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“I didn’t want to come out!”: Spanish mountaineer emerges after 500 days underground

When Spanish mountaineer Beatriz Flamini descended into her cave - and home for the next 500 days - the world was an entirely different place. COVID-19 restrictions were still enforced, Queen Elizabeth II was still alive and on the throne, war hadn’t been declared in Ukraine, and Flamini herself was only 48. She entered the cave on November 20 2021, and while she was forced to surface for eight days while repairs were made to a router - one used for transmitting audio and video - she spent that brief period isolated in a tent. And then, a year and a half later, a 50-year-old Flamini emerged from 230 feet underground outside of Granada, Spain. And while most would be eager for some sunshine and some company after such a stint, Flamini had an entirely different take, informing everyone that she had actually been sound asleep when her team came to collect her. “I thought something had happened,” she said. “I said, ‘already? Surely not.’ I hadn’t finished my book.” And when it came to whether or not she’d struggled while down there, Flamini was quite to declare “never. In fact, I didn’t want to come out!” To keep herself occupied during the marathon stay, Flamini tried her hand at a whole host of popular pastimes, from knitting to exercising, painting, knitting, and reading. The effort paid off, the days flying by as the determined mountaineer successfully lost track of time. “On day 65, I stopped counting and lost perception of time,” she explained. “I didn’t talk to myself out loud, but I had internal conversations and got on very well with myself. “You have to remain conscious of your feelings. If you’re afraid, that’s something natural, but never let panic in, or you get paralysed.” Flamini was given a panic button in case of emergency, but she never felt the need to use it. And while her support team were on hand to give her clean clothing, provide essential food, and remove any waste that had accumulated, they were not to talk to her. “If it’s no communication it’s no communication, regardless of the circumstances,” Flamini said of that particular decision. “The people who know me knew and respected that.” As for what comes next, Flamini will now be studied by a team of experts - psychologists, researchers, and the like - to determine what impact the isolation of her extended time below might have had on her. Images: Getty, Sky News

Travel Trouble

New Gold Mountain review: a compelling murder mystery shines light on early Australian multiculturalism

