A son of Switzerland gives it his all and he'll have a dozen years to rest before he is called on again. Photo / Switzerland Tourism
A son of Switzerland gives it his all and he'll have a dozen years to rest before he is called on again. Photo / Switzerland Tourism
Since prehistoric times the good people of the Bernese Highlands have been throwing stones, lately for fun, writes Eli Orzessek.
Powered by a large bottle of Rivella — Switzerland's signature fermented milk soft drink – a strapping Swiss lad lifts an 83.5kg stone to his shoulder and takes his position at the beginning of a short track.
Unspunnenfest, Swiss Festival that happens once every 12 years.
Like a shotput on steroids, Steinstossen — literally "stone-throwing" — is believed to have been practiced since prehistoric times. And as the competitor lets out a bellow and his boulder flies through the air, I can really see that caveman history in action.
Alongside wrestling, alpine-horn blowing and yodelling, stone-throwing is the centrepiece of the competitions at Unspunnenfest – a traditional event held about every 12 years in the Bernese resort town of Interlaken.
Yes, you read that right. With a festival every 12 years, Unspunnenfest is a pretty rare occurrence – and I feel quite honoured to be here to enjoy the spectacle of it all.
As its name would suggest, the town of Interlaken straddles a narrow valley between two lakes. On a perfect summer's day, the glacier-fed lakes Thun and Brienz look like something out of a Kodachrome postcard – the sparkling waters are so blue it seems otherworldly. Surrounding the town, the peaks of Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau make for a dramatic backdrop, with gliders dotting the skies.
I'm lucky enough to arrive on one of those picture-perfect days and the view out of my hotel window is nothing short of breathtaking. A few clouds drift dreamily across the mountains and the quaint buildings of the town below look as if they're out of a fairytale.
In the lobby, we're welcomed by a quartet playing traditional Swiss music — with no less than two accordions.
Unfortunately for Unspunnenfest, the sunny weather decides to not stick around and the rain clouds move in. Despite the long wait between festivals, there are no rain checks — so this time around, the traditional attire stretches to include umbrellas and rather fetching clear plastic rain ponchos.
The history of the festival dates to the 13th century, when it started as a way for the cities of Unspunnen and Bern to resolve their differences. It was first officially held in 1805, but the original ceremonial stone used in the Steinstossen competition was promptly lost, before being replaced in 1808.
That was stolen in 1984 as a "political hostage" by separatists from the francophone region of Jura. By the time it was recovered in 2001, it had been engraved by the group, losing 2.3kg in the process — so yet again, a new stone was chosen for competitions. The 1808 stone was stolen again in 2005 – replaced by a cobblestone bearing the Jura coat of arms — and still hasn't beenfound.
As you can see, there's a lot of history and drama to take in — almost too much to possibly get your head around in one weekend.
The festival gets its name from the Unspunnen Castle and takes place in a meadow near its ruins — which handily happens to be right along the main road. This area is filled with food stalls, traditional Swiss arts and crafts, farm animals and of course, the ongoing competitive activities. Inside a large raucous marquee, a sit-down dinner is served for large groups. We spend our first night here watching couples young and old take to the stage in traditional costume to dance. It's all very Sound of Music. You can't really escape the accordion at Unspunnenfest, so it's best to just embrace it. After a few giant beers with my travelling companions, we're oompahing along in no time.
The weather clears slightly the next morning, which brings a perfect opportunity to take a funicular ride up the Harder Kulm mountain. It's a leisurely 10-minute crawl up the side of the mountain, with incredible views of the town and bustling festival grounds along the way.
Greeting us at the viewing platform 1322m above sea level is a fibreglass cow that looks out pensively over the lake. Nearby, the Harder Kulm Panorama Restaurant has put one the best breakfast spreads I've ever seen. If there's one I've learned in Switzerland, it's that the cheese and bread is really world class — and you're bound to come home a bit heavier. As usual, my eyes are bigger than my stomach and I can't finish all the food I've piled on my plate. Unfortunately, this has consequences. An Austrian woman in my group admonishes me that if you don't finish all your breakfast, you'll be punished with bad weather.
As we step outside, it starts raining again and I feel very guilty. Especially as raindrops on the fibreglass cow make it look if she's crying. But luckily, we still have our ponchos at the go.
Back at the festival, the constant drizzle doesn't seem to be spoiling anyone's fun. Kids are having a go at "Swiss Golf", another interesting regional sport. Like a cross between baseball and golf, this involves hitting a puck off a platform with a large stick into the opponent's area. However, today they are playing with a tennis ball, which goes a bit further.
Melting cheese is pared off to top steak. Photo / Getty Images
Nearby, a stoic-looking man in Swiss traditional costume sternly demonstrates the processes of cheese making as yodelling fills the air. Locals young and old link arms and march loudly and proudly through the grounds. There are some impressive moustaches on display — the owner of one lets out an impressive "Yooooo hoooo hooo" as he passes.
But the main thing to watch is definitely the stone-throwing, where crowds are growing as the competition continues. It's quite the spectacle when you're standing right at the end of the track, with a huge boulder flying towards you — even more so when the Patrouille Suisse start their air show overhead.
By the final day of the festival, the clouds have cleared — which is very timely, as a major highlight is set to take place. The Unspunnenfest's Grand Parade sees the entire town — plus a fair few cows — march from Interlaken West train station to Interlaken East.
Unspunnenfest, Swiss Festival that happens once every 12 years.
Perched in the stands drinking beer, it's a great vantage point to watch the some 4000 participants pass by. The deafening sound of multiple ringing cowbells opens the parade, as some prize bovine specimens are walked down the road, followed by marching bands, Bernese mountain dogs and costumed riders on horseback. And of course, the famous Unspunnen stone also makes an appearance.
It's the longest and probably the noisiest parade I've ever witnessed. The never-ending stream of marchers just keep getting weirder and weirder — including guys in Where the Wild Things Are-style costumes hooning on dirt bikes, marchers with comically tall top hats and cowbells around their necks and a group cracking giant rope whips. But they're all outdone by the guys firing guns in the air — that's something you don't see every day.
As two hours pass, the groups start to repeat themselves — and the guns and whips don't really mix well with a hangover. My new Russian friend and I make a break for the peaceful shores of Lake Brienz, where we enjoy a drink and a debrief. I was meant to leave for Basel shortly after the festival but, looking out over the calm blue water, I decide to crack another beer and catch the later train.
