The Hawaiian gazette. [volume] (Honolulu [Oahu, Hawaii]) 1865-1918, 1910-06-03
THE FINEST AUTOMOBILE
RIDE IN THE WORLD

respect which the mountains themselves
commanded, and by the occasional
glimpse Of the ubiquitous Swiss bayo,
net, thrust over stone wall OF pile
of rocks. In st. Gothard Pass you arc
always between two evils You must
not stay in the pass more than your
allotted two hours and You must not
exceed certain speeds to get out of IL
in that time. However, you are not
angry at restrictions. The road is dan,
gerous enough when you are the only
traveller on it. 1t is no place for meet.
ing other automobiles. "Joy riders"
should not come here.
The man behind the bayonet never
speaks and you do not answer. Sign
Language is sufficient. We, in the
climbing car, did not even talk to one
another. There are some places where
conversation is proclamation. This is
one Of them.
The echoing blast of an Alpine horn
put us in a culver. It meant the ap-
proach of a skidding stage coach de-
scending with wheels locked. We took
no chances in passing vehicles on that
road. Fortunately. there is little other
traffic than the mail coaches, few
local carts travelling short distances
and, in the lower attitudes, herds of
sheep.
Once we shot down sharp and un.
expected decline TO find ourselves head.
ed for a small black hole in the face
of an immense expanse of rock. There
was Just room to steer the car into
it clear Of the walls. Daylight was
snapped out in the infinite blackness.
We we're scared, but we did not light
the lamps. For what seemed day,
and probably was a quarter of an hour,
we drove through this winding tunnel
guided only by the reverberation Of
She thrilling motor against the rock.
When at last we left the streak of
night, we found the winding shelf illu-
mined by the mellow lights of evening.
Again we climbed, climbed and climbed
up the mountain wall. 1t was cold and
we huddled together in the car.
We ran through snow, blown in icy
sheets against our faces. Looking up
ward, the pass was family and more
mainly marked at each successive turn
it took along the mountain. It seemed
an unending journey to the peak above,
and when that goal was reached, we
saw again the zigzag pathway to the
next.
The wonderful background of lurid
fires where the sun sank behind the
glistening snow caps; the devious road
disappearing in the subdued colors Of
cloud-toned twilights; the great soli
tude-all of it was awesome, fascinat
ing, overwhelming.
Tensely silent, we rode to the high
est point. There the strain was broken
by the marvellous beauty of the piano.
rama spread at our feet. We stopped
and clambered out of the car for
last look over the valleys and peaks,
snow drifts and glaciers, rivers and
villages, passes and tunnels Of this Al
pine region as pictured from the tur-
rets of Galenstock.
For an hour we had not spoken. We
were chilled to the bone. There had
been no sound except the ceaseless
purring of the motor. Our farewell
glance upon the scene was lingering
one. The winding four-mile descent
to Andermat was begun reluctantly.
Once on the way, however, we slid and
scrambled down that shelf as fast as
we could without going over its side.
That was the hardest job of steering
ever have done. It was case of
100 per cent. accuracy, because there
was no allowance at any place along
the twisting road for the mistake of
an inch.
Afterward, we continued our tour
through Europe, (some 5000 miles al
together) but that, to me, is always
another story. Whenever I think of
those fourteen miles on st. Gothard
Pass, Immediately forget all of the
other automobiling which have done
in deep appreciation of the wonders of
this finest of all automobile rides there
are in the whole wide world.