Switzerland : A view from the top

Slowly the funicular began its ascent from the Lauterbrunnen Valley, inching up a grade so precipitous that even a mountain goat would find the footing precarious. While sunlight flashed through evergreens, the cable car strained with its load of passengers, en route to a village unlike any other in Switzerland. Or was it, I wondered, just a romantic notion that haunted my memory, the sentimental reflection of another visit years earlier to a magical place.

It had been a peaceful world of verdant meadows and wildflowers spread beneath summer skies, and, later, snow-covered peaks as winter performed for vacationers in search of serenity.

At the halfway point on this short journey, another car passed, descending to the valley below. The funicular moved steadily toward its destination, swaying occasionally, its windows framing scenes that belonged on post cards. Or perhaps the canvas of a Van Gogh or a Monet.

The air grew thin and pure and refreshing, and cirrus clouds stretched across the heavens like chalk on a blue background. At Grutschalp, a mile-high station, passengers boarded a narrow-gauge train for the final journey to Murren.

Later, as Murren came into focus, it occurred to me that this could be a mistake, searching out memories, impressions that burned deep. Might it be best to keep such recollections locked securely in the mind and not tamper with the passing of time?

Some dreams are best left undisturbed.

At 5,450 feet, Murren rests on a sheltered plateau in the Bernese Oberland, facing the peaks of the Eiger, the Monch and the Jungfrau. Although barely a couple of hours by train from Bern, it was, as I recalled, a world divorced from the frantic pace of other destinations, a village without cars, crime or pollution, a village mantled by snow in winter, its lovely meadows alive with wildflowers in summer.

As the train drew to a halt, passengers scattered and old scenes took shape. The rail station was as I had remembered it, and just a stroll away the Hotel Eiger still faced the magnificent Alpine peak for which it is named, as well as the Monch and the Jungfrau. Couples were dining on its terrace, studying this village where time has taken a long holiday.

The narrow street twisting through Murren was unchanged; chalets lined each side, geraniums flowing from flower boxes while other blooms spilled from vintage wine barrels and hollowed-out logs.

I stopped to visit with the village butcher, Andreas Feuz, who confided that the population of Murren had shrunk in the years since my earlier visit, from 503 to 320 souls. “The children grow restless and they leave.”

Unless one is a shopkeeper or a farmer or becomes involved in the winter sports programs, employment in Murren is scarce, which is a blessing of sorts for a village that remains a fantasy in the minds of those who daydream of a world without stress.

The market operated by Herr Feuz has been in his family for nearly a century--and he has no intention of leaving Murren, where contentment was the gift of his birth.

A few doors away, Frieda von Almen, a 78-year-old widow, occupies Murren’s oldest house, a chalet-style dwelling that dates from 1660, its yard a showplace of spring and summer flowers and a scene during winter that features a snow-banked rail fence.

If one is enchanted by peaceful meadows, the melody of cowbells and waterfalls and picture-post-card peaks, the memory of Murren won’t be easily forgotten. Of a morning, the residents hike off to the baker’s for apple strudel and Linzer tortes and to exchange bits of gossip. The baker’s is, indeed, a cozy spot for one of those days when snowflakes drift outside.

I asked a farmer how long he’d lived in Murren and he shrugged and replied: “Why, always. Yes, all my life.”

Rosa Affentranger, who operates the Hotel Edelweiss, smiled and gave the same reply: “Always.”

Although the operator of a craft shop near the Hotel Blumental arrived in Murren 25 years ago, those born here still consider him a newcomer. Family roots run deep in this little Alpine village.

For the most part, families have been here for generations, so there’s a cohesiveness and a caring for neighbors that those who arrive from the cities find refreshing. No one can recall a serious crime, ever, and there’s not a policeman in the entire village.

In autumn, before the snows fell, I chose Murren because I was searching for a quiet and gentle place to unwind. I wasn’t disappointed.

Although Murren had a scattering of houses as far back as the 1600s, it wasn’t discovered as a holiday retreat until late in the 19th Century, when vacationers arrived by horseback from the village of Lauterbrunnen in the valley below, following a treacherous path over which women frequently were lifted by sedan chair.

First came the British. By 1910, Sir Henry Lunn had opened the Palace Hotel, and European nobility began an invasion. Later, Sir Henry’s son introduced world-championship skiing, and Murren became the cradle of Alpine racing.

In the beginning, the British hiked to the top of 10,000-foot Schilthorn Peak above the village to establish Europe’s longest downhill run. Skiers raced from the Schilthorn through Murren and beyond to the Lauterbrunnen Valley, a wild and treacherous run of nearly eight miles.

Known as the Inferno, it has become an annual wintertime spectacle, drawing competitors from around the world. Earlier, the fastest skier made the run in just over an hour. Now, with faster techniques, the race is won in under 25 minutes.

Although it has been discovered, Murren nevertheless campaigns doggedly for skiers and summer vacationers. The very attraction that draws those seeking solace--a village remote and without automobiles--turns off others, those who prefer such destinations as Grindelwald and Gstaad, which they can reach by road rather than by funicular.

