We stood on the veranda, waiting for someone to open the front door. The whole house was built from a light- coloured timber, neatly finished at every joint. The front door consisted of panels carved from the same wood, depicting scenes from the mountains around us. It was mid-morning, with a little coolness in the September air. The door opened. He stood there, with a welcoming smile on his wise face. I caught my breath, as I found it unexpected to see him so suddenly. He shook our hand, welcoming us into his home. His bright blue eyes twinkled and shone. In a soft Swiss-accented voice, lightly rolling his R’s, he escorted us into his lounge. The home was furnished immaculately, every piece of furniture carefully selected and placed. He made sure we were comfortable when he went to call his wife.
I leant over and said in a quiet voice to my companion, who had driven us to Basl to see Dr Vogel. “He is how old?” “Ninety one”, my friend said.
I caught my daughter’s eye, both of us marvelling at the moment we had been waiting for, for years. We both had read every word written by this remarkable natural healer, hoping that one day we would meet him, and now, here we are. She was dabbing her eyes, overcome with the moment.
“Ninety one! He does not look a day older than 60 – 65!” I said.