The beautifully shot and evenly paced New Gold Mountain, the new series from SBS, is an 1850s-era murder mystery set in the Ballarat goldfields during the gold rush heyday. In 1851, gold was discovered in Ballarat – a little known pastoral outpost of the British empire. News of the strike quickly spread and the town rapidly developed. Initially, the first arrivals came from other parts of Victoria. Others followed from other Australian colonies. Soon after, international arrivals came from all regions of the globe and in 1852 many arrived from Southern China in search of gold. New Gold Mountain focuses on this Chinese-Australian goldfields experience, primarily from the point of view of Leung Wei Shing (Yoson An), the brooding headman of the Chinese miners and his relationships with his younger, errant brother Leung Wei Sun (Sam Wang) and his loyal assistant Gok (Chris Masters Mah). <iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/r-8U7AmNp-U?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe> The narrative is widened to include Belle Roberts (Alyssa Sutherland), the English widow turned newspaper proprietor; Hattie (Leonie Whyman), the resilient Indigenous woman trying to get by; and Patrick Thomas (Christopher James Baker), the troubled Irish miner whose wife’s disappearance drives the plot. In their own ways, each character is caught between different cultures, friendships and allegiances in the rapidly forming goldfields frontier society on the far side of the world. <h2>A Chinese Australian tale</h2> Chinese migration patterns to Australia were largely based on regional associations, particularly in the localities of Toi Shan, Sze Yup and Sam Yup in Guangdong, Southern China. These regional associations and “brotherhoods”, as they are referred to in the series, were labour recruiting mechanisms similar to the one Wei Shing runs at this Chinese camp. Here, Cheung Lei (Mabel Li) brings into play the connections, allegiances and complexities between Chinese gold seekers in the Australian colonies and their backers in China. <a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/425586/original/file-20211010-25-7hpfvp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/425586/original/file-20211010-25-7hpfvp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" alt="Production image: a white woman and an Asian man talk." /></a> On one hand, relations between key characters and groups (primarily between the Chinese and Europeans) are typified by racism and hostility. But there is also cooperation, as Wei Shing and Belle unite to solve the murder. Sometimes there is brutal friendship, as when Wei Shing and the Chinese protector, Standish (Dan Spielman), finally establish exactly where they stand with each other. Director Corrie Chen and creator Peter Cox pull no punches while maintaining a compelling murder mystery and this lively ensemble offers a nuanced reading of the Australian goldfields experience, telling a mature and ambiguous account of the frontier. The other stars of the series are the distinctive former mining landscapes and Sovereign Hill providing the visual backdrops for the 1850s goldfields society. You can imagine how startled recent arrivals from the bustling South China trading ports of Guangzhou, Hong Kong and Macau must have been on disembarkation. The flora and fauna – literally everything – was so different to home. <a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/425633/original/file-20211011-23-vtq501.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/425633/original/file-20211011-23-vtq501.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" alt="A Chinese man stands amid red lanterns" /></a> Chen explores this shock in a moment of brief magical realism with Wei Shing’s encounters with a kangaroo. It seems the bush sees all. The Chinese miners and their Indigenous and European counterparts were all coming to terms with a landscape broken by mining and colonised by a disparate society coming to terms with its own experiences and opportunities. New Gold Mountain evocatively captures this moment. <h2>The gold rush on screen</h2> Australian goldfields life has been shown on television before, notably <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0071046/?ref_=fn_tt_tt_7">Rush</a>, the Victorian gold rush era drama from the 1970s. But the obvious cultural point of reference is <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0348914/">Deadwood</a> (2004-06), David Milch’s multi-layered historical narrative based on the 1850s gold-rush town in the Black Hills Indian Cession, a region that subsequently became South Dakota. Much of Deadwood centres on the business dealings between the Chinese headman, Mr Wu, and the corrupt saloon owner and town powerbroker, Al Swearengen. The inherent racism of frontier life is apparent, as is the mutual respect the two men have for each other as they seek to benefit from nefarious business dealings. Similar complex, intertwined plots of shifting alliances and a mutual desire to win money run through New Gold Mountain. <a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/425627/original/file-20211011-21-1dkjedm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/425627/original/file-20211011-21-1dkjedm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" alt="Production image: a Chinese man looks for gold in his hands." /></a> On closer viewing, the series also shares a watermark with the New Zealand made <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0195822/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Illustrious Energy</a> (1988), directed by Leon Narbey, which also explored the goldfields experience from a Chinese perspective. Other Australian colonial stories have been told in John Hillcoat’s <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0421238/?ref_=fn_al_tt_2">The Proposition</a> (2005) and Jennifer Kent’s recent <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt4068576">The Nightingale</a> (2018). Yoson An’s smouldering portrayal of Wei Shing resembles Jay Swan’s character in <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt7298596/">Mystery Road</a> (2018–). Both are extremely resourceful, conflicted and move between different worlds while confronting the ghosts of their own respective pasts in remote Australia. <h2>Historical voices together</h2> New Gold Mountain emphasises the little told history of the Chinese on the diggings. The paradoxical nature of the colonial gold seeking era is best understood when all the historical voices are heard together. If one story dominates, much of the historical themes which help to explain Australian society in the present day are missed. The show also reminds us of the complex enduring relationship between China and Australia, which has often been driven by the mining industry. But, ultimately, it’s a cracking murder mystery that reminds viewers the first Australian multicultural moment happened in the mid-19th century – not the 20th. New Gold Mountain premieres on SBS Wednesday 13 October. <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/keir-reeves-872184">Keir Reeves</a>, Professor of History & Director Future Regions Research Centre, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/federation-university-australia-780">Federation University Australia</a> This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/new-gold-mountain-review-a-compelling-murder-mystery-shines-light-on-early-australian-multiculturalism-169527">original article</a>. Image: SBS

