Unfurling Havok

Unspunnen Castle ruins reach for their night attire, as the sun sinks slowly towards the jagged horizon. Clearly, the past six centuries have taken their toll but their allure lingers still. Uninvited mozzies buzz and take their pound of flesh. It’s time to go. Just one final photo before we bid the ruins a reluctant farewell.

Carefully, I line up a shot of crumbling stone walls climbing into the fading sky. Perfect! Just as my thumb is poised to capture the image on my iPhone, the screen blinks out.

Darn!

Of all times for my phone to go flat! Typical! In disappointed resignation, I call to my daughter Elle. “Let’s go… it’s getting dark. Let's head back to the hotel while we can see the path.”

A groan is the sole reply.

Picking my way carefully across scattered ruins, I locate Elle.

“No point in staying any longer,” she says, “my phone just went flat.”

Two ‘paperweight’ phones! The tale of our trip. Mine doesn’t hold charge and her phone charges at the pace of a snail.

We make haste in the fast-falling gloom. There’ll be no phone torchlight to light our way.

*
Back at the cosy chalet, we edge past each other in our nightly dance to and from the bathroom… a small inconvenience while staying in accommodation centuries old. Phones nestle, plugged into the charger.

Much later, our bags are packed, ready for our hasty departure at the crack of dawn.

“What? This silly charger is useless! Our phones are still flat.” I whine. We drift off to sleep, reassured that both phones are now plugged into spare chargers. All’s good. Thankfully, I’m accustomed to waking up early. We should cope despite not being able to set our phone alarms.

*

Several crazy dreams later, breakfast summons us with scrumptious aromas wafting through our open casement window. Throwing on comfortable clothes, we grab our phones and follow our noses.

Soon, we join the breakfast queue. However, yesterday’s relaxed atmosphere, quiet greetings and muted conversations have vanished without a trace. Angst, agitation and irritation pervade the room. Coffee goes cold… ignored. Food is chewed in distraction without receiving due appreciation. On every side, lodgers glare and frown. Why? Surprisingly, mobile phones seem to be the culprits. Not a single one in the room is working. Weird!

How annoying! Inconvenient! Still, we’ve got a train to catch. And, not just any train! Today, The GoldenPass Express beckons us... a few blissful hours of luxury train travel from Interlaken, gliding through spectacular scenery to Montreux, overlooking Lake Geneva.

As we hastily hoof it to down to the local railway station, we congratulate ourselves on our excessive preparation. Thankfully, we planned today's trip down to the minute. We arrive well in advance of our fellow travellers. Were they left scrambling without trusty Apple Maps? What a relief that we carry hard copies of our travel itinerary, train tickets and hotel bookings as back up! Our tendency to catastrophise has paid off... this time.

*

Unlike during our previous Swiss Rail trips, today, phones lie uselessly blank and idle. Faces gaze glumly out massive windows, almost immune to the picturesque panorama scrolling swiftly by. No ear buds are in sight… there’ll be no music to soothe our troubled spirits.

Waiters arrive, sending us into a flap, scratching through wallets for plastic cards to facilitate snack purchases, in lieu of digital payment options.

Pockets of chatter slowly break free of the suffocating cloud of gloom. We’re powerless to sort the phone fiasco. Surely, the experts will soon prevail. This is the trip of a lifetime! Why waste it? Such a pity we can’t capture the experience with a trillion photos. My head is a carnival clown rotating left and right, in a futile attempt to simultaneously take in views on both sides of the carriage. The coursing adrenaline is exhausting but exhilarating.

*

Mid-afternoon, we bid farewell to our newly acquainted friends and cross the road to check into the Grand Hotel Suisse Majestic, overlooking a silvery Lake Geneva. At reception, we’re alarmed to hear the extent of the mobile phone outage.

Unbelievably, it’s worldwide! Impossible, surely?

Belatedly, the ramifications begin to sink in. This is no lark. We’re travelling lightly without an iPad or laptop, so we no longer have access to Facebook, Messenger or WhatsApp. We should contact family back home in Australia! But, how? Like most of the world, they no longer have ready access to a phone landline.

Soon — barely glancing around our spacious suite — I rummage through my luggage. Hmm. Where did I stash that address book I tossed into my bag as an afterthought? There it is. Leafing frantically through, my eyes land on my friend Gwen’s number. Hoping against hope, I set off to contact her. She’ll willingly take word to our family.

*

Clearly, others have reached the same conclusion. A lengthy line now snakes its way past the reception desk and around tables in the nearby lounge. Staff press into the office, busily working the phones.

While we inch along in the queue, speculation spreads like wildfire… electromagnetic pulse? But what about the internet… is that still working? Hackers? How bad can it be? Hands hang limply at sides. Not a functioning mobile phone in sight.

I glance at my Garmin watch. Almost 24 hours since our phones winked out. I barely restrain the urge to reach for my phone to check the minutiae of data stored in my Garmin app or to play a game or to check social media or... Habits sure die hard.

*

The surreal tableau sears into my mind. The opulent setting is incongruously crammed with distressed, disgruntled guests. Almost every conceivable need has been catered for. Every need except access to our indispensable, working cell phones!

What have we come to, I ponder... to allow so small a device such tyrannical rule over our lives? Instead of burrowing our heads deep into our mobile phones, will we now turn and converse with our neighbour?

*

Written for the challenge below: