Misadventures in Switzerland

Ironic, is it not, that we seek out these sweeping mountain vistas, yet when we are there, a glance in any direction sends our hearts racing in fear?

Yet the mind is a marvelous thing. Since the storm limited visibility to six feet, all of a sudden I could not see the plunging cliffs. Death might be a step or two away, but I was oblivious. That’s when the fear disappeared.

We somehow made it to Hoernlihuette. Fortified by gemuesesuppe (vegetable soup) and heisse schokolade (hot chocolate), we left the steamy camp about 3:15 p.m., just as the next day’s summiteers were checking in for the night. There’s nothing like a one-inch layer of sleet and a pea soup-thick fog to really make a mountain descent interesting - I thanked God again and again for my two adjustable hiking poles.

As we drew near to Schwarzsee, we heard a shout. A climber with a fully loaded expedition backpack was practically dancing down the mountain, leaping from rock to rock, his ice pick swinging. We flattened against the cliff to let him pass. A minute later, another. Then six, then a dozen.

“Maybe they are racing,” I mused. We soon found out why, as we watched the gondola operator lock up his office and ride the last one down, despite our own shouts from 100 yards away. We had misread the 17:15 p.m. closing time as 7:15 p.m. In fact, 17:15 p.m. is 5:15
p.m. We arrived at 5:21 p.m., six minutes too late. Believe me, he did not care.

Now we had 3,000 feet more to go, or 2 hours and 35 minutes to Zermatt,
according to a trail sign.

A word about those Swiss hiking times posted at every crossroads. Would you ask a Kenyan how long it takes to run to the nearest village? I think not. Swiss grandmothers could beat you up the mountain carrying their day’s groceries, so why would you believe their time estimates?

Daily travel blog Daily postings from ‘the last honest travel site’

You can’t. Try adding 25 minutes for every hour. Then add another 35 minutes because it is dark and you have to stick to the winding road instead of hitting the steep yet enticing trails through the woods that you know could save you miles. Memo to self: Buy a hiking head lamp.

After three more hours, my thigh muscles began to twitch uncontrollably. Nearly frozen, we arrived back in the dark, utterly exhausted, about 9 p.m. What did we learn?

• Zermatt and the Matterhorn are must-see destinations.
• Mountain expeditions in capris and bald sneakers are bound to end in
  disaster.
• The Swiss are nothing if not punctual _ do not miss the last tram.
• Over 500 people have died climbing the Matterhorn since 1865, and Swiss
  tourism authorities say deaths now average about 12 annually. (WHAT? WHAT? A
  dozen each year? Could someone have mentioned this sooner?) As of early May, six
  people had died this year.

Many of the dead mountaineers are buried in Zermatt’s downtown cemetery.

Don’t join that club.

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