Heroic mum fights off mountain lion with her bare hands

A mother in California is being hailed a hero after fighting off a dangerous mountain lion that attacked her son. The woman used her bare hands to fend off the animal after it lunged at her five-year-old son and dragged him along the front lawn of his home. The California Department of Fish and Wildlife said the boy was playing near his house, west of Los Angeles, when the mountain lion attacked. After the mother heard the boy's screams, her protective instincts kicked in and she rushed to the rescue. "She ran out of the house and started punching and striking the mountain lion with her bare hands and got him off her son," Department spokesman Patrick Foy told the Associated Press. "The true hero of this story is his mom because she absolutely saved her son’s life." Once the boy was free from the jaws of the mountain lion, he was immediately taken to the hospital where law enforcement were notified of the attack. Mr Foy shared that the five-year-old boy had sustained traumatic injuries to his head and torso. Authorities also confirmed that following the attack, the mountain lion has been shot and killed by a wildlife officer. The officer was sent to the scene shortly after the attack, arriving to find the mountain lion crouching in the bushes with its “ears back and hissing” at him. “Due to its behaviour and proximity to the attack, the warden believed it was likely the attacking lion and to protect public safety shot and killed it on site,” the wildlife department said in a statement Saturday. Image credit: Shutterstock

Travel Trouble

Climbing England’s deadliest peak

Though most consider hiking a popular pastime, it forms the core part of one of the strangest jobs in all of Britain. Zac Poulton is a Fell Top Assessor in the Lake District National Park. Everyday of the past four winters, Poulton has hiked up Helvellyn, England’s third highest and most dangerous mountain, to report the weather and write a colourful account that can be used, understood, and acted on by the public so they can climb safely. Poulton isn’t the only one with the odd title. Colleagues Jon Bennett - who has submitted Helvellyn more than 600 times - and Wes Hunter - who started the job just before the coronavirus pandemic in October 2019 - also take on the climb. Each day from early December through til late April, at least one of the trio must reach the 950m summit. There has been a Fell Top Assessor making the hike since the first role was first introduced in 1987, and Poulton, Bennett, and Hunter have spent 126 consecutive days reaching the top in all manner of weather this year. With the potential for blasting winds and summit temperatures of -7C, Poulton said: “Some days are better than others.” Though Helvellyn is more commonly hiked during summer, it looks its best in the colder months. With three deep glacial coves, two incisor-shaped ridges, and alpine plants that don’t grow anywhere else in the country, it’s a sight to see. Helvellyn also poses many of the similar dangers its more famous counterparts in the Alps, Andes or Himalayas do too, according to Poulton. “People get lost. Break bones. Get caught in avalanches. You won’t slide as far as you would on Everest here, but you’ll still bump off rocks and the result will be the same,” he said. “I meet lots of people with good intentions, but they don’t often recognise the risks.” Once they’ve reached the peak, the assessor produces a report with as much detail as possible, which will be published daily on the official Lake District Weather Line website and to 19,000 social media followers. Alongside meteorological notes, the reports often provide potential climbers with tips on how to best approach the mountain. “What you can’t get from a weather station forecast is the experience of the mountaineer,” Poulton said. “A fully-automated system misses the human perspective. And our photos, tweets and descriptions create a 360-degree picture. We tell the wider story of life on the mountain.” Their presence on the mountain also means they can help out when things go wrong. “We’ve prevented hundreds of mountain rescues,” said Poulton. Bridging a knowledge gap And, with more people attempting the mountain following pandemic-induced lockdowns, the knowledge held by the Fell Top Assessors is more crucial than ever. “We know how important the Lake District is going to be in the coming months to help with people’s health and wellbeing,” said Richard Leafe, chief executive of the Lake District National Park Authority. “Our message is whether coming for the first or 50th time, is plan ahead; try to discover something that’s new to you; and enjoy your time here, but please leave no trace.” Image: Fell Top Assessors

