In Search of Sherlock

According to the Guinness book of World Records, the most-portrayed movie character is Sherlock Holmes. Considering his ubiquitous presence in modern media, it's hard to believe that only 4 original novels containing Sherlock Holmes exploits were ever published by Conan Doyle himself (though there were dozens of short stories). Perhaps some of this is due to the expired copyrights of the original works, which allows for anyone to write a derivative work royalty-free. In any case, virtually everyone has now heard of Sherlock, but likely have not heard so many details of the actual stories or their development. An interesting phase of the series of writings occurred in 1893, only 6 years after its initial creation. Struggling to make progress with his more serious work, Conan Doyle decided to kill off Holmes.

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"How to do it?" That was the question. Sherlock was far too clever to be completely outsmarted, nor to be axed by a common criminal. No, Conan Doyle needed to provide Holmes a believably-powerful adversary, a logical explanation for the actual demise, and a sufficiently-grand setting for it all to happen in. Strangely, this was provided all at once, in a single short story titled 'The Final Problem'.

Today, it is well-known -at least among Sherlock enthusiasts- that Holmes arch-nemesis is Professor Moriarty. Less-well-known is the fact that Moriarty was introduced and killed in the same tale. It seems rather hasty now, as if we would have expected several stories with which to establish the tone and nature of their rivalry. I suppose it's similar to the effectively weak presence of Darth Maul in Star Wars episode I, when compared to the sinister threat of Darth Vader which was built over the course of three films. At any rate, it appears Conan Doyle was in a hurry to finish Holmes off, and did so relatively few pages after introducing Moriarty. The Professor was intended to be something of an anti-Holmes, lurking in the shadows and pulling strings of a vast criminal network. The powerful character and the danger his continued activity represented was justification enough for Holmes to meet an untimely end, assuming he took Moriarty out with him, in the style of a matter-antimatter annihilation. The only issue left was to sort out how/where it should happen.

It's not exactly certain who first had the idea of killing Holmes by plummeting down a waterfall, though the decision by Conan Doyle to do so seems to have been made while vacationing in Switzerland and seeing a local feature of the small town of Meiringen. The Reichenbach falls are an impressive sight, dropping over 800 feet (250 meters) in multiple steps. As described in 'The Final Problem' by Conan Doyle himself:

"It is, indeed, a fearful place. The torrent, swollen by the melting snow, plunges into a tremendous abyss, from which the spray rolls up like the smoke from a burning house. The shaft into which the river hurls itself is an immense chasm, lined by glistening coal-black rock, and narrowing into a creaming, boiling pit of incalculable depth, which brims over and shoots the stream onward over its jagged lip. The long sweep of green water roaring forever down, and the thick flickering curtain of spray hissing forever upward, turn a man giddy with their constant whirl and clamour. We stood near the edge peering down at the gleam of the breaking water far below us against the black rocks, and listening to the half-human shout which came booming up with the spray out of the abyss."

In the story, a confrontation of Holmes and Moriarty on a ledge near the top of the falls apparently results in their both plunging to their doom, with Dr. Watson returning to find only a pair of terminating sets of footprints. While this remained the end of Professor Moriarty, it did not remove Holmes from the author's work. Pressure from Conan Doyle's fans and publisher eventually convinced him to resurect Sherlock, both by prequel stories, and by those set after the events of 'The Final Problem'.

Today, over 100 years later, the city of Meiringen continues to be famous for this fictional event, drawing serious tourist traffic, especially during the summer months. Having discovered this bit of interesting trivia several months ago, I finally took a Saturday off to have a look at the place myself.

Meiringen is in the canton (Swiss state) of Bern, very nearly in the center of the country, a short way south of Lake Lucern. From my place in Winterthur, travel takes about 3 hours by public transportation. I left shortly after lunch, and reached Meiringen station around 4:00pm. The base of the mountainside where the falls are located is some 20 minutes walk through town, to I decided to take a stroll. The first sight is the Sherlock Holmes Museum, an obviously touristy place during the summer months. A light rain was falling, and the Museum itself was closed for the season, so virtually nobody was around.

A bronze statue sits in front of the Sherlock Holmes Museum

A casual jaunt through town and across the creek just to the south of the rail station brings me to the spot where I expect to travel up to the falls. It's at the bottom of the mountainside on one edge of wide and flat-bottomed valley. Unfortunately, the most convenient way to reach them involves a ride up the single-car funicular which was also closed for the wet season. Not only that, but the whole base station was planted on land belonging to a private hospital of the sort you'd expect to visit when suffering from tuberculosis during the middle of the 19th century. It was slightly unsettling to be wandering around the abandoned lift without anyone else around, but the view as the low-hanging clouds rolled through the gap made me smile.

View of the valley from the base of the hill. The falls are to the left, but hardly visible from the ground.

Disappointed that there was no easy way up to the falls, and I hadn't paid close enough attention at the rail station in town to figure out which footpath would get me there otherwise, I considered hopping back on a train heading home and returning when the funicular was opened in May. But the schedule meant that I'd need to wait nearly an hour for the next one, so I decided to do a bit of exploring, having come all that distance. I left the hospital parking lot and walked up the road a ways, along the direction indicated by a small signpost as being part of the "Sherlock Footpath". As they typically do in Switzerland, the path took a twist out behind some houses, through people's backyards, before heading up the hill.

I always feel like a hobbit on these kinds of trails...

The trail wound around and back up above the hospital. It crossed a small vehicular road, and I realized I could have snuck up to the same location by traipsing through some spots marked "Do Not Enter" from down below. A bridge crossed a swiftly moving stream with a family taking pictures. I snapped a shot or two myself and passed them on my way up the path.

