Mid-afternoon, barely an hour after leaving the quayside, I find myself drifting off the aft deck on a paddleboard in water so clear it feels as if I’m suspended in thin air. Squinting in the heat, I could be a sun-seeker on the French Riviera or the Adriatic, but this is cruising territory too narrow for any oceangoing vessel, too obscure for any travel agent’s brochure. Rather, the scenery sliding by is braided vineyards, butterfly-strewn woods and summery farms patrolled by pointy-horned cattle. This summer’s most surprising cruise hotspot is Switzerland.
The idea of a cruise in the landlocked Alps may confuse your friends but lately it has begun to take hold — particularly in the undervalued Jura & Three-Lakes region, where a three-day trip around Murten, Biel and Neuchâtel has recently launched. The Swiss have a reputation for keeping things secret, but, happily, I am the first UK writer to test the waters.
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The vessel is MS Attila, not unlike a Thames Clippers cruiser, all polished wood, glossy white and topped with a 40-tonne shipping container cleverly converted into nine smart cabins that would fit just as well in a Citizen M design hotel. This former utilitarian cargo ship now sets sail twice a week round-trip from the spire-dotted town of Murten, roughly two hours by train from Geneva, on a variety of adventures through the shallow valleys between French and German-speaking Switzerland. The cruise I have joined, with sociable, cultured guests who switch seamlessly between English, French and German, offers a succession of excursions, plus activities from paddleboarding to wine tasting.
Jumping off for a swim is also an option, and we’re promised a dip on our first afternoon. The three lakes are connected by two of Switzerland’s longest canals — the half-hidden Broye and Zihl — and in July, both are a summery 23C. You simply hurl yourself in from the rear deck once the captain, Joel Senn, has killed the engine. “We have the largest hotel pool in the country,” he says. With my snout poking up from the surface, like a pig cooling down in the heat, I have a glimpse of the Switzerland most people never get to know: drowsy campsites, fishing pontoons, tranquil marinas. You won’t be disappointed if you don’t see any chocolate-box villages or army-knife peaks here.
Another extraordinary proposition on our first day is the Zihl Canal’s bridges. There are several to cruise under, but one was mistakenly built one metre lower than intended. The solution on board Attila was to construct a retractable lounge and bar next to the open-air upper deck, where guests spend most of their time. After we vacate to the prow, it sinks on pistons and vanishes like a magician’s dream. Then we limbo beneath the steel truss of the Bern-Neuchâtel railway line. It is Swiss engineering at its best — as a solution to its worst.
In a way, the boat recalls the yin and yang of Switzerland too. There is no galley on board, but the idea, says Shawn Pfister, one of the deckhands, is to interact with the villages we pass. “We’re not a regular cruise ship,” he says. “This is about supporting local producers and restaurants.” That leads to a carousel of fresh supplies for breakfast and lunch, with bakers and farmers hand-delivering sugary flans, speck-flecked pies and platters of nutty cheese, herby roast beef, fluffy croissants and squidgy macarons to the boat. It is takeaway food done right.
Our first group dinner is lake perch served in a restaurant in the village of Le Landeron. The second evening, a team of chefs hops aboard in Neuchâtel to deliver a carte du jour of salmon, veal and cheese in the dining room.
Crossing Lake Biel the next morning is worth the early rise: mirrored reflections, sandy beaches, rolling hills, watery mist and, beyond, ribboned vineyards interspersed with the odd chapel spire. St Peter’s Island, to the south, is a narrow isthmus of oak and beech, its straight stretches of shore like a giant’s fingers. Soundtracked by the gentle slap and hiss of the waves, it seems idyllic. Cormorants dry their wings like washing. Ducks take the day off.
Our first stop of the day, St Peter’s is a place intimately associated with refuge. The Enlightenment philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau came here as a fugitive from the nearby village of Môtiers. After years of riling the clergy with his apostasies, the 18th-century influencer was dubbed an Antichrist, then showered with stones while out for walks. So many piled up at his home, in fact, that one official exclaimed: “My God, it’s a quarry.”
No one pretends St Peter’s Island is Mont St Michel, but it is a heavenly place. If, like me, you love empty beaches and forested lanes, you’ll maybe see why Rousseau described his months here as the happiest time of his life. Peer back at the mainland from afar and Rousseau’s solitude is yours too, if only for an hour or so.
It’s not the only revelation you will have. The former priory at the island’s tip has been converted into a delightfully quiet inn and restaurant with its own vineyard. Hotel St Petersinsel offers visitors a window into the life of a medieval friar — a hunch tells me it will have plenty to do with the grain and the grape — and I have earmarked it for a stay next summer. Certainly, this is a part of Switzerland that deserves more visitors.
A cruise like this is also about free-flowing wine and the sun-ripened vineyards we sail past — bottles of prosecco, rosé and fruity chasselas are uncorked like clockwork. Such is the demand for homegrown Swiss wine that only 1 per cent of production is exported. It sharpens my appetite to explore little-known Ligerz on Lake Biel’s north shore that afternoon. I find myself alone with the butterflies and honeybees on the slopes of the Jura Mountains amid embroidered vines that climb steeply, with a view broadening out towards the hazy Alps. Apart from the haunting peal of the church, there is silence here.
On our last night, we anchor in Neuchâtel’s marina beneath its 1,000-year-old castle. It’s a place with its heart in the past and its head in the clouds, with pastel-coloured ramparts rising to a brooding sky, harbour nightclubs and the nearby Val-de-Travers, the gateway to Switzerland’s absinthe valley, where the wormwood spirit was created in the late 18th century.
Finally, we roll across Lake Neuchâtel’s gentle swell back towards Murten. “It’s like being on the ocean,” suggests Senn, as the horizon darkens and a wind picks up. The crossing normally takes 40 minutes, but with mini Matterhorns now peaking on the lake’s silvery surface, we’re told it will be more than double that. But this is an extraordinary stroke of good luck. Despite the scudding clouds, the decision has already been made to open another bottle of rosé, and it couldn’t be a more perfect day for it.
Mike MacEacheran was a guest of Switzerland Tourism (myswitzerland.com) and Attila Boutique Boatel, which has two nights’ all-inclusive from £1,176pp, including excursions, departing from Murten on August 18 (attila.swiss). Fly to Geneva
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