International Travel

The mountain no one can climb

For a country where mountain tourism has thrived, there is one mountain in Nepal where climbing is forbidden. Machhapuchhre - meaning “fishtail” - stands at 6,993m in the Annapurna range in central Nepal that is home to three of the world’s 10 highest mountains. Though it doesn’t stand as tall as other mountains, it stands out as a lone peak and appears much taller than it actually is. Machhapuchhare also has a double summit, which is joined by a sharp ridge, and towers over the Phewa Lake. The closest curious tourists can get to the peak is the summit of Mardi Himal, a smaller mountain beneath Machhapuchhare. The reason behind it’s prohibited climbing status: Lieutenant Colonel James Owen Merion Roberts. Jimmy Roberts, as he was popularly known, was a British Army officer and the first military attaché to Nepal. He made significant contributions to Nepal’s economy and local livelihoods after helping open up the country’s remote mountains for commercial mountaineering and trekking. Roberts has since been remembered as the “father of trekking” in Nepal. His fascination with Machhapuchhare began after he read a dispatch from another army officer, and he would eventually become the first and only person to attempt to reach the summit. But, his expedition party, reduced to just two people by the end, abandoned the ascent just 45m below the summit due to bad weather. Following the failed climb, Roberts requested the Nepal government restrict the peak and ensure Machhapuchhare would never be climbed. They obliged. Roberts’ fascination with the mountain and his kinship with Gurungs, who hold Machhapuchhare sacred, and with the people of Chomrong, the last Gurung village before the mountain, may have been the motivation behind his odd request. Though the reason remains a mystery and Roberts’ association with the peak’s prohibited status has been largely forgotten, the prevailing view now is that the mountain is sacred and therefore forbidden to climb. “Machhapuchhare’s summit is not meant to be stepped upon; it is only to be adored by the eyes,” said Tirtha Shrestha, a poet and long-time resident of nearby Pokhara. “Any discourse, not just on Pokhara, but about the beauty of the entire Himalayas, would be incomplete without mentioning Machhapuchhare. Its beauty has greatly moved poets, authors and artists. In many folk songs, the mountain has been showered with praises. Machhapuchhare, for us, is the epitome of beauty,” he said. Image: MountainKick / Instagram

International Travel

The monks walking Japan’s mountains

In the ancient forests of Dewa Sanzan in Yamagata Prefecture, Japanese mountain worshippers, called Yamabushi, have been walking the mountainous paths for 1400 years. Though it is an enjoyable place to hike, the monks are walking in pursuit of spiritual rebirth. Yamagato lies in the northernmost region of Japan’s Honshu island, and is an isolated, mountainous region prone to heavy snowfall. Mount Haguro, Mount Gassan, and Mount Yudono of Dewa Sanzan - literally “the Three Mountains of Dewa Province” - have been deemed sacred since 593 A.D., when Prince Hachiko fled to Mount Haguro following the assassination of his father, Emperor Sushun. The prince was told the mountain would be where he would encounter Kannon, the Goddess of Mercy, so he built shrines on each peak to keep the mountain gods there and ensure the region would experience peace and prosperity. The mountains were established as a centre for Shugendo, a Japanese form of worship dating back to when the mountains were considered deities. Eventually Shugendo would incorporate elements of Shinto, Buddhism, and Taoism and form the religion of the Yamabushi. “Historically, the Yamabushi lived on the higher mountains of Japan. They would years on end in the mountains,” explained Timm Bunting, a Yamabushido Project Leader and Yamabushi Master Assistant. “For example, the Yamabushi who self-mummified to become Sokushinbutsu (Living Buddha) had to spend at least 1,000 days in the mountains,” he said. This self-mummification process required the Yamabushi to fast for an extended period, and was outlawed more than 100 years ago. Today, the 6000 Yamabushi still in Japan believe Shugendo’s training in the harsh environment of the mountains can bring enlightenment. To become a certified Yamabushi, a week-long Akinome Autumn Peak Ritual must be completed. Though its exact nature is secret, the ritual is known to include meditation under a waterfall, nightwalking, and visiting places where the gods live on the mountains and praying. This immersion in the mountains is thought to help the Yamabushi become one with the mountain’s spirit and allow them re-emerge enlightened. “In walking we are born again. We rejuvenate our life,” said Master Yoshino, a 13th-generation Yamabushi priest and head of the Haguro Yamabushi. A growing number of people around Japan and the world have rediscovered Dewa Sanzan’s healing energy, and thousands have taken part in Yamabushi training offered in both Japanese and English. During the one-day, two-day, or four-day course, participants can only say one word, “uketamou” (I accept), in response to instructions. Phones, watches, brushing teeth, shaving, reading, and writing are also prohibited to help participants partake in self-discovery and mindfulness. Maiko Ito, a Yamabushido Project Leader, said: “We want people to face themselves, to look at the feet they are standing on, and to feel a connection with nature, society, and the world.” Images: The Dewa Sanzan / Instagram