Hope dawned for Murren in the ‘60s with the completion of Europe’s longest cable-car hookup. Beginning in the Lauterbrunnen Valley, the 30-minute ride passes through three stations, including the one at Murren, to reach the towering Schilthorn Peak.

Rotating at the very top of the Schilthorn is an immense saucer-shaped restaurant that was featured in the James Bond film, “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.” Completing a revolution each 50 minutes, it focuses on the Black Forest of Germany and Mont Blanc, and provides a stunning sweep of Swiss peaks in a panorama unequaled on any mountaintop in Europe.

Stretching from the valley to the Schilthorn, the cable hookup is recognized as an engineering feat unequaled in Europe. Workmen labored four years to install lines that reach the Schilthorn. After that they spent another three years creating the revolving restaurant, embedding a webbing of steel poles in the mountain to counter the pressure of 120 tons of cable that pulls vigorously against the peak, at times resisting gale-force winds reaching up to 100 m.p.h.

Although the tram travels through Murren--an option to riding the slower funicular--few get off. They choose instead to view the world from the Schilthorn Peak, thus missing Murren’s peaceful hiking trails and trout-filled streams and, with the passing of winter, meadows that come alive with wildflowers.

Although for the most part Murren remains the little cliff-hanging village I recall from my earlier visit, there’s a new sports center that features ice skating, curling, a couple of squash courts, tennis and swimming.

Nearly a dozen hotels provide accommodations, with the 44-room Eiger claiming four stars. More than a century old, its windows frame Alpine peaks, snowstorms and summer’s floral displays.

At the opposite end of the village the remodeled Hotel Alpenruh rises only steps from the Schilthornbahn cable station, its 26 rooms providing a dazzling panorama of the Eiger, the Monch and the Jungfrau. In addition, the Alpenruh operates what seasoned travelers describe as one of Murren’s finest restaurants.

At the 160-year-old Hotel Blumental, guests gather in a rustic bar and take their meals in a timbered dining room. Clinging precariously to a cliff that falls away to the Lauterbrunnen Valley, the Hotel Edelweiss offers a startling view, particularly from a terrace that seems suspended in space. At the Edelweiss, 30 rooms are up for bid, each with private bath and beds with cozy eiderdowns.

With 46 rooms, the Hotel Murren (once the glitzy Palace) lays claim to being the village’s largest lodge. Likewise, it’s one of the least inspiring, with a lobby that provides a sense of faded elegance.

Not far from the cable-car station, a sign pointed to Berghaus Sonnenberg, a pension set in a meadow beneath the towering Schilthorn. A 30-minute hike, said the sign. Perhaps, if one is a jogger. Otherwise, it’s a steady 45 minutes (without taking a break) entirely uphill but worth the climb, what with a setting as peaceful as a cloud scudding through the heavens.

With four double rooms and a couple of 20-bed dormitories, Berghaus Sonnenberg is a backpacker’s Shangri-La. Indeed, its 30-year-old chef, Brents Horn, arrived at the door with a pack on his back and not a franc (or a care) in the world.

Horn, who once slung hash at Lillie’s Southern Grill in Austin, Tex., was looking for work, and the Berghaus Sonnenberg was in desperate need of a chef. So instead of gumbo, burgers and fries, Horn is turning out aelplermagronen, which is to say macaroni with ham, mushrooms, cheese and cream, and a concoction consisting of dried meat, bacon, salami and cheese. This plus outrageously rich desserts that guarantee a substantial hike in the cholesterol count. In his beret and metal-rim glasses, Horn appears more an artist than a chef--or perhaps an eccentric musician off on a holiday.

It’s a happy hideaway, this pension on the hill. Guests gather on the terrace to sip espresso and Swiss wines and to feed the soul with the peaceful scenes. Few places on earth offer the tranquility and awesome silence of Berghaus Sonnenberg. The world outside its door is a framework of snowy peaks, and dawn is accompanied by the melody of cowbells and the song of birds while waterfalls spill from the heavens and a stream flows nearby.

Judy Leng of New York City arrived two years ago, and, after falling in love with a Swiss, signed on as a waitress at Berghaus Sonnenberg, where guests join fondue parties during winter and ski downhill with torches as darkness descends.

Half a mile from Berghaus Sonnenberg, Pensione Suppenhalp welcomes guests at an old farmhouse with skiing and sunbathing and a symphony of cowbells and distant waterfalls.

Of an evening, after the glasses are emptied, guests stumble off to bed, comforted by eiderdowns and blessed by the peacefulness of an Alpine retreat that still stirs the soul and haunts the mind . . . long after one takes leave of Murren.

Accommodations:

--Hotel Eiger, $62/$100 U.S. single; $115/$185 double with two meals.

--Hotel Alpenruh, $50/$80 per person with two meals.

--Hotel Blumental, $40/$72 single, $72/$120 double. Meals are extra.

--Hotel Edelweiss, $55/$60 per person with two meals.

--Berghaus Sonnenberg, $6/$7.50 per person with two meals.

--Pensione Suppenhalp, $4.50/$6.25 per person with breakfast.

Due to inflation and the fluctuation of the dollar, prices quoted cannot be guaranteed.