Tolkien tales come alive in Denmark's Faeroe Islands

GJOGV, Faeroe Islands (AP) -- It's just after 9 p.m. when the magic begins.
The late-setting sun breaks through purple rain clouds to drape the rugged island of Eysturoy in a golden shimmer. A perfect rainbow arches over the Slaettaratindur mountain. Offshore, a wild ocean launches ferocious swells against the Giant and the Witch, two spectacular rock pillars that protrude from the surf like craggy teeth.
All that's missing from the storybook setting is a band of orchs or goblins crawling out from behind a rock, or a pipe-smoking hobbit emerging from one of the turf-roofed houses.
The Lord of the Rings analogy is never far away in the Faeroe Islands, a barren and wind-swept archipelago whose volcanic peaks shoot out of the Atlantic Ocean halfway between Iceland and Norway. Local legend even claims the ring of power is hidden here.
"The one who holds it gets lots of powers but the one who holds it will also die because of it," says Hans Jakub Mikkelsen, a hobby historian, recounting an ancient Faeroese saga.
Although easily accessible by plane from Britain or Scandinavia, the Faeroe Islands are remote enough to be spared mass tourism for now. You run into more sheep than people once you venture outside the sedate capital, Torshavn.
That's a good thing. Anonymity has helped this semiautonomous Danish territory remain one of those rare places where you don't have to worry about traffic, pollution or crime. Doors are left unlocked and only seven of the roughly 48,000 residents are in jail.
Shy but hospitable, the islanders trace their heritage to a less friendly bunch -- the Vikings, who started settling here in the 8th century. Ancient traditions live on, like the medieval chain dance, the reciting of ballads and a controversial slaughter of pilot whales.
The bloody spectacle occurs about six times a year when a school of pilot whales comes close enough to be driven onshore. Knife-wielding men butcher the whales to the silent approval of scores of curious onlookers and the horror of animal rights activists.
The brutal tradition seems hard to reconcile with the gentle character of the Faeroese, but then again, this is a land of stark contrasts.
Nature has carved a dramatic landscape from the basalt rock spewed out by volcanic eruptions millions of years ago. Every winding turn of the well-kept roads offer majestic views over deep-green pastures, shimmering fjords or steep cliffs towering over the Atlantic swell.
But walk up to the edge, and the brute force of nature stares you right in the eye.
Take Slave's Edge on the island of Vagar. Here, a high-lying lake spills over a rock wall and releases its excess water into the ocean in a 30-meter waterfall.
The surf below roars menacingly as a horizontal wind lashes your face with rain. The rocks start to feel slippery as you watch the hostile waves crash into the vertical wall. Not surprisingly, the Faeroese are looking for ways to generate electricity here.
"If you take the power of 1 kilometer off these cliffs there is enough energy in those waves for one year of electricity consumption in the Faeroe Islands," says Olavur Gregersen, the head of SeWave Ltd., a small Faeroese wave energy company.
While hiking on mountain trails is a must, the best way to get around the Faeroe Islands is by car. Modern roads and tunnels connect the main islands of Vagar, Streymoy, Eysturoy and Bordoy. Ferries run between most of the other islands. Weather permitting -- and everything here depends on the weather -- you can even get around by helicopter.
From the air you get a full appreciation of how lonely these 18 islands are. Tiny villages with colorful wooden houses are clustered around the shores, but the inside of the islands is desolate. The mountainsides are simply too steep or too exposed to the elements to make comfortable living possible.
You also get an idea of why the Faeroese don't pay much attention to weather forecasts. One island will be baking in sunlight while the next is shrouded in fog.
The rule is to dress warm and waterproof, especially if you're out hiking. A clear blue sky can turn into hailstorm within minutes -- and don't think you'll see it coming.
Harsh as it may seem, the climate is actually very mild for this northern latitude thanks to the Gulf Stream, a warm ocean current that helps keep average temperatures between 37 degrees in the winter and 52 degrees in summer.
The mix of warm Gulf Stream waters and frigid Arctic waters also provides for fertile breeding ground for fish, whose impact on the Faeroe Islands cannot be overestimated.
The local government says fish products account for an estimated 97 percent of export volumes, and you believe it when you see the impressive fleet of trawlers crowding the port in Torshavn. Faeroese cod, saithe, haddock and farmed salmon are shipped around the world.
Oddly for a fishing nation, fresh seafood does not dominate the menus at Torshavn's eateries. The Faeroese like to eat meat when they go out, not fish which is considered a staple food.
You'll need some courage to sample Faeroese delicacies like sheep's head, whale blubber and Skerpikjoet -- raw mutton that has been left to dry for months. If you're not feeling adventurous, there's always roast lamb and potatoes.