International Travel

‘Breathing’ mountains could help us understand earthquake risks

As the Earth’s surface shifts over time, oceans have opened and closed while new mountains climb towards the sky. But mountains can also sink back to Earth, usually due to stress caused by the same collisions of tectonic plates that triggers earthquakes. These events happen in cycles, and you could imagine it like the chest of a rocky giant breathing unevenly, explains Luca Dal Zilio, a geophysicist at the California Institute of Technology. The best example of this phenomenon? The 2,200 kilometres of peaks that make up the Himalaya. By understanding the complex forces driving this cycle, the local risk of earthquakes that threaten millions of people living nearby can be more well-understood. Since similar geological ‘breaths’ have been documented worldwide, the review Dal Zilio and colleagues recently <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s43017-021-00143-1">published in Nature Reviews</a> could be the key to understanding the processes behind many of Earth’s mountain ranges - and the risks they might pose. Compiling more than 200 studies of Himalayan geology, the paper looks to lay out the intricate mechanisms behind this ‘breathing’. The lengthy expanse and geologic complexity of the Himalaya make it a terrific natural laboratory, says study co-author Judith Hubbard, a structural geologist at Nanyang Technological University in Singapore. Inhaling and exhaling over time The Himalaya formed from a tectonic pileup about 50 million years ago, when the Indian continental plate crashed into the Eurasian plate. To this day, India continues moving northward by almost two inches every year. However, the land doesn’t slide under Eurasia, instead causing the Eurasian plate to bulge and bunch and drive the mountains slightly higher in a long inhale. Eventually, this pressure will hit a breaking point, where the land masses will shift in an earthquake in a geologic exhale, or cough. A deadly example of this exhalation came in 2015, when a 7.8-magniture earthquake caused a part of the Himalaya to sink by almost 600 centimetres. Different parts of a mountain range can exhale at different intensities. While some cough violently, others might experience a series of hiccoughs. They might not exhale the exact same way each time either. “Even the same patch can have different behaviours at different times,” says Rebecca Bendick, a geophysicist at the University of Montana. “And pretty much nobody has the foggiest clue why.” Putting the pieces together To understand how this process works, scientists have to piece together mountain-building processes that happen on varying scales of time - from slow moving tectonic plates to near-instantaneous shifts of earthquakes. Since these phenomena are measured differently, looking at the shape of the fracture between the two plates can help scientists bridge the gap. In the Himalaya, the fault spanning 2200 kilometres has several kinks and bends remaining from the original collision that formed the range. These features have continued to slowly evolve and can influence how an earthquake progresses today. In the recent review, Hubbard found a paper suggesting that structures surrounding the fault - such as bends beneath the surface - limited the magnitude of the 2015 quake. Dal Zilio says that other structures that might be present across the rest of the range could similarly limit how far a quake might spread. “The ultimate goal is to know what kinds of earthquakes we can expect and what kinds of damage they will produce,” Hubbard says. “If we’re trying to learn about that exhale or cough process but the earth isn’t exhaling or coughing, it’s really hard to learn about it.” To fill in the gaps, some researchers are looking at the scars left from past earthquakes. But there are many challenges that present major obstacles, especially when the terrain is too difficult to measure using current technology. Shifting forward As the cycle of inhalation and exhalation continues, the system will also change and make understanding it even more difficult. Some of the accumulated stress from every inhale will permanently deform the rock, even after the next exhale, as the release of all of the stress would mean that no mountain would still be standing, Hubbard notes. As India continues to inch closer under Eurasia, other landscape features will also change. Bendick says, “at some point, Nepal will cease to exist”, as the Indian plate’s movement over the next tens of thousands of years will cause the southern border to move ever northward and slowly squeeze Nepal. “At that very long time scale, nothing is fixed,” she says. “‘Set in stone’ is not the right phrase.”

