Gone With the Wind

Châteaux-d’Oex is a sleepy little alpine village that is surely keeping a low profile. So low that not many people outside of Switzerland have ever heard of it. Unless by chance they happen to be hot air balloon enthusiasts. In that case, this place is the Navel of the World.

Flying in the hot air balloons and the exploitation of wind energy for flying purposes may have been a thing around the time of the Montgolfier brothers, but nowadays, the billowing feathery mastodons just look incredibly graceful and pretty. No hidden reason for their existence but to decorate the clear skies in the Swiss valley of Châteaux-d’Oex every January. And the objects that exist solely because they are beautiful will always be the thing. After all, beauty is always a goal in itself.  Art for art’s sake indeed. The balloons are vibrantly coloured, creatively named and they exude individuality in terms of shape and design. There were lions, cats, and centipedes galore.

The reputation of the festival made Châteaux-d’Oex the starting point of the first nonstop flight around the world by balloon, which took place in 1999. Wikipedia claims that the pilots carried with them a book that was inscribed by Jules Verne, who had imagined such a flight in his novel, Five Weeks in a Balloon. The book had been loaned to them to carry for good luck by a grandson of Jules Verne from the novelist’s personal library. I loved this life-meets-fiction anecdote so much that I would gladly fight anyone who said it wasn't so.  

Apart from the festival, this is a tiny place where time seems to have come to a standstill. The atmosphere is slow-paced, dreamy, and cozy, with the sweet melody of French floating around you. The locals are very friendly, and the organist in the church even grants musical wishes. “Play it again, Sam!” I wanted to urge him but hated to spoil the sacral silence.  The presence of the Anglican church in the village suggests the vibrant expat community and gives a slightly international feel to the community.

As the last remaining balloons were sluggishly drifting on the horizon, framed by the rugged snow-capped mountain peaks,  we left the enchanted Châteaux-d’Oex behind. We set off with two intentions on our minds. Firstly, to come again next year and attend the Night Glow, during which the illuminated, sparkling balloons are bulging in the night sky like giant oriental lanterns. And secondly, to try to understand the meaning of the balloon competition that was apparently being taken seriously during the festival. What on Earth could the rules be? Anyone?