Lake Lungern, hidden in the heart of Obwalden, lies like a jewel between rugged rock faces, lush green meadows, and enchanting clouds that disappear into the shimmering water. Those who climb the cantonal road toward Brünig and stop at the Chälrütirank will be greeted by a panorama that expands both heart and soul: the lake, framed by the Sarneraa Valley, reflects the proud peaks of Mount Pilatus and Mount Lopper, as if it wanted to preserve them within itself.
But Lake Lungern is more than just a postcard idyll. It's a lake with history – and stories. For centuries, humans have wrestled with nature here: In the 18th century, the "dry land" lowered the water level to gain fertile land, while the "wet land" resisted, fearing losses. It was a laborious undertaking that only culminated in 1836 with the construction of a 420-meter-long tunnel. But the joy was short-lived – in 1921, the valley was flooded again to generate electricity. And so, the newly reclaimed fields were once again submerged in water.
In winter, when the lake level drops significantly due to electricity production, Lake Lungern reveals its secrets – sometimes all too literally. This happened in March 1999, when two bodies encased in concrete in oil drums suddenly emerged from their icy slumber. The perpetrator, a man from western Switzerland, hadn't considered that the lake lifts its veil during the cold season.
But it's not just crime and engineering that are rooted in its depths. No, legends and wondrous stories also surround Lake Lungern and its inhabitants. One of them tells of a man from Lungern—may God rest his soul—who wanted to be far more than just a simple bread-eater.
He was an eccentric who once encountered a fiery little man near the Kaiserstuhl, whose flames he enjoyed lighting his pipe. He reported on field mirrors that allowed one to see 20 hours below and above the earth—as if he himself had peered through the rock layers in search of hidden treasures.
His scythe cut so fast that he could barely keep up with it, and even thick iron nails fell victim to it during the hanging. Its sharpness, rumor had it, came from a whetstone from Milan—hardened in seven devils' names. Only because he broke it in time did he escape the pact with Hell.
And then there was the calculator. A mathematical genius who lived somewhere in the Zug region. One day, he came up with the idea of calculating whether there was a calculator in the world that was as good as his. He found out: yes, there was. So he continued calculating – name, place of residence, and wrote to him: "I've found out through calculation that you can calculate as well as I can. Now you calculate where I am and write to me." And by the thousandth – six months later, the answer actually came.
Lake Lungern is full of such mysteries and reflections. Standing on the shore, it seems as if the water is listening. Perhaps to the whir of old turbines. Perhaps to old voices. Perhaps to a scythe hissing through grass like a sword through silk.
Today, the lake is a paradise for fishermen, sailors, and campers. A place where nature and technology, history and fantasy, legends and science dance together. And when the light shimmers over the waves in the evening, you almost think you're seeing a fiery little man somewhere on the other shore – calmly lighting his pipe.
