Hiking with Appenzell’s herd

The signs were clear: The hike from the town of Appenzell to Clanx in northeastern Switzerland would take just 50 minutes. All I had to do was follow the yellow diamond-shaped symbols with the word Wanderweg (pronounced “vonderveck”), the term for an anyone-can-do-it walking path.

I strode out from a bridge near the center of town, followed the river, skirted an imposing home, progressed up a hill to a barn -- and found myself at a dead-end. Only 15 minutes had elapsed. How could I have gone so wrong?

I retraced my steps and noticed the yellow piece of cloth -- an unofficial-looking marker -- tied to a stretch of fence and leading in a different direction. This time the route led into a small patch of woods, past a waterfall, over a stile -- and into the middle of a pasture. A few brown cows looked me over. There was no sign of the Wanderweg. I headed back to town in search of advice.

During the next few days, I found myself in a cow pasture several times. Eventually I learned to detect the merest trace of a trail in the greenery underfoot, to scan the fences for something yellow and not to worry about the cows.

It was early summer last year, and the 1 1/2-hour train ride from Zurich had gradually revealed a rolling landscape of green fields dotted with mysterious bales in white plastic, like oversize marshmallows -- probably hay protected from rain. The center of Appenzell was a web of streets lined with brightly painted facades that hinted at their venerable age. Most were built in the 1500s and 1600s. Gilded antique signs hung over the sidewalk, and shop windows displayed Swiss knives, embroidered cloths or honey-filled pastries called biber.

The scene proved that the area gets its share of tourists, but Appenzell was still pretty low-key. It’s also conservative. The canton, or state, of Appenzell Inner-Rhoden is known for its Landsgemeinde, an outdoor town meeting on the last Sunday of every April, when community decisions are made by a show of swords (men) or hands (women, who weren’t allowed to vote until 1991).

But I had come for the network of not-too-daunting (well, supposedly) hiking paths, which complement steeper trails to notable peaks also served by cable cars. This is Switzerland, after all.

I stayed in the Hotel Adler, at one end of the Hauptgasse, the main street that leads to the central square. When I checked in, the ebullient hotelkeeper, Franz Leu, handed me the key to one of his rooms and said, “Here, have a look. See if you like it.”

The hallways were decorated with historical prints, antique baby carriages and old chests of drawers. The room was furnished with atmospheric pieces, including a rainbow-colored armoire painted with panels that depicted this hotel, albeit a few hundred years earlier. From the windows I could see the boxy steeple of a Catholic church, the colorful gables of the old house next door and lush hills beyond.

Leu said the hotel, the oldest part of which dated to 1563, grew out of a confectionery.

“We still do our own baking here,” he said. “We have wonderful bread. And ice cream, of course, also homemade.”

The scenic route

The next morning I awoke to the scent of fresh croissants, which lived up to their tantalizing aroma at the breakfast buffet. The rolls, along with sliced cheese and ham, provided delicious fuel for a day on the trails.

After my first misguided hiking foray, I retreated to the tourist office, where the patient woman behind the desk suggested a riverside walk.

“This Wanderweg is very pretty,” she said. “It’s one hour to Weissbad, another to Schwende and one more to Wasserauen. Then if you want, you could walk to the Seealpsee.” I wrote it all down and set off again.

It was indeed a pretty walk, on a forested path that bordered a rushing stream. Bright red benches were placed at convenient intervals and adorned with little plaques stamped with inspirational messages. “Ruhen und rasten, statt helzen und hasten,” one counseled: “Rest and repose, instead of hurrying and scurrying.”

Sharing the trail were couples, youngsters, oldsters and fitness enthusiasts using exercise stations along the way. No cattle, though I did see one woman wearing a waist pack that bore a bovine face and horns. The path emerged near busy farms where slope-roofed houses were joined to long barns that smelled faintly of manure. Cows loitered in the fields as the farmers turned the earth in preparation for planting.

Beyond Schwende, the view opened to a wall of mountains with a notch that suggested a hidden valley. Clouds edged the rocky pinnacles, and para-gliders hovered like hawks.

