July 7 The Glacier Express has not arrived when I arrived at the station, about 8:30 a.m. It has an electric locomotive and is, at this stage, 14 cars long, which later will be down to 6 cars in the mountains because of the steep grades. Most of the red coaches are the same type as those on the regular train from Chur. There are first- and second-class coaches; seats in both sections are reserved. I find my single, forward-facing seat by a window.

As the trains pulls out on time at 9:30 a.m. I felt the tingle that should accompany any of life’s special departures, the trips that we know we will only make once and then remember always.

Ahead now, about eight hours of up-and-down mountain railroading awaits, from almost 2,000 feet above sea level in the valleys to more than 6,700 feet at the passes - 169 miles of narrow-gauge track, 291 bridges, and 91 tunnels, all operated in complete mechanical harmony by three separate companies working as one.

Soon after St. Moritz, we began entering tunnels, like sliding into dark sleeves. Back into sunlight again, we passed roaring streams and some waterfalls, small silver plumes surrounded by mist. The riverbeds below are a chaos of boulders and smashed trees. I see hikers far below on trails.

I was booked to a reserved-place lunch in the dining car at 11:30 a.m. The dining car is a widely advertised belle epoque number, all wood paneled, with heavy brass fixtures and a yellow-brown carpetbag tapestry on the seats. It is operated by a catering company that is independent of the railroad. Service is at a hurried pace. The table d’hote lunch is Schweinssteak (a pork cutlet), heapings of vegetables assortments, potatoes, and salad. No other choices and no substitution either. We were in and out of the dining car in less than an hour to make room for the second seating at the 12:30. Why the hurry? Well, another Glacier Express is coming in the opposite direction, so our dining car must be uncoupled at the next station and joined to the other train for the trip back to St. Moritz. It’s fast food, Swiss style.

At the mid-journey village of Disentis (3,700 feet above sea level), there is a seam in the journey: Without moving from our seats, we changed railway companies and (locomotives) and began the first ascents and descents via rack-rail systems (cog wheels on the locomotive engage a toothed rack mounted between the rails). Gradients of 110 percent lie ahead, which is why this "express" train average less than 25 miles per hour. For the remaining four or so hours to Zermatt, the GE rumbles reassuringly whenever its iron geared machinery engages the rack on steep uphill and downhill sections.

The headwaters of the Rhine are soon list in deep gorges as the train grinds upward through spectacular mountains and over bridges toward the highest point on the trip, the Oberalp Pass at 6,706 feet. The area is brilliant and with some snow covering the ground. The 2,000 foot descent to Andermatt (another winter sports center) is slow and steep, the train bumping along on its cog wheels through many switchbacks. What was once the most forbidding section of the Glacier Express journey lies between the tiny, mountain-encircled town of Andermatt and the beginning of the Rhone Valley. The Furka Pass rises to 7,076 feet in the vicinity of the Rhone Glacier and was impenetrable in winter. The 9 1/2-mile-long Furka Tunnel, opened in 1982, bores under and around the obstacles of the pass - but also obscures a mountain panorama, including the Rhone Glacier, that earlier travelers called the most spectacular in the Alps. The winter’s traveler’s gain is now the summer traveler’s loss; year-round service via the tunnel has cost GE passengers a famous vista in any season.

We arrived at Brig and another locomotive company uncouples cars for the final journey to Zermatt.

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