UFO fest to mark 60th anniversary of 'Roswell Incident'

ROSWELL, New Mexico (AP) -- Is "The Truth" located in this remote city in New Mexico?
Driving alone down a stretch of desolate highway en route to Roswell, I begin to understand why conspiracy buffs have long argued that aliens crash-landed in the desert here a half-century ago.
Darkness engulfs desert fields. A misshapen yellow moon hangs in the sky. Husks of abandoned buildings litter the roadside. Has an alien invasion already taken place? I notice a blinking light in the sky -- but quickly discern it's an airplane.
Being out here by yourself is enough to make you think twice.
"I do know this. There are other things out there in the universe," said John Turner, 78, who was working the desk of the International UFO Museum and Research Center on Roswell's North Main Street when I visited.
I have secretly wanted to visit Roswell since I was a boy. What I got during my brief visit -- something I've contemplated doing for years -- was a lesson in how a small city in the middle of the American southwest became enshrined in American pop culture.
The 60th anniversary of the so-called "Roswell Incident" will be marked July 5-8 at the city's annual UFO festival. City officials say 50,000 people are expected for the event, which will include lectures, book-signings, tours, entertainment, and, according to the organizers, perhaps an alien abduction or two.
Long-term plans are underway as well for a UFO-themed amusement park, complete with an indoor roller coaster that would take passengers on a simulated alien abduction. The park, dubbed Alien Apex Resort, could open as early as 2010. The city has received a $245,000 legislative appropriation for initial planning, but the park would be privately built and managed.
The original Roswell Incident occurred in July 1947, outside the city. A rancher named W.W. "Mack" Brazel went to check on some sheep after a night of storms. He claimed he found some strange debris. Neighbors told Brazel he might have pieces of a flying saucer.
On July 8, 1947, a local military office issued a press release saying that pieces of a "crashed disk" were recovered. A story featured on the front page of the Roswell Daily Record claimed a flying saucer was captured (the paper is now reproduced and sold to tourists). Other news agencies picked up on the event -- albeit in a cursory fashion.
A revised release was soon sent out that said the material was a weather balloon. But stories about requests for tiny coffins and a nefarious plot began to emerge and Roswell went from small town to Alien Capitol.
What exactly happened more than a half-century ago in the desert remains murky. But it did inspire me to drive hundreds of miles across the desert to a town of roughly 45,000 people.
After a fitful sleep at the Best Western, I rubbed my scalp to search for any curious implants or scars, and headed out early to spend the morning downtown.
I was greeted at the UFO Museum (a former movie theater) by an alien dummy wearing a Santa Claus hat. The light posts on the streets of Roswell feature alien heads wearing Santa Claus hats. The creatures look utterly incapable of such malevolent acts as abduction and brain surgery.
The museum takes visitors through a timeline, beginning with newspaper clips and printed affidavits from many who claim to have intimate knowledge of the crash. For an extra donation, visitors can take an audio tour with a decidedly low-tech cassette Walkman.
The convoluted timeline of what happened after "The Roswell Incident" shows just why there are so many conflicting stories about the event.
The museum freely mixes documentary materials and kitsch. Among the displays are explanations of crop circles and an exhibit detailing how Roswell has been portrayed in pop culture.
It's curious how aliens are almost inevitably depicted by those who claim they've been visited by extraterrestrials as diminutive with oval heads, green skin and doe-shaped eyes.
The museum's most popular and photographed exhibition is purely fictional: the set of an alien autopsy from the 1994 television movie "Roswell." The vivid exhibit, in which doctors prepare to examine an emaciated alien corpse, is on a permanent loan to the museum.
The gift shop takes up a good chunk of the first floor and offers every conceivable extraterrestrial gift: alien plush dolls; alien shot glasses and magnets that say "I BELIEVE." A wide selection of books and documents on the Roswell incident is also for sale.
There's also a research library for those inclined to further study the alien phenomena.
"We'll tell people the story of what happened and tell them to make up their own mind," Turner said.
Downtown Roswell is a hub of alien-themed shops. There's the Not Of This World coffeehouse and the Cover Up Cafe. Even businesses like banks have cardboard cutouts of aliens in the windows.
One shop worth a visit is the Alien Zone, roughly a block away from the museum. For a small fee, visitors (the human kind) can see an exhibit called "Area 51" that features displays of roughly 3-foot-tall alien models in very human poses.
One display shows an alien in a sauna reading a newspaper; another features a forlorn-looking alien lounging in a jail cell in prison stripes. The main exhibit features an "alien autopsy" complete with an alien baby fetus in a glass jar in the background and another life-size model of an alien stumbling from a crashed space ship.
There's plenty else to do in Roswell. But even city officials now seem to know why many people trek across the desert for a visit. The city's Web site says: "Roswell has something to offer all of our special visitors, whether from this planet, or from a distant galaxy."