The next day, feeling bolder, I aimed for Mt. Santis, at 8,205 feet the tallest peak in the region. A sleek cable car based at a crossroads called Schwagalp eased me to the top, where platforms afforded hazy panoramas from the Bodensee (Lake Constance) in the north, on the German border, to the Engadine Alps in the opposite direction, toward Austria and Italy. Green slopes rose to snowcapped peaks and, behind those, showier, sharper crags. The ranks of mountains seemed to extend in every direction, contrasting with the diminutive pink and white blossoms at my feet.

The only hikes here were true mountaineers’ trails etched into the rock -- not for me. But back at the cable-car base, I found a path that threaded through forest and muddy pasture and ended at a Berghaus, a mountain guesthouse, that served a fair tuna salad.

Late that afternoon I rode another cable car from the village of Jakobsbad to Kronberg, a mountain rising more than 5,400 feet. There were fewer tourists this time, though I did notice several riders hefting backpacks almost my size. Camping gear? No, a para-glider, said one man, responding to my puzzled look.

“It’s just the sail, only 20 kilograms. You could go first,” he teased. “I’ll wait for you to bring the gear back up on the next cable car.”

I passed on the offer but watched in fascination as each man laid out a silken sail, untangled the threads that led to the harness and checked a windsock before jumping.

Appenzell was proving to be an outdoor person’s summer haven. Besides the para-gliders, there were scores of cyclists, kayakers and hikers, of course, including youth groups, from tiny kids in kerchiefs to rambunctious teenagers.

I aimed my next hike at Ebenalp, whose mile-high peak loomed over a lake I still hadn’t seen. I rode a cable car to the mountaintop; the view there took in grassy fields chockablock with buttercups and cows grazing just beneath the summit. Below I could see the lake Seealpsee, where waterside restaurants beckoned for a lunch stop.

That was my plan, at least. My innkeeper had assured me that the path down was not as steep as my brochure described.

“It’s not a problem in this good weather,” he had said.

I looked for the trail marker, which claimed that I would reach my destination in 45 minutes. I was graduating to the red-and-white signs that denoted a Bergwanderweg, or mountain hiking path, and called for shoes with “gripping soles.” Surely my hiking boots qualified.

I started through the Wildkirchli, a dim, damp cave, past a chapel hollowed out of the rock, to a Berghaus that clung to the mountain. From there, gravelly switchbacks led downward.

I looked for the red-and-white signs. I nodded to some cows, went in and out of a forest, spooked a deer, crossed a pasture. An hour and 45 minutes after starting out, as the trail turned into rough stairsteps and my hamstrings begged for mercy, I realized that I had made a wrong turn toward Wasserauen. No lakeside lunch after all. Just a sandwich near the end of a rail line.

Medieval streets

It was back to the Wanderwegs for me. One led from Wasserauen to Seealpsee, so off I went. I should have checked the topographic lines on my map first. The path climbed 750 feet without a break before reaching the quiet emerald lake. In an attempt to forget my aching feet, I savored two heaping scoops of ice cream.

The ubiquitous ice cream was a regular hiking reward. In Appenzell, desserts came first, late in the afternoon, followed by a meal at one of the garden restaurants. Like most of the diners, I eschewed the quaint interiors -- leaded glass windows, decoratively painted walls -- in favor of simple wooden tables and plastic chairs under awnings or sun umbrellas. Most menus listed similar fare: salads of wurst or Appenzeller cheese (or both), pork or veal schnitzels, huge potato pancakes called rosti and good local beer.

After dinner I would walk back to the hotel in the waning light, marveling at the effort that had gone into preserving the medieval streetscape. The difficulty of that endeavor hit home when workmen started renovating the historic house next to my hotel, working an iron beam through the windows to prop up the structure. After a few days I realized that the facade might be untouchable, but the construction crew could remove the entire back of the building. I was weighing my interest in the process against the increasing noise when Leu presented the key to a quieter room.

From my new accommodations, I could see the Appenzell Museum, housed in the town hall and an adjoining residence, both built in the mid-1500s. The collections included magnificent examples of the embroidery for which the region is known as well as remnants of the old prison, local costumes and furniture, and religious and secular art. Charming, innocent paintings of days gone by depicted cows being led to summer pastures by herders wearing white shirts, red vests and flower-bedecked black hats.

