The mountain filled my view as I opened my eyes. Clouds dimmed the light but not the beauty. They were in motion, giving hope for sun later in the day.

We made our way to the restaurant for breakfast. Wonderful breads, meats, cheese, fresh eggs you cooked yourself in a pot of boiling water, fruit, and real Swiss muesli. We enjoyed everything, especially the coffee which was closer to what we are used to than the espresso in Italy.

After breakfast, I had time to write at the table and chairs on our balcony as we waited for the clouds to part. By noon, we made our way down to the village and the lazy park stretching along the lake front.

We went to the cruise office and found that the next cruise to Flüelen was in about one hour. We bought tickets and looked for a place to have a coffee while we waited.

Everything in Weggis was much more expensive than anywhere we had been so far. Coffee with a table at an outdoor café would be over $10 each! We decided to buy waters, and an amazing lemony dessert, from a kiosk in the park and sit on a bench to wait.

The ship boarded right on time (think Swiss watches) and we found seats first inside at a table, then a better spot outside on a wide bench facing the east side of the lake. We would have the western view on the way back. The ship was only about half full, so there was plenty of room and people moved around easily. Everyone seemed relaxed, even locals who were using the ferry just to get from one place to another.

It is difficult to describe the absolute majesty of the unrelenting views. Colors that cry out “peace” – varying shades of blue and green in the water, trees, grasses; earthy browns in the houses and on the even darker rooftops; sparks of white on peaks and on the elegant hotels gracing the shore at each stop. The steepness is what bends the mind. Looking at the houses, I feel that if I stepped out one of those doors I would just tumble down the mountainside into the lake. Impossible roads etch sharp lines back and forth up the slopes.

The four hours sailed by as we stopped at villages up and down the lake, passengers getting on and off: hikers with their boots and walking sticks (ironically smoking), teenagers with backpacks, couples young and old, including one older couple who followed one another around the boat, finding a seat for a time, then moving to another. They never walked together. The old man walked stooped over with his mouth open, his shoes never leaving the deck as he shuffled from one foot to the other. He reminded me of Tim Conway’s impression of an old man on the Carol Burnett Show. They always found each other. She was usually the one finding him. But once we saw him shuffling back to her with two ice creams he had purchased from the café.

We decided not to eat on the boat since the dessert before we left seemed to be tiding us over. We arrived back at Weggis at 6 p.m. and walked to the Hotel Viktoria, which someone had recommended as a place we could find traditional Swiss food. I had hoped to get fondue or raclette on our one night in Switzerland, but the man at the restaurant told us that these were served only in the winter months; they were not warm weather foods. That made sense! So we stayed at an outdoor table on the lake and ordered pork cordon blue with French fries (Santo) and veal liver with rösti (me).

The climb back up the hill to our hotel was difficult but I made it. I sat on the balcony in the cooling night air then went to bed early, feeling the beginnings of a sore throat.

Of all the places Mark Twain visited in Europe, Mark Twain found Weggis to be his favorite. He returned once for a 10-week stay when he was mourning the death of his daughter and was looking for a quiet place to regroup. He wrote:

“This is the charmingest place we have ever lived in for repose and restfulness. The scenery is beyond comparison beautiful … Sunday in heaven is noisy compared to this quietness.”

In this stillness, I rested.