International Travel

Boy climbs UK's tallest mountain after being told he’d never walking again

A seven-year-old boy with cerebral palsy has overcome huge adversity after climbing Britain’s tallest mountain for charity, even though his parents were told he’d never walk again. Caeden Thomson, from Corby, Northamptonshire, was born 12 weeks premature, and has undergone intense physiotherapy to walk again. Despite doctors' claims that he would never properly take his first steps, Caeden nor his family gave up. On his JustGiving page, his mother Lisa said he wanted to be able to "give something back", because "he was so lucky for all the things he has had in his life". At just seven, he hiked the 1,345 metres to the top of Ben Nevis in the Highlands on Saturday, and managed to raise more than £8,000 for his local NHS trust and disability equality charity, Scope. The group began to make their way up the massive mountain at 9am. Together, they would reach the summit at 5.30pm, before returning to the bottom five hours later. Caeden said: "My body hurts a lot but I'm OK. It was really, really hard. "I felt sick and exhausted at the top, and I felt exhausted but happy at the bottom!" His mum says her son is "an absolute legend". To say it was a “massive challenge” was an understatement for the group, who said it was “much, much harder than any of us expected". She said: "There were many hard times along the way. From three-quarters of the way up, the pathway is just massive boulders and very hard to climb, and even at the top we didn't think he would make it down. "There were danger areas where carrying was very difficult, so Caeden did have to walk down a lot of it too. "The temperature dropped hugely and many climbers said they were turning back. But we made it! "We are all super-proud of him, he deserves a medal. "Last night no-one could move or celebrate, so today we are resting up and will celebrate tonight. "We all love Caeden so much and can't believe his passion for getting to the top."

Caring

Grace on the mountain: Crown Princess Mary's adorable ski-holiday snaps

Crown Princess Mary of Denmark has given royal fans a glimpse of the family’s latest skiing holiday via the Danish Royal Family Instagram account. Princess Mary, 48, relaxed against the mountains of Switzerland with her beloved dog Grace, who has been with the family since 2017. Her son, Vincent, 9, was also shown in another photo relaxing in the snow next to Grace. Princess Mary and her four children Prince Christian, Princess Isabella, Prince Vincent and Princess Josephine began a 12-week spring term last month at the Lemania-Verbier International School in Switzerland. It’s clear that the family are enjoying their time in Switzerland, as the Danish Royal Family Instagram account captioned the snaps “A greeting from Switzerland where Grace enjoys life in the mountains and snow.” The snaps quickly racked up 28,000 likes from royal fans who were excited to see the family relaxing with their dog. Scroll through the gallery to see the snaps.