On my last morning in Appenzell, I was awakened at 5 a.m. by a cowbell symphony. Half asleep I groped my way to the window and looked out. A boy in a T-shirt and shorts led cows down the main street, around the planters that edged the traffic circle. I blinked; the group was gone.

Five minutes later, bells heralded a second herd, this time trailing a boy wearing a white shirt, red vest and black flowered hat. During the next half hour, a parade of cattle followed men and boys in the same traditional dress, singing and sometimes toting milk pails strapped on their backs. The last troupe included a couple of goat herders and their charges, spurred on by two tiny girls in red skirts and dainty suspenders, using long switches to urge on the unruly animals. Lucky them. They were heading for the paths of Appenzell.

Santa Barbara journalist Joan Tapper, formerly editor of Islands and National Geographic Traveler magazines, is working on a coffee table book on the Caribbean to be published next year.

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Where to find a little Swiss bliss

GETTING THERE:

From LAX to Zurich, Swiss airline flies nonstop; connecting flights (change of planes) are on Air Canada, American, British, Continental, Delta, Lufthansa and United. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $1,040.

Frequent train service runs from the Zurich airport to Appenzell, connecting through Gossau. The trip takes about 1 1/2 hours and costs about $46 round trip.

GETTING AROUND:

Trains and buses are convenient ways to reach trail heads. Fares can mount up, so it makes sense to buy an Appenzell card, which is good for local railways, buses, some cable cars (but not Mt. Santis) and some museums. A one-day card costs about $24, a three-day card costs about $40, and a five-day card costs about $64. They are sold at railway stations or the tourist office in Appenzell (address below).

TELEPHONES:

To call the numbers below from the U.S., dial 011 (international dialing code), 41 (code for Switzerland), 71 (area code) and the local number.

WHERE TO STAY:

Hotel Adler, Adlerplatz, Appenzell, Switzerland 9050; 787-1389, www.adlerhotel.ch. A 21-room, family-run hotel in a historic building with charming, traditionally furnished rooms. It’s on Appenzell’s main street and has good views of town and the surrounding countryside. The nightly rate includes breakfast -- pastries from the bakery on site. Doubles from $125.

Romantik Hotel Santis, Landsgemeindeplatz, Appenzell, Switzerland 9050; 788-1111, www.romantikhotels.com/Appenzell. The town’s most luxurious hotel has 37 well-appointed rooms, some overlooking the town square, as well as restaurants, a bar and a sauna. Doubles (with breakfast) from about $150.

Hotel Appenzell, Landsgemeindeplatz, Appenzell, Switzerland 9050; 788-1515, www.hotel-appenzell.ch. Also on the town square. Sixteen rooms decorated in pastels and hung with old prints. Breakfast served in a wood-paneled room with leaded-glass windows and a magnificent 1720 sideboard. Doubles (with breakfast) from about $150.

Hotel Freudenberg, Riedstrasse 57, Appenzell, Switzerland 9050; 787-1240, www.hotel-freudenberg.ch. This chalet-style hotel has traditionally furnished rooms with balconies that overlook the town. Best for travelers with cars; it’s a 15-minute uphill walk from the town center. Doubles (with breakfast on a panoramic terrace) from $108.

WHERE TO EAT:

Restaurant Traube, Marktgasse 7; 787-1407, www.hotel-traube.ch. The restaurant serves traditional veal, pork and chicken dishes on a terrace and in a secluded garden. Entrees $16-$28 (small portions $13-$16).

Cafe Conditorei Hotel Appenzell, Landsgemeindeplatz; 788-1515, www.hotel-appenzell.ch. The usual Swiss schnitzels and cutlets are offered, as is an interesting menu focusing on seasonal ingredients, such as asparagus and morels. Entrees $16-$28.

Restaurant Sonne, Marktgasse and Landsgemeindeplatz; 787-1122. Drinks, meals and desserts in a relaxed beer garden setting. Entrees $15-$20.

TO LEARN MORE:

Appenzellerland Tourismus AI, Appenzell, Switzerland 9050; 788-9641, www.appenzell.ch. (The website includes links to maps detailing hiking trails and public transportation routes.) The tourist office in Appenzell is at Hauptgasse 4.

Switzerland Tourism, (877) 794-8037 or (310) 640-8900, www.myswitzerland.com.

-- Joan Tapper