The flow from the falls heads down to the valley by means of this stream.

The path itself didn't appear to lead to the falls, since it ran out counter-clockwise around the mountainside, and as I walked I could hear the sound of crashing water receding above and behind me. After nearly 20 minutes of walking, I made it away from the grassy slopes and the scenery turned more to rocky cliffs - thin slate-like cliffs. The walls of the hillside looked like the burned paper edges of a giant closed book. Knocked at them caused small pieces of thin rocks to un-wedge from their place. The instability of this structure became clear as I rounded a corner on the far side of the mountain; the pathway had completely washed away, and adventurous people had apparently picked at the frail arrangement to make a detour through the mountain itself.

Carved tunnel detour. I think this is supposed to look like a face from the valley.

The formation of the rocks in the mountainside can be seen in this view from the far end of the tunnel.
Small piles of rocks sit where the roof continuously is crumbling.

This short wall is also washing away, but the view of the distant town is nice, and reminds you how far the hike has taken you.

More tunnels. The two large slabs sitting awkwardly on the right hang just above and to the side of the mouth of the tunnel exit, in a manner that makes a guy feel like Indiana Jones when stepping out alive.

Frankly, I don't know how they cut this one...

I encountered an older woman walking her dog in the rain. She had a purple overcoat and mumbled a soft greeting as we passed each other. The rain seemed to dampen her spirits more than mine. In fact, I could barely feel any moisture, as the wind caught the water dripping off the rock overhanging above and blew it out toward the valley. Some swirling mist was the only reminder that we hadn't yet reached the year's warm weather. Eventually, the pathway got to sit more on top of the mountainside and the tunnels disappeared. More wet green grass showed up, as wells as distant rocky cliffs that I wouldn't get close to today.

I was quite worn out just to get this far. Thank goodness I wasn't climbing to the top of that as well.

Actually, I can't guarantee the top isn't considerably more distant and just obscured by the clouds.

Tire-tracks indicate the presence of  other people and likely houses.
These rustic fences and the wet earthy landscape always put me in a good mood.

Rocky rolling grass hilltops

A hatch!
I'd make a joke about it being some old nuclear fallout bunker, but that's probably exactly what it is.

Here's a quaint little farm-ish outfit. It isn't so easy to see that the grassy hill in the background actual juts out in an overhanging way. Maybe not the greatest place for a house, but I'll bet the view of thunderstorms there is amazing.

More rolling hilltops. What would living out here be like?

I wandered on, heading on roughly flat ground. By now, I was sure I had climbed considerably higher than the top of the falls themselves. I ran across several thin streams and creeks which I presumed had at least a portion of the task of feeding the falls, though I didn't know when I would come to them. I passed a signpost which had two markers leading to Meiringen, each one pointing in opposite directions. The one aiming in the direction by which I had come was labeled 50 minutes. The other one-hour 30 minutes. By now I'd learned that the Swiss walking signs are fairly accurate at my pace, perhaps even being a little optimistic in the shortness predicted. I was already tired, but as long as the most climbing was finished, I figured I could keep going.

More distant rocks.

Another half-hour later, and I could hear the rush of a great volume of water. I was getting quite close. Turning the corner, I found myself standing above the falls themselves.

A medium yellow building serves as a restaurant at the top of the mountain, considerably higher than even the top of the closed funicular. The sign indicated it was open, though nobody seemed to be around. It's probably hopping in the thick of August. I walked past it to see the source of the falls carving their way through the raggedy mountaintop.

In another hundred years, this will look considerably different.

Water does a substantial amount of work given enough time.

View of the valley from the top of the falls.

While the battle in the story took place on the East side, it was the West which had the top funicular station, and the majority of the walking trails. I decided to travel down it first before crossing a bridge to the other side.

On the west side of the falls. Note the restaurant at the top. There's also a bus stop, but using that wouldn't be nearly as much fun!

Quite the drop...

Large snail doesn't seem to appreciate the famous landscape of his home.

Near the bottom of the West side, the trail is closed off. I'm not sure if this is just for the season, or because of longer-term trail work, but like a good little Swiss, I made sure to obey the sign, even though nobody was around to enforce it.

...okay, maybe I did poke my head around the corner for a quick look.

I had to try to make it across to the other side, where the event supposedly took place. The cliffside where our fictional hero had struggled with his mortal enemy is still there, though it ends some distance from the falls themselves. Climbing back up the pathway's stairs nearly to the restaurant again, I was able to cross over and down the other side. The view of the falls from the top leading over the edge and out of sight with the town in the background was impressive.

Long way down.

Okay, so you can't see the falls in this picture, but I was there! ...in the rain...

Eventually, I found the right cliff. A plaque embedded in the rock of the mountainside marks the spot.

How do I sign up to become a Reichenbach Irregular?

I had heard that some outfit was using the falls to generate electricity.
While I doubt these installations are part of that, I'm not sure what they are for.

The rest of the trail was a long series of slippery stairs, ultimately leading back to the path above the hospital. In all, the  hike took roughly three hours, and I made it back to the train station in plenty of time to get a kebap before my train arrived. Indicating just how touristy the place is, an obnoxious little bird sat next to me on the park bench, begging - nay, demanding - that I give it part of my food. Clearly, it had been spoiled by many a person before me. The  utter lack of other people was very unique for such an attraction. I suspect that one day I will return, and when I do, I'll see if the view in the warm, but crowded season, is any better. Until then, such scenes are always available by curling up with one of Conan Doyle's tales of Sherlock Holmes.

Coming down off the mountain is always easier than going up.
A brisk walk down the trail, and I was back in the grassy hillside of Meiringen.

It doesn't look attached to anything. Wonder how it hasn't been stolen by now...