Fitness Files: Switzerland: Hike, eat and yodel

Euphoric. Home from hiking Switzerland.

Evelyne Huegi’s expansive goodwill turned Switzerland into a dream playground for mountaineering, dining and partaking of beer and wine fests.

Well, our gracious guide’s goodwill along with Brad and Laurie Smith’s enthusiastic planning. They bought maps, learned topography and assembled hikes that were challenging but fit ourskill levels.

Evelyne’s magic aura ordained that Switzerland behave perfectly for Californians — shirtsleeve weather except one stormy day during which we experienced a tiny taste of winter.

Potential problems averted: Brad’s camera phone, left in the restroom, was returned by the same attendant he’d tipped earlier. My new glasses flew off my head and bounced to within inches of the precipice of a rushing waterfall, but I grabbed ‘em and popped ‘em back on. Evelyne, Muffy and I all fell on hikes but rose unscathed.

My husband, nursing tibial tendinitis pre-trip, hiked zestfully all around Wengen. Laurie’s lost train pass turned up at our chalet, so she sprinted to the station in time to join us for the next train. Bon’s missing phone was returned. Muffy’s spill on an invisible curb proved insignificant.

How could it be any different? We were under Evie’s “Order of Swiss Enchantment.”

At home, I avoid long downhills, protecting creaky knees. An unproven hiker at high elevations, I don’t hike above 5,000 feet.

Yet, “The Happy Wanderer” song played in my head, so in Switzerland, I joined the hikers. We jumped on the longest cable car system in the world, the Schilthorn/Piz Gloria. We embarked from Birg, elevation 8,858 feet. Our first hike became our steepest, with a mile and a half descent at a 60-degree angle with short traverse lengths and steep hairpin turns.

Spellbinding views accompanied the hazards — jagged jutting Schilthorn above the verdant Lauterbrunnen Valley. Instead of taking in views, I memorized the top of my hiking boots, focusing on every step of what one blogger called a “wicked exposure to downward angle and steep rock face.” Loose sheets of sliding shale were my nemesis. I missed my walking staff.

When hikers finally took a break to admire a perfect glacial lake, I anchored my heels and took in a sharp breath, bewitched by our rugged surroundings above the tree line, a keen contrast to the green valley sweeps below.

But energetic hikers were descending again and I had to keep up. This is when I became famous for the posterior hiking pose, scooting down.

Hikers laughed but I barely lost pace as I took to my bottom, maintaining control when a standing position would have sent me sliding toward Gimmelwald. Laurie said the 4,000-foot descent felt like a marathon. Brad said 10 miles felt like 18. Jo compared the hike, with its element of danger, to downhill skiing. However, she pointed out the little treasures along the way — wildflowers, cowbells tinkling, age-old rustic wood barns.

Bon, who can run down the trails along with Brad, stayed back, supporting the group, noting the scree and advising us to “lean uphill.” Some did. I sat.

We grabbed cable for one steep sequence. Still, the altitude didn’t affect me, nor did my knees during or afterward. Quads, on the other hand, screamed.

Before I describe our hike reward, I’ll brag about Switzerland’s 37,000 miles of well-marked trails, just about as many miles as Switzerland’s vehicle roads. The Swiss cantons don’t agree on municipal regulations but unify on marking trails. We spotted the little red Swiss flags painted on stones beside the trail — beacons of reassurance we were on the right track.

Finally, we arrived in Gimmelwald, a tough little town of 130 people who made sure it stayed small. Travel authority Rick Steves says resident hay farmers eliminated a proposed development by “invoking their bogus avalanche-zone building code.” Happily, they allowed a beer garden with a New Zealander serving icy beer. Hiker’s paradise.

Evelyne’s capable and inspirational leadership took us from Bern to Wengen to Zurich. She found authentic yodeling and folk dancing, introduced us to dining on traditional (heavenly fresh) cheese dishes, yogurt, jams, bread, sausage and chocolate. A nominal vegetarian at home, I cleaned my plate of bratwurst and drank beer with the best of them.

On the final night, we said goodbye to Switzerland by following Evelyne up one of the fanciful narrow passageways between buildings off Zurich’s main thoroughfare. From the darkness, we entered a warm tavern with long tables, engraved with the initials of hundreds of patrons. A saxophone player riffed with an accordion.

We rocked to traditional Swiss and klezmer music, with an American song tossed in. Evie ordered two pitchers of a delicious brandy, egg white and sugar mixture. Close to a teetotaler at home, I tossed down three glasses.

Back home to vegetables, whole grains and ice water. I miss the Swiss.

Newport Beach resident CARRIE LUGER SLAYBACK is a retired teacher who ran the Los Angeles Marathon at age 70, winning first place in her age group. Her blog is [email protected].