International Travel

In the company of mountain gods

Justine Tyerman practises her “one foot after the other” mantra on day two of the Bear Trek in the Swiss Alps. Kleine Scheidegg Pass looked formidable in the early morning light, shaded by the massive granite North Face of the Eiger. I was tempted to bury my head under my cosy down duvet, feign a pulled ligament or something and allow Guide Birgit and Team Super-Fit to hike on without me. I had made the mistake of studying the profile of Day Two of the Bear Trek the night before and discovered that before we even started the climb, the track plunged all the way to the valley floor, appropriately called Grund, adding hours and vertical metres to an already challenging ascent. The warning bells I had earlier ignored before I left New Zealand were clanging away again inside my head, but so too were my Kiwi tramping friend’s words that had kept me going the previous day: “One foot after the other and you’ll get there... eventually.” Besides, I was the only Kiwi in the group and I couldn’t let the Aussies get the better of me. I floundered my way out of duvets and pillows so deep, they must have placed the entire Swiss goose population in serious jeopardy, showered, pulled on my hiking gear and presented myself in the dining room with a brave smile on my face. Over a hearty breakfast at our lovely Hotel Kirchbühl high above the village of Grindelwald, Birgit studied the itinerary for Day Two. The detailed route map proposed by Eurotrek, the company that organised our hike, went from Grindelwald to Lauterbrunnen via Kleine Scheidegg Pass, covering 19.5km, ascending 1230m and descending 1465m, a hiking time of seven hours, 25 minutes. Birgit frowned... and then beamed. “I think we’ll take the train to Alpiglen,” she said. “No point in walking all the way down just to climb back up again. And we’re staying in Wengen for the night which is much closer than Lauterbrunnen.” Tall, lean Ms Super-Duper Fit was crestfallen but I was so relieved I hugged Birgit. What a wonderful, wise woman, I thought. How I love the Swiss Transport System. There’s always a train, bus, cablecar, gondola or funicular right where you need it. Catching the train to Alpiglen and staying at Wengen would lop off about three hours and hundreds of vertical metres. This would enable us to have a more relaxed, enjoyable experience with ample time to revel in the landscape, take photos and stop for a leisurely lunch on this most pristine of sunny autumn days. The first rays of sun kissed the tip of the snow-capped peaks as we set off, well-fuelled, after a substantial hikers’ breakfast. The train deposited us at Alpiglen where we began the climb to Kleine Scheidegg Pass, 2061m. The ascent was steep and steady but the unfolding of the landscape as the mighty Bernese triumvirate - the Eiger, Mönsch and Jungfrau - came into view, made every step rewarding. Bright sunshine, clear skies and mild temperatures added to the magic of the day. We crossed gurgling, gin-clear, ice-cold streams trickling down lush, green mountain pastures, and stopped to pat friendly cows with tinkling bells. They were so tame, they licked us with their long purple-black, sandpaper tongues. Encounters with other hikers and bikers of different nationalities were more frequent than on the previous day but we had the well-formed trail largely to ourselves. I was last to “summit” the pass but the heady exhilaration of having made it to the top obliterated the pain in my calf muscles and thumping of my heart. The Aussies were good sports. They didn’t seem to mind waiting for me. With breath-taking alpine panoramas, there was no down-time for them – cameras and iPhones were working overtime. Above Kleine Scheidegg, in the shadow of the 3970m Eiger, there’s a tiny museum that documents the triumphs and tragedies of past climbing expeditions on the treacherous Nordwand (North Face). The stories are chilling especially the horrific tale of the climber in 1936 who, despite valiant rescue attempts, froze to death on the end of his rope after his three companions perished. He was just metres from safety. The Sphinx Terrace and observatory at the “Top of Europe” was visible high above us - building such a structure on a narrow ridge 3571m above sea level is a marvel of engineering. So too the cogwheel Jungfrau Railway train from Kleine Scheidegg to Europe’s highest railway station (3454m). Opened in 1912, the top 7km of the 9.4km of railway climbs through a tunnel hewn in the rock of the Eiger and Mönch, an audacious project that took 16 years to complete. As we sat in the sun gazing at the mountain gods, I felt a deep sense of reverence to be in their company. It was a quintessentially Swiss day – a sprinkling of fresh snow dusted the peaks, the edelweiss was in flower, and the alpine chalets were competing for the brightest window boxes and neatest firewood pile. The Swiss stack their firewood under the eaves against the chalet walls or in purpose-built sheds. The pieces are always perfectly cut to exactly the same size and arranged with the utmost symmetry – like an artwork. “It’s a Swiss thing,” Birgit said, “a point of national pride. A messy wood pile would be shameful in Switzerland.” Descending from Kleine Scheidegg Pass, the rumble of an avalanche echoed around the mountains as a slab of ice broke free from a blue-white glacier and thundered down the valley, an awesome sight and sound from a safe distance. Late in the season, a few of the mountain restaurants were already closed but the Bergrestaurant Allmend was open and served an excellent lunch platter. With only a short downward hike to Wengen ahead of us, a little schnapps was in order, “a Swiss tradition,” Birgit said. An easy downhill hike from the Allmend took us straight to the Silberhorn, our hotel in the centre of the delightful, car-free resort of Wengen. The exquisite picture-postcard village, with its traditional wooden chalets and belle époque hotels, is perched on a sunny terrace 400 metres above the Lauterbrunnen Valley with stunning vistas of the Jungfrau and Schilthorn. Famous for its World Cup Lauberhorn ski piste, Wengen also has excellent year-round, family-friendly activities for everyone including skiing, toboggan runs and winter and summer hiking trails. Mountain trains and cableways provide access to spectacular vantage points throughout the Jungfrau region. After a relaxing soak in the Silberhorn’s outside Jacuzzi, I managed to do justice to a delectable five-course feast at the hotel’s excellent restaurant - melon and prosciutto, lentil soup, salads, beef ragout and apricot tart... among many other choices. High altitude can sometimes disrupt sleep patterns but the exertion of the day and the larger- than-usual-dinner... and a glass or two of wine... acted as a powerful sedative for me. I fell asleep looking at the map of the next day’s hike with the words “22km, 2000m ascent, 1400m descent, 9 hours” swirling around in my mind – but by now, I was confident I would manage whatever trimmed-down version Birgit had in store up for us. I knew I’d reach my destination, eventually, simply by placing “one foot after the other...” Read more about <a href="https://www.oversixty.com.au/travel/international-travel/the-slow-coach">Day One of the trek</a>. Factbox: * The Bear Trek is part of the Via Alpina, a classic among long-distance hikes in Switzerland. The Via Alpina is a challenging mountain hike through the picture-perfect landscapes of Switzerland’s northern alps. A series of 20 daily stages takes hikers over 14 alpine passes and through a great variety of alpine terrain, villages, flora and fauna - a hiking enthusiast’s dream. Mountain restaurants and hotels provide meals and accommodation along the way. Eurotrek organised our accommodation and luggage transfers so we just carried a light day pack. Justine Tyerman was a guest of <a href="http://www.myswitzerland.com/hiking">Switzerland Tourism</a>, travelled courtesy of <a href="https://www.swiss.com/au/en">Swiss Travel Pass</a> and hiked in the <a href="https://jungfrauregion.swiss/en/winter/">Jungfrau Region</a> with <a href="https://www.eurotrek.ch/en">Eurotrek.</a>

