Chienbäse or Liestal Parade of Fire

The parade of fire is a spectacular parade that takes place on the evening before the first full day of Fastnacht in a small town not far from Basel, Switzerland. Thousands gather along the main road leading into the town square to watch hundreds of citizens, men and woman, carry large torches or bundles of burning timber into the main square. Every ten minutes or so, even more spectacular wagons or carts of burning timber, huge mobile bonfires, are dragged through the parade by eight people, often dressed in costumes and wearing unusual headgear to keep their hair from being scorched off by the constant fury of the embers unleashed by the fires. At various points in the crowd, the men and women schlepping the wagons stop and lead the crowd in cheers for their particular mobile bonfire. It doesn't take much to get the crowd roaring with intense enthusiasm for the remarkable event it is witnessing. While they are resting and the people are cheering, ever present firemen attend the bearers of the bonfire watering down their protective headgear, faces, and putting out chunks of timber that have fallen from the carefully arranged mountain of wood on the wagon. The heat, as you might imagine, is incredibly intense. The embers fall everywhere defying the best efforts of the crowd to shield themselves and each other from the fire's wrath. Then, on cue, they pick up the poles connected to the wagon and run through the medieval town gate. The running unleashes even more intense heat from the fire, and firemen constantly hose down the town gate lest the entire building go up in flames. Hair and clothing get singed despite ones best efforts. I was told to wear old clothing I wouldn't mind having to part with. I was glad I did. On the ten minute train ride back to Basel, a gentlemen, who had heard me speaking English with my friends, told me that I smelled like a fried sausage. Several hours later and after a shower, I still smell a bit like a fried sausage. The effort, however was well worth it. I had seen toarchlight parades in German speaking countries before to mark the summer solstice, but I had never seen anything even remotely close to the magnitude of this effort. The procession of torches, the Swiss call them "brooms," went on for as far as the eye coukd see. I asked a fireman how long the parade was making a guess of two kilometers, and he told me that was about right. All of this is done in an ancient rite to scare winter away by fire, sound and fury, and sometimes terrifying costumes and masks. Smelling like a fried sausage is a small price to pay for the phenomenal event I witnessed this evening in Liestal, Switzerland!