New 'Wonders' poll in final month of voting

GENEVA, Switzerland (AP) -- The Great Wall, the Colosseum and Machu Picchu are among the leading contenders to be the new seven wonders of the world as a massive poll enters its final month with votes already cast by more than 50 million people, organizers say.
As the July 6 voting deadline approaches, the rankings can still change, the organizers say. Also in the top 10 are Greece's Acropolis, Mexico's Chichen Itza pyramid, the Eiffel Tower, Easter Island, Brazil's Statue of Christ Redeemer, the Taj Mahal and Jordan's Petra.
The Great Pyramids of Giza, the only surviving structures from the original seven wonders of the ancient world, are assured of keeping their status in addition to the new seven after indignant Egyptian officials said it was a disgrace they had to compete for a spot.
The winners will be announced on July 7 in Lisbon, Portugal.
Latin Americans and Asians have been the most enthusiastic voters so far in the final round of 20 candidates for the world's top architectural marvels, but people from every country in the world have voted by Internet or phone, says the nonprofit organization conducting the balloting.
"It's the first ever global vote," said Tia B. Viering, spokeswoman for the "New 7 Wonders of the World" campaign.
Rome's Colosseum, China's Great Wall, Peru's Machu Picchu, India's Taj Mahal and Jordan's Petra have been among the leaders since January while the Acropolis and the Statue of Christ Redeemer made their way up from the middle of the field to the top level, according to latest tallies. The United States' Statue of Liberty and Australia's Sydney Opera House have been sitting in the bottom 10 since the start.
Also in the bottom group are Cambodia's Angkor, Spain's Alhambra, Turkey's Hagia Sophia, Japan's Kiyomizu Temple, Russia's Kremlin and St. Basil's Cathedral, Germany's Neuschwanstein Castle, Britain's Stonehenge and Mali's Timbuktu.
Americans and Europeans have the lowest participation so far, Viering said.
"At the moment, most of the voting is coming from Latin America and Asia," she told The Associated Press. But the organizers are confident the campaign will draw more attention in the U.S. and Europe in the final phase, Viering added.
"Excitement is starting to pick up in the United States" because the campaign is getting much attention worldwide and Americans are starting to realize how positive it is, she said.
"People realize that it's now or never."
The ancient city of Petra in southwestern Jordan -- popularized by "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" and famous for its water tunnels and stone structures carved in the rock -- jumped from the middle of the pack to the top seven in January thanks to campaigning by the Jordanian royal family and thousands of Jordanians voting by text message over their mobile phones, Viering said.
The campaign was begun in 1999 by Swiss adventurer Bernard Weber, with almost 200 nominations coming in from around the world. The list of candidates was narrowed down to 21 by the start of 2006. Since organizers started a tour to each site last September, the competition has been heating up.
There is no foolproof way to prevent people from voting more than once for their favorite wonder, but most of the votes are cast by Internet in a system that registers each participant's e-mail address to discourage people from voting twice, Viering said.
"We have a lot of kids (voting) and that trend is continuing...but we have votes really from every part of the population," she added.
The original list of wonders were concentrated in the Mediterranean and Middle East.
Vanished are the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Statue of Zeus at Olympia, the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, the Colossus of Rhodes and the Pharos lighthouse off Alexandria.
After the Egyptian protest, the organizers of the campaign set the pyramids above the competition.
"We absolutely had no problem with this," Viering told the AP. As of July 7, there will be eight world wonders including the Pyramids of Giza, she added.
Choosing world wonders has been a fascination over the centuries. The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, or UNESCO, keeps updating its list of World Heritage Sites, which now totals 830 places.
"It's so exciting," said Viering. "There are not many things that could bring the world together like global culture, ... this is really something that every single person in the world can be interested in."
"This is all about bringing people together, to appreciate each other, ... to celebrate diversity," said Viering.
Weber's Switzerland-based foundation aims to promote cultural diversity by supporting, preserving and restoring monuments. It relies on private donations and revenue from selling broadcasting rights.
Copyright 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

