watered that under the piercing sun everything cannot help growing luxuriantly. Here almost every kind of crop is cultivated; lemons, olives, and apples, pears, quinces, apricots, figs, cherries, etc., etc. Mulberry trees are also much cultivated, as here, as everywhere in Italy, the silkworm plays an important part in the Italian households. But all kinds of vegetables, as well as maize, wheat, rye, etc., is to be seen in broad fields or flat parts. Higher up, between constantly rushing small and big waterfalls on the mountain sides, are lovely forests and shrubberies of oak, maple, pine, ash, willows, poplars, and mainly chestnut (of the edible kind); also gigantic walnut trees, etc., etc. Locarno is situated amongst formidable steep and high snowclad mountains, but rather over-crowded by foreign visitors; therefore we, on the following morning, very early started on a route all along the westerly side of this long lake for Pallanza, far down in the south.

After a somewhat sultry day, we passed the small village of Ghiffa, about 10 miles off Pallanza, when we heard behind black clouds the grumble of thunder, and some raindrops fell. At the same time, our eyes fell on a small cardboard hung in front of a snug little house, notifying that furnished rooms were to let. We went in, and found in the upper story two snug, well-furnished rooms, with two beds, verandah, windows towards the lake and street, bathing and cooking accommodation, therefore we took immediate possession by payment of 7 lira (8d English) per week. Our landlord has a small farm on the hill close by, and furnishes us regularly with wine, milk, eggs, butter, bread, etc. A good restaurant and store are close by. Especially the wine is of excellent quality (70 centesimi p. liter). We found ourselves at Ghiffa soon so homely that we remained a fortnight, and we would have stayed longer but the long waited for warm and dry weather, necessary to cross the very high and dangerous Simplon Pass across the Alps, set in, and therefore we sent our heavy luggage by railway across the St. Gothard Pass to Basle (Switzerland), and went per wheel straight west to Domodossola.

Our sojourn at Ghiffa reminds us very much of our home at Coff’s Harbour. We have two little rooms with a fireplace, the same as in Australia, where we can cook our coffee in the early morning, fry our eggs and bacon, and have a snug bathing place on the lake. This is one of the loveliest residences we have ever had, bar none, out of Coff’s Harbour. A grand even road leads to Palanza, Aravalona, Stresa, and Baveno to the south, and to Connobbio, Lacarno, etc., to the north along the lake, and towards the west are most beautiful mountain walks on equally good roads to the many old-fashioned Italian villages and farms on these high Alpine mountains. There are here villages and farms so immensely high and steep that no horse has ever been there, and it is quite miraculous the heavy weights their sturdy women carry in large baskets on their backs, strapped to their backs, and how they climb steep precipices to cut the splendid grass, dry it to hay, and carry it in monstrous large bundles up and down steep mountain tracks.

The Italians in the northern parts of Italy take model by the neighbouring Teuton population, and are very clean, sober and well laboured. Several large factories, driven by the cheap power of the constantly rushing down of waterfalls from the mountains, are near Ghiffa: hat factories, silk factories, and also a very large iron and steel foundry, engine factory (owned by a German Swiss named Züst), gives employment to many hundreds of men and girls of these villages.

All along the lake from Locarno to Arona are most lordly and beautiful villas and castles of rich people with grand parks and gardens; but as these people only come here for two or three months in spring or harvest time, they are of no help or blessing to the country or people. They have for their unproductive gardens and parks the best land, which is walled in by very high stone walls, and very often block up in a very offensive and impertinent way the view of a magnificent landscape for other people.

Our Australian eucalyptus trees, latterly so very much prized for their medicinal virtues, and frequently cultivated in all parts of Italy, are—in consequence of the very extraordinary severe last winter hereabouts, as also in other parts of northern Italy which we have visited—save one or two, quite dead. Some few years ago there was here a great craze for eucalyptus leaves, which were used as medicine. Twenty leaves used to cost 1d (10 centissimi) in the chemists’ shops. But they are at present cheaper. These leaves are put in bottles and brandy poured over them. This drink tasted afterwards like turpentine, and is used as a household remedy against every evil.

The lake is full of fish, but all of very small size. The fishing with hooks is free. When it is thundery weather shoals of fish are to be seen close by. As the fluffy seeds of the cotton-like poplar flowers are blown in great masses into the lake, we can observe from our windows how they are at once snapped up by the little fish, which in a very funny way jump high up and tumble one over another.

The renowned Kur-Orts, Palanza and Baveno are most lovely little places, and we have often been there with our wheels and drunk coffee on the splendid terraces, and observed the many gondolas on the lake crossing to and fro from the shores to three beautiful small islands situated here between Palanza and Baveno in a charming bay of the lake. In this bay, near the town of Gravalona, are extensive granite quarries. It is very interesting to behold how, in these stone cutting works, granite slabs to 20 feet in length, 3 and 4 feet broad, and 1 foot thick are cut out in great masses, and columns in lengths of 50 feet, and up to a diameter of 3 and 4 feet. Fine building stones of all shapes are turned out, and the stone (a bluish looking granite) is all through of equally fine grain.

We left Ghiffa on the 8th June, bound for Basle. We intend to go via Domodossola, across the Simplon Pass, which is about 7000 feet above the sea level. This road was begun to be built by Napoleon I., and leads through regions of everlasting snow and ice. At present the Governments of Switzerland and Italy are beginning to blast, starting from both sides, to create a line of immense railway tunnels through this part of the Alps.