Finding Axalp - The Mountain Too Far
Prose and Photography: Richard Souza
If you have been following Full Disc Aviation, you would know that we recently released a piece (by friend and collaborator Matt Mansell) that left us with our jaws dragging on the floor. I have to be honest, and in the interest of full transparency, not only was my jaw a little bruised, but so was my ego. Let it be known that it wasn’t anything that Matt did. In fact, I was thrilled. If anyone could knock it out of the park, it would be Matt. It's just that, unbeknownst to Matt and everyone at Full Disc Aviation, this story brought back a mixed bag of emotions and feelings. This was all tied to my quest to reach the mountain top.
I don’t think that there is an aviation photographer who hasn’t dreamed of the low level trifecta. From the Mach Loop to Star Wars Canyon and of course AXALP, I am no different. When Full Disc Aviation was formed, we all strived to find something unique and original to photograph. While there is nothing unique or original about these three locations, they were within our extended sewing circle. When James and my Brodah, Nick, ventured to the Canyon, and Robert Griffiths captured Eagles at the Loop, I knew that I had to complete the triangle. The Swiss Air Force’s live fire exercise, known as AXALP, is an event that, due to the logistics and cost involved in getting there, it is just too much dirt for the average dump truck. Having a home base in Portugal, I knew I could leverage this advantage for the benefit of FDA. It would be my opportunity to experience what, in my opinion, is the pinnacle of low level flying.
I kept these plans to myself. Only through very cryptic messages did the most perceptive of FDA pick up on the fact that I had made my way to Switzerland. I wanted to surprise the guys with something special, as well as challenge myself by doing this on my own. With every step and every stage, the anticipation grew and the more this adventure meant to me. I put it in my mind and in my heart that I needed to climb that mountain.
If I had never believed in signs or foreshadows, this was the time to start. Arriving in Zurich late afternoon, I relied on the rental car’s GPS to get me to my destination. Unfortunately it took me to a one horse town in the middle of nowhere (two hours in the wrong direction). The air show Gods were trying to tell me something. Because of this “glitch”, I did not reach the hotel until 2 am. Needless to say, that single event caused a cosmic disturbance that unaligned the planets.
There is an old saying: “the early bird gets the worm”. That isn’t the case when you wake up late and miss the morning of the practice day. Making the best of the afternoon, I went to Meiringen Air Base. Vehicles were allowed to park on the taxi way which was but a leisurely walk (through the village) to the base. There were ample places to spot from but I chose to spend the afternoon on the rooftop viewing area above the cafeteria/mess hall. It offered a good view of the activity around the field. As Swiss Air Force Puma’s shuttled folks up to the mountain, the sound of jets and gun fire could be heard throughout the valley. Cow bells from grazing cattle clanked, as Hornets came to life with a roar inside the cavernous hangars, deep inside the mountain. As the excitement built, I was about to get drenched with the first bucket of cold water.
The weather forecast for the first day of the exercise looked dismal. It was announced that the following day’s event would be canceled. Weather is always a factor in any aviation event and is to be expected. This news didn’t really bother me because, the weather for the second day of the event was looking so bright… I had to wear shades. With such a forecast, it wouldn’t be long before I would achieve my dream and capture jets in the Alps.
At 3am that Wednesday morning, the alarm went off. The excitement was such that I just sprang out of bed. I was geared up and ready to go by 4am. I went through my mental check list two or three times, just to make sure I had everything. Once I got on the shuttle bus, I knew there was no turning back. Out of force of habit, I checked my cell phone for any messages. I noticed a late message from Robert Griffiths. As I read it, my heart sank. I had just gotten drenched with the second bucket of cold water. To be accurate, I had just been pushed into the cold, freezing and unforgiving Artic Ocean. The Swiss Air Force discovered a crack in an aileron of one of the Hornets. The decision had been made to ground the fleet. In effect, AXALP 2019 was officially canceled.
How can I put into words how I was feeling at that moment? A range of emotions came over me. I didn’t know if I wanted to scream, sulk or just cry. I know it sounds childish, but there was so much anticipation and hope built up that I felt absolutely defeated. All my dreaming and planning (not to mention the expense) seemed to be in vain.
The sun and this Alpine town were still deep in sleep. I was all dressed up and nowhere to go. What was I going to do? I did what any un-rational person (in a state of semi denial) would do, I had to walk to the train station. It wasn’t enough to see the posting on the official website, I felt I needed hard concrete evidence. At the event pick up point by the station, someone posted a sign stating the event had been canceled. The sign was a flimsy piece of paper taped to a pole. Somehow that was the official seal I had been searching for. Now things really began to sink in. My heart had reached the ocean floor and was forever trapped by the polar ice caps. Dawn had yet to crack and I was alone in the streets of Brienz. I walked the few yards to the dock on the lake. It was there, with the chill coming off the water, that I had my moment of clarity. Now that everything was canceled, why not just enjoy the moment? I had nothing to do and nowhere to go. How bad can life really be?
Rays of light began to peek over the mountains. Dawn slowly took over the night as I was just “sitting on the dock”… yeah, you know the tune. “Sitting in the mornin’ sun… two thousand miles, I roam, just to make this dock my home”. I was sitting on the dock on Lake Brienz… watching the sun roll in. I began to notice little things, the sound of water as it splashed against the dock, the silhouettes of the roof tops and the smoke billowing from the chimneys. As the town started to come to life, my ocean of solitude slowly got crowded. I slipped back to the hotel for a cup of coffee and began to ponder how to make lemonade with my newly acquired bag of lemons.