How not to climb the Matterhorn

ZERMATT, Switzerland (AP) -- One sheer drop-off to the right, another eight feet to the left. A switchback ridge so steep that three steps brings you to the next turn. Rope handholds to clutch when the mountain trail shrinks to less than a foot wide.
What am I, a goat? It was time to consider a panic attack.
A summer day hike, my husband said. A glorious saunter up a flower-filled meadow to one of the world's most famous Alpine huts. Look, families with little children are in the gondola line with us. Don't forget your sunglasses, it's so bright.
Which is how, three hours later, I was shivering in a surprise July snowstorm en route to Hoernlihuette, the Matterhorn base camp, wearing capris and sneakers with no tread.
At 14,690 feet, the Matterhorn is not even the highest mountain in Switzerland -- but it surely is the most photogenic, rising up on four elegant faces to a craggy peak along the Swiss-Italian border. Walt Disney even borrowed its silhouette for Disneyland, debuting the Matterhorn Bobsleds ride in 1959.
At the real mountain's base lies the car-free Swiss town of Zermatt. There is no offseason here; it's nearly always packed with tourists riding trains and gondolas up the mountains, hiking on the alpine trails, walking along picturesque streets lined with traditional chalets, and eating at restaurants decorated with the ubiquitous, huge Swiss cowbells. Utterly charming or tourism gone mad, depending on your point of view.
Hoernlihuette, at 10,696 feet, has been on the flank of the mountain in some version since 1880. It's where the guys and gals with ice picks, ropes and crampons eat, drink, sleep and use the outhouse before launching their pre-dawn summit attempts. When the weather is bad and no one sits on the patio, you can also inhale the wet socks and sweaty shirts of manly men who disdain deodorant.
About 4,000 people a year stay here during its brief summer season (July 1 to September 30), with 3,000 of them seeking glory on top of the Matterhorn. But I was of the lesser beings, daytrippers who gasp for breath up to the stone refuge, throw themselves exhausted upon its sturdy wooden benches and need a beer -- or maybe two -- before they can face the trials of going back down.
We set off for Hoernlihuette on a crisp sunny morning, after a brief walk around Zermatt and a stop to pick up water and munchies. Then we were off to the Schwarzsee cable car, which whisked us 3,000 feet up to a restaurant and pond above the tree line, where families with children picnicked.
For hikers, it was time to get started, at 8,474 feet.
After 45 minutes across a stony meadow, we reached Hirli, a lone building a few hundred feet up. My, how time flies on a mountain. You can see where you are going, yet it takes forever. To match my plodding pace, my husband photographed about 10,000 alpine flowers from every direction.
Then the wind turned brisk, the blue sky ashen gray. Temperatures fell about 20 degrees. We broke out the windbreakers, which held off the freezing rain for five to six minutes tops. I longed for gloves and a hat.
It took about 10 steps for the landscape to turn from alpine meadow to crumbling lunar rock face. As the sleet turned into stinging hail, the trail disappeared altogether.
The snowstorm struck when we were totally exposed on the switchback ridge. By then I was hyperventilating about the sheer cliffs on either side. I decided it was better to stare at the wet stones beneath my feet.
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?
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.