International Travel

Go tell it to the mountain: A Switzerland adventure

There aren’t many countries where you can sit in the spot where it all began. Relaxing in a small meadow on Lake Lucerne’s shores, however, I can make that claim for Switzerland. Here on this patch of grass on 1 August 1291, representatives of three small alpine valleys got together and signed a pact from which modern Switzerland emerged. August 1 is now a national holiday, and the meadow’s name, Field of Rütli, resonates through Swiss history. True, I don’t find much happening in Rütli these days, but it’s a fine place for a picnic and a good location to start an exploration of the Swiss heartland around Lake Lucerne, where history and scenery are equally dramatic. It’s also the spot to start my hunt for William Tell, the local lad who fought for freedom and became the world’s most famous Swiss. I arrive from Lucerne by steamer on an astonishingly scenic ride down its lake, embraced in mountains. My aim is to walk parts of the 36-kilometre Swiss Path, created for the 700th anniversary of Switzerland. With Swiss precision, the pathway is divided into segments representing its 26 cantons. As I walk, signs informs me when each canton joined the confederation, and gives a background to their history. It’s a lovely walk, the path sometimes talking to footbridges across streams and tunnels through cliffs. The landscape is surprisingly wild and rugged: quite the contrast to the bourgeois prettiness of downtown Lucerne. The following morning, a yellow postal bus deposits me back on the Swiss Path at Altdorf, a pleasant town of cobbled squares, painted houses and elaborate shop signs. A twist of bread marking a bakery directs me to a scrumptious almond croissant. Altdorf is the birthplace of William Tell, whose statue I find at the base of a medieval tower. The hero stands with his crossbow over his shoulder, his arm around his son. The monument marks the place where Tell was forced to shoot an apple off his son’s head by Gessler, an arrogant Hapsburg overlord. As I walk onwards, the valley narrows and the cliffs close in. Steep ups and downs challenge my lungs and knees. There’s only enough flat land to support a few villages under towering snow-capped peaks. It’s a rewarding hike to the Tell Chapel along the lake’s shore, which is painted with scenes from Tell’s life. It was from this spot that the hero supposedly leapt from a boat taking him to captivity. Tell fled into the forest and later shot Gessler dead with his crossbow, sparking Swiss independence