“Cable car” seemed like a generous term for the contraption that was suspended before me. A blue metal box with space for four (at a squeeze), dangled inside an open-front wooden garage from which a pulley system trailed down the hillside. I had pressed the button to alert the Töngi family at the bottom that my small hiking group was en route and held my breath as the thing shifted forward.
I had spent that morning hiking from the small town of Engelberg up to the cable car station in Eggendössli, 4,632 feet above sea level. The route up had been a sensory delight of tinkling cowbells, lush meadows peppered with wildflowers, lungfuls of fresh mountain air and the vertiginous peaks of the Uri Alps.
More than once I’d had to remind myself to keep my eyes on the oft-narrow trail, lest I roll an ankle gawping at the scenery. That’s Switzerland, though. You can stand in the midst of its landscapes and still be convinced it’s fake; a geographical steak too juicy, a lover too handsome.
Roughly 15 minutes and two cable cars later, our group had descended to 1,981 feet and trundled safely into the valley station of Mettlen. I took the edge off my adrenaline spike with a half-squished protein bar I fished out of my bag – my anxiety came more from a fear of unexpected drops than from exposure to heights – and geared up for round two of my Buiräbähnli Safari.
