Rushing rivers, ice-green lakes, forested chasms and giant, dusted, Alpine peaks of thin air and glaciers are the stuff of dreams. But not today. Today we catch a train to the Roof of Europe, to its highest rail station, to touch that dream.

Speaking in tongues
"Nein, nein," I say to the ticket attendant in Basel, "Wengen hoch und Grinndelwald unten bitte."
I read somewhere the Jungfraujoch trip could be done two ways and I wanted to combine them; one way up, a different way back down. In broken German I prevailed while Karen hid in a corner as the ticket queue lengthened.

A ten-hour round trip and a couple of hours at the summit; 90Sfr each. At 180Sfr, our 5-day, one-month Swiss Rail passes justify themselves. The price without a pass? Over 200Sfr!

Switzerland in a day
Pastoral scenery gives way to emerald meadows, crystal rivers and, past Thun, glassy lakes as the sun reflects the sky’s smile. At Interlaken, gateway to the mountains, we’ve been travelling two hours and break for a stroll. This resort town could be a Swiss postcard; fields of spring flowers, cows dining on rich pastures, expansive valleys and distant peaks.

Back on board we make the 20-minute trip to Lauterbrunnen. Nestled at the valley floor, this collection of weather-beaten chalets is flanked by sheer cliffs hosting dozens of waterfalls, some of them tumbling almost 1,000 feet like some fairytale land from Lord of the Rings.

Karen sketches non-stop on the hour-long climb through the Lauterbrunnen Valley, via Wengen, to Kleine Scheidegg. Nirvana for skiers and hikers alike, this breathtaking country typifies tourist-brochure Switzerland and a steady stream of all season visitors pass through the neighbouring villages.

Kleine Scheidegg may be small, but the views compensate. At around 7,000 feet, the station fronts a vertical wall of ice that is the Eiger, worshipped and respected worldwide by climbers, and we change to the Jungfraubahn cogwheel railway for the final ascent.

King of the world
Warnings of altitude headaches and shortness of breath are announced and parents exchange nervous glances. They cling to their children, expecting the unexpected.

The landscape looks sinister, even in today’s sunlight. Everything is white or grey, and a trio of peaks – the Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau – loom close. There’s an other-wordly feeling here and the train stops twice at viewing platforms deep in rock tunnels to emphasise the point.

Finally, at 11,400 feet, we stop for the last time, emerging through a bizarre cavern of ice sculptures to four-degree sunshine and 360-degree views over the Alps as far as Germany and Italy. I’m here with 200 other people but I feel like the king of the world. Jungfraujoch’s 13,600-foot summit smiles and I’m standing at the edge of Europe’s largest glacier – a 25-kilometre, 1,000-foot thick ski run.

That’s a big deal to this kid from Oz.