Off to see Jungfrau

Some time ago, my wife and I embarked once again on a journey to Europe. The main purpose of the trip was a visit to Jungfrau. The German name, meaning “maiden" or "virgin," aptly captures this mountain's pristine beauty. More than a geographical feature, Jungfrau embodies nature's majesty and has long inspired awe in all who behold it.

Although Jungfrau, at 4,158 meters above sea level, is lower than Mont Blanc, the highest peak in the Alps at 4,808 meters, it is widely regarded as one of the Alps' most celebrated mountains. Its enduring popularity owes much to the mountain railway that offers easy access to this awe-inspiring part of the world.

On our way, we stopped in Paris, which we had visited twice in the past. We spent two days revisiting the familiar landmarks of the city. Even as we walked along the Seine and passed by its historic monuments, my thoughts were already drifting toward the Alps.

From Paris, we boarded a train bound for Geneva. As the train sped across the French countryside, fields and villages slipped past the window like scenes in a moving painting. About three hours later, we arrived. From there, we took a coach to Interlaken, a tranquil town nestled peacefully between lakes and mountain peaks.

Our ascent to Jungfrau began in Interlaken. We boarded a mountain train that climbed steadily across the Bernese Alps. As the train gained elevation, the scenery outside the window gradually transformed. The green meadows dotted with wooden chalets slowly gave way to bare rock. Soon, the rock disappeared beneath a vast expanse of snow and ice. With each passing moment, it felt as though we were leaving behind the familiar world of human habitation and entering a more ancient and elemental domain.

When we finally arrived at the highest railway station in Europe, I stepped out of the station with a sense of wonder. The air was cold and the brightness of the snow was almost blinding. I moved carefully along the snowy path toward the observation deck. All around me was immersed in deep silence, broken only by the faint sound of the wind and the soft crunch of snow beneath my feet.

From the observation deck, not only the summit of Jungfrau but also the neighboring peaks of Mönch and Eiger came into full view. The peaks rose like enormous frozen waves, their white slopes glowing under the sunlight. Below them stretched the Aletsch Glacier, the largest glacier in the Alps, extending across the mountains like a vast frozen river. The sight was both beautiful and humbling. It was a reminder of the immense forces of nature that had shaped this landscape over countless ages.

Standing there, I realized that the Alps were more than a scenic destination; they invited quiet reflection. In the presence of such grandeur, the concerns of everyday life seemed distant and insignificant.

After descending from Jungfrau, we did not fly back home. Instead, we continued our journey, visiting Milan, Venice, Florence and Rome in succession. Each city offered its own beauty and history, yet the memory of Jungfrau remained the most vivid.

Long after the journey ended, the image of those silent, towering peaks stayed with me. It is a lasting reminder of nature’s majesty and of a moment when I felt part of something far greater than myself.

Lee Hyon-soo is a retired international banker based in Toronto, Canada and the author of “Tales of A Modern-day Nomad,” among other books.