When I landed in Zurich a few days earlier, night had fallen. I reached Brienz at the dead of night. I could not see much beyond the areas illuminated by street lights. During the entire, misdirected, trip to this lakeside town, I felt a physical presence. As I drove on the silk smooth highways, I felt something massive surrounded the atmosphere. When I finally woke up after the late night journey, I pulled back the curtain, opened the balcony door and stepped out. I looked in astonishment and was humbled by the presence of one of the most beautiful natural settings I had ever seen. Less than 50 yards away was turquoise colored Lake Brienz, and the presence I had felt was the Swiss Alps. Now with no time constraints, I could explore the beauty of this little piece of paradise.
At the train station, I noticed the Brienz Rothorn railway across the street. This mountain train climbs the 4.7 miles to the summit of Brienzer Rothorn. I purchased a ticket and it was “all aboard”. No better way to kill time than climbing a mountain in a steam locomotive. I just had to sit back and enjoy the view. With every turn up the mountain, the temperature would drop a few degrees. This mattered not because with every turn, the view got more spectacular. After an hour or so of the most relaxing train ride, I reached the summit. I made the short slippery walk up the icy inclined path, to the lodge. Sitting at a table by the big windows, I sipped a hot chocolate which, at this point, tasted like sweet lemonade.
From the mountain top, I could see the Brienz/Interlaken ferry cruising the lake. I was already familiar with the ferry. Since the first day of the exercise had been called due to weather, I took a round trip to and from Interlaken. Despite the rain, the two and a half hour trip was an ideal way to see the mountains and landscape along the lake shore. The most notable sight was the waterfall that came down past the beautiful Granhotel Giessbach and into Lake Brienz. This hotel and falls was something I just knew I had to see up close. With my mind set, I finished my hot chocolate and caught the next train down the mountain. The trip down was equally as slow and equally as enjoyable.
The sun was out and temperature was just right. It was quite a contrast from the first time I boarded the ferry days earlier. This time the cruise was much shorter. The Granhotel was the first stop. As the ferry approached the shore, I was treated to the sight and sound of the cascading waters of the fall reaching the lake. The surrounding area took me back to a different era. From the charming ferry station, the Funicular Railway and the hotel, everything appeared to be from a different century. On one side of the hotel was an elevated view of Lake Brienz and on the other was a cascading waterfall that comes from high up the mountain. The falls meander and crash its way down, through a beautiful wooded mountain. Taking a sip of more lemonade, I hiked the paths, up, under and around the fall. Puma helicopters flew overhead, but this time they were ignored. Nature and the beautiful mountain had captured my full attention.
Eventually, my time in Switzerland came to an end. With my bags packed, I pulled back the curtains, opened the door and stepped out to the hotel balcony. I wanted to fill my eyes and take in as much alpine air as I could. There is something quite different and unique about this place. As the aircraft wheels retracted and I left Zurich in the rearview mirror, I looked out the window for one last glimpse. The final image was lake after turquoise lake and rows of snow capped mountains.
As you read this story, it is permissible to ask the question why anyone would want to tell a story about coming home empty handed. Well, as I looked at Matt’s wonderful, stunning images, I was reminded of what I missed. To say “what I missed” is to say “what anyone could have missed”. The point is not to whine about not making it to the mountaintop but to parallel two stories, one of “success” and one of “failure”. I know that is a very harsh word. But I am of a generation that would still fail arithmetic no matter how much and how long you studied. In my eyes, I failed to achieve my goal. That is still a big pill for me to swallow. I know I was at the mercy of the same air show Gods that blessed Matt in his quest. I realized then that I have been spoiled by good fortune. You can’t always get what you want.
I have had plenty of time to think about this. In recent months, I have thought a lot about the things Papa Zulu would tell me. He would have said, “you gave it the old college try”. He would have said what any good Father would say, “it is better to fail trying, than to never have tried at all”. It all makes sense now. My Father would have corrected me and said… “it was a Successful Failure… think about it”. He would have been right and the proof was in front of me as I stood on the hotel balcony or watched the sunrise over this sleepy alpine town.
Shortly after returning home, life and the world around us would change. Our lives were disrupted in a way no person alive has ever seen. The world became a cold, confined, quarantined and divided place. The earth stood still. People lost their routine and structure while others lost their livelihoods and the roofs over their heads. Families lost loved ones and loved ones lost families. Everything that we had been used to radically changed. My quest for AXALP was a foreshadow of things to come. Through a succession of misfortunes I was able to see the light before many were forced to face the reality of an “airshowless” world. It was in Switzerland that I realized I had been missing out on what this world has to offer. The world may have shut down but the raw beauty of Mother Nature remains unscathed.
Through the years, I had been so busy chasing airshows and fast flying jets that I forgot about the simple things in life. I forgot that the sun rises and sets every day. I forgot that chugging up a mountainside in a steam locomotive is something worth photographing. I learned that it is ok to miss an airshow or event. As much as I love aviation, it isn’t important in the grand scheme of things. I learned that I can put the camera down and allow my eyes to capture a memory. Even if that memory is of me, sitting on a mountain top, drinking hot chocolate made from the lemons of life.
As for AXALP, well… there is always next year, or who knows, maybe it’s just a mountain too far.