Casinos or culture? Singapore seeks tourists

SINGAPORE (Reuters) -- What makes a successful tourist destination? Casinos, theme parks, and Bollywood films -- or a mix of historic sites and local culture?
As Singapore reduces its dependence on electronics exports it wants to boost its tourism industry -- currently about 5 percent of gross domestic product -- and is betting on casinos and other imported entertainment to lure millions more visitors.
"Artificial tourist creations can work," said Tony Wheeler, co-founder of the Lonely Planet guides.
"Disneylands all over the world seem to pull in the crowds. And the casinos, given the propensity for the Chinese to gamble, will probably be a success."
Perhaps Singapore's biggest handicap is its lack of famous sights: it has no Angkor Wat or Taj Mahal. For many years, it prided itself on its innumerable shopping malls, and promoted its annual "Singapore Sale".
Abroad, it is often better known for its authoritarian ways -- it canes vandals, executes drug offenders, crushes political opposition, and bans the sale of chewing gum. Culturally, its development has been crippled by restrictions on freedom of expression and censorship of films and plays.
But with an eye on the newly affluent Chinese, Indians and other Asians who increasingly travel overseas, Singapore has begun work on several new attractions, including two big casinos, a Universal Studios theme park, and a ferris wheel, even though none of these is particularly Singaporean.
Bollywood blockbusters
In a bid to generate more "buzz" abroad, it has opened clubs such as Ministry of Sound and is even pitching itself as a film location, eager to emulate New Zealand's success with hits such as Lord of the Rings. By "starring" in Bollywood blockbusters such as Krrish, Singapore hopes to entice more Indian tourists.
Earlier this month, Singapore snagged the rights to host Formula One racing, which it hopes will raise its profile abroad. Citigroup expects the race to generate S$150-200 million a year.
"They want to send a message that Singapore has changed," said Christopher Wood, CLSA's regional strategist.
"They have to have more than shopping centers. Formula One is a brilliant idea. But nobody in Asia does culture well. Japan is the only place in Asia that has it. There's nothing cultural happening here now, zero."
The government wants to double the number of visitors to 17 million a year by 2015, while nearly trebling tourism receipts to S$30 billion. Its new attractions could well succeed in pulling the crowds, economists say, particularly given Macau's experience.
After the former Portuguese enclave of Macau opened up to the big U.S. casino firms, it proved so popular that its annual gambling revenues hit US$7 billion last year.
Macau had a record 22 million visitors last year, up 17 percent from 2005, and could have as many as 35-40 million a year by 2010, Goldman Sachs said in a research report this month.
Inspired by Macau, Singapore scrapped its decades-long ban on casinos and is now building two gambling resorts, due to open in the next three or four years, at a cost of nearly $7 billion.
One of those casinos will include a Universal Studios theme park. That too could attract millions of visitors from the region, given that the one in Japan had 8.7 million visitors in the year ending March 31, up 4.6 percent from a year ago.
Sleepy backwater
But some Singaporeans have their doubts.
"The Formula One is a lazy way to get cheap publicity," wrote Ng Weng Hoong in a letter to Business Times, as the government's money would be better spent promoting the use of solar energy.
"Singapore should not be hypocritical, pretending to care for energy savings and the environment -- and then coming up with a wasteful, has-been event like the F1."
Thousands of Singaporeans signed a petition objecting to the casinos, citing fears about the social impact and risk of crime.
"It's wrong to think that by putting up a casino that will attract tourists. It will attract a niche market - gamblers," said Hans Hoefer, who founded the Insight Guides. "I haven't seen a tourist in Las Vegas, I've only seen gamblers."
Paul Theroux, the novelist and travel writer, once wrote that it was Singapore's image as "a hot, sleepy backwater, full of colonial relics, crumbling houses, and old habits" that lured him to the city-state in the late 1960s.
"They're burying the old Singapore. It will be gone soon," he lamented in his book My Other Life. While Theroux portrayed the city-port's raffish side with its pimps and prostitutes and seedy nightclubs in his novel Saint Jack, much of that was torn down or scrubbed clean in Singapore's frantic rush to modernize.
Bugis Street, once the haunt of transsexuals, is now lined by unremarkable, could-be-anywhere shopping malls, while many of the old shop houses in Chinatown were demolished to make room for modern office blocks and apartment blocks.
While westerners and writers such as Theroux want history and culture, Chinese and Indians see Singapore as a beacon of modernity and efficient infrastructure, in stark contrast to many of Asia's chaotic cities, says tour guide Geraldene Lowe.
"All they want to see is a modern city," said Lowe, whose walking tours take in Singapore's historic quarters and craftsmen such as those who make wood carvings for the temples, or paper statues for traditional Chinese funerals.
"The government builds these ferris wheels and (gambling) resorts that you can get anywhere. Why not promote the culture we do have?" said Lowe.
Copyright 2007 Reuters. All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

