Hiking the Alps

Author: By Patricia Harris and David Lyon, Special to the Globe

Date: SUNDAY, November 9, 1997

Page: N1

Section: Travel

Grindelwald sits in a closed valley in the central Alps some 3,400 feet above sea level. Its separation from the lowlands becomes evident when our two-car train from Interlaken stops to switch over to a cog railway that allows the engine to grip the track as we climb up steep mountain passes. We disembark to winter at its most dramatic. Eight inches of fresh snow glistens in the hard Alpine sunlight. The colossal walls of the Eiger, Monch, and Jungfrau rise to the south. Their tree-covered slopes are almost gunmetal blue in the afternoon shadow, their summits naked chunks of white rock and ice. On the north are the only slightly less daunting First, Schwarzhorn, and Faulhorn. Glaciers as green as window glass line the creases between peaks. It's hard to imagine that by morning we will be walking in those mountains.

Grindelwald has long been the summer hiking capital of the Bernese Alps, and more than a decade ago the village began to maintain groomed trails for winter hikers -- a network that now exceeds 50 kilometers. We decide to begin with the trail that started it all, the 7-kilometer trek between Bussalp and Bort that opened in 1985. It is an easy trail, we've been told, but taking no chances, we opt for the downhill direction.

As our postal bus snakes up a corkscrew road to Bussalp, we spy an odd contraption that looks like a hybrid of a snowmobile and a farm tractor plowing across the landscape. Never taking his eyes from the road, our driver explains that it's the grooming machine, which has just finished smoothing and packing the fresh snow to create a 6-foot swath through trees and across broad pastures.

The trail cuts like a belt across three mountain bases, offering a succession of almost unreal panoramic views. As we traverse the exposed ridges, the highest peaks in the Alps seem to line up as if posing for a family portrait. Every so often the trail dips and bends and we descend into pine forest where arched, snowladen branches create an Alpine bower. The snow is pocked with small tracks -- weasel, squirrel, various birds -- and the delicate ungulate marks of the chamois, the small antelope native to the Alps.

About a third of the winter visitors to Grindelwald come to hike, so we're never alone on the trails. Nor are we in a crowd. People nod a greeting as they pass us on the trail -- or as we pass them plunked down at one of the overlook benches enjoying a snack and the view. The trail zigs and zags through a series of switchbacks that make ascending and descending the slopes easier. It's a bit like walking on soft turf and a bit like shuffling on beach sand. We can't maintain the city pace of our daily walks at home, but neither do we have to trudge. By the time we reach the restaurant and gondola station at Bort, three hours have passed for what is supposed to be a 2 1/2-hour walk. We chalk the difference up to taking photographs and stopping to eat chocolate bars.

What they say about exercise in the fresh air is true -- each evening we polish off a hearty meal in one of Grindelwald's restaurants. Locals steer us to the Memory Restaurant-Bar in the Hotel Eiger for fondue, which comes with tiny boiled potatoes as well as the traditional bread cubes. We sample other Swiss culinary specialties at the Central Hotel Wolter -- sausages with onion sauce and rosti, and a local dish called lampi-rosti, which features those same shredded potatoes with fried eggs, cheese, and chunks of bacon.

Planning the next day's hike, it turns out, is easy. Michael Fogels, the Hotel Schweizerhof bartender, is the hiking equivalent of a ski bum. He knows every trail, groomed or not, on every mountain in the surrounding ranges. He helps us figure out the ski transport network of lifts, buses, and trains that can deliver us to each trailhead. (The system is as confusing to us as the Boston subway must be to a tourist from Iowa, although we get the hang of it soon enough.) We discover that most trailheads are at mountain stations where we can join skiers on the outdoor terraces to soak in the winter sun and quaff good Swiss beer at the end of the day.

For our last hike, we take the longest gondola ride in Europe (about 45 terrifying minutes) to Mannlichen, starting point for a three-hour hike to the Kleine Scheidegg rail terminal near the base of the Eiger's sheer north face. Having devised our own standard of trail difficulty, we figure this translates to two Choco Fitness bars between us. (The Swiss have efficiently combined trail mix and chocolate into a confection that passes as a necessity.)

If we're lucky, Michael has told us, we might see a herd of steinbocks. These large-horned, sure-footed mountain sheep are particularly well adapted to the narrower portions of the trail, which at points becomes a ledge cut into the side of a mountain chain at 7,000 feet. When we reach this portion of the route -- which otherwise crosses open Alpine snow meadows -- we recall that the ``Aletsch Man,'' a 12,000-year-old corpse, was retrieved from a ravine here a few years ago. We stick to the inside edge of the trail, all the time marveling at the Eiger, which looms larger with every step.

Kleine Scheidegg is a classic ski village -- athletic types in neon garb, a plethora of bars and cheap lodgings, vendors hawking sunscreen and souvenirs (and souvenir sunscreen, to which we succumb). It's also the railhead for the train to Jungfraujoch -- the highest rail station in Europe at 11,333 feet and a major tourist attraction. Those cushy train seats look inviting after our three-hour trek, so we climb aboard. The track burrows through the Eiger and the Monch, pausing for views at stations where thick windows look out through the rock. After an hour's travel, we reach the meteorological and astrophysical observatory at the end of the line, where we can walk through the underground caverns to the opposite side of the Jungfrau mountain to gaze down on the Aletsch glacier. There's no denying the majesty of the view, but as we look at fellow sightseers in street shoes and light jackets, the scene seems anticlimactic.

We hurry to take the next train back. Michael says there's trail from Kleine Scheidegg down to Wengen that we can finish before nightfall.

Daytime winter temperatures hover near freezing, but the alpine sun can get very warm. Hikers should be prepared with layered clothing, extra socks and gloves, a day pack, and, for the more challenging hikes, a collapsible walking stick. The Active Pass ($129-$147 for four-six days) provides transport on buses, gondolas, lifts, and local trains.