How not to climb the Matterhorn

ZERMATT, Switzerland (AP) -- One sheer drop-off to the right, another eight feet to the left. A switchback ridge so steep that three steps brings you to the next turn. Rope handholds to clutch when the mountain trail shrinks to less than a foot wide.
What am I, a goat? It was time to consider a panic attack.
A summer day hike, my husband said. A glorious saunter up a flower-filled meadow to one of the world's most famous Alpine huts. Look, families with little children are in the gondola line with us. Don't forget your sunglasses, it's so bright.
Which is how, three hours later, I was shivering in a surprise July snowstorm en route to Hoernlihuette, the Matterhorn base camp, wearing capris and sneakers with no tread.
At 14,690 feet, the Matterhorn is not even the highest mountain in Switzerland -- but it surely is the most photogenic, rising up on four elegant faces to a craggy peak along the Swiss-Italian border. Walt Disney even borrowed its silhouette for Disneyland, debuting the Matterhorn Bobsleds ride in 1959.
At the real mountain's base lies the car-free Swiss town of Zermatt. There is no offseason here; it's nearly always packed with tourists riding trains and gondolas up the mountains, hiking on the alpine trails, walking along picturesque streets lined with traditional chalets, and eating at restaurants decorated with the ubiquitous, huge Swiss cowbells. Utterly charming or tourism gone mad, depending on your point of view.
Hoernlihuette, at 10,696 feet, has been on the flank of the mountain in some version since 1880. It's where the guys and gals with ice picks, ropes and crampons eat, drink, sleep and use the outhouse before launching their pre-dawn summit attempts. When the weather is bad and no one sits on the patio, you can also inhale the wet socks and sweaty shirts of manly men who disdain deodorant.
About 4,000 people a year stay here during its brief summer season (July 1 to September 30), with 3,000 of them seeking glory on top of the Matterhorn. But I was of the lesser beings, daytrippers who gasp for breath up to the stone refuge, throw themselves exhausted upon its sturdy wooden benches and need a beer -- or maybe two -- before they can face the trials of going back down.
We set off for Hoernlihuette on a crisp sunny morning, after a brief walk around Zermatt and a stop to pick up water and munchies. Then we were off to the Schwarzsee cable car, which whisked us 3,000 feet up to a restaurant and pond above the tree line, where families with children picnicked.
For hikers, it was time to get started, at 8,474 feet.
After 45 minutes across a stony meadow, we reached Hirli, a lone building a few hundred feet up. My, how time flies on a mountain. You can see where you are going, yet it takes forever. To match my plodding pace, my husband photographed about 10,000 alpine flowers from every direction.
Then the wind turned brisk, the blue sky ashen gray. Temperatures fell about 20 degrees. We broke out the windbreakers, which held off the freezing rain for five to six minutes tops. I longed for gloves and a hat.
It took about 10 steps for the landscape to turn from alpine meadow to crumbling lunar rock face. As the sleet turned into stinging hail, the trail disappeared altogether.
The snowstorm struck when we were totally exposed on the switchback ridge. By then I was hyperventilating about the sheer cliffs on either side. I decided it was better to stare at the wet stones beneath my feet.
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?
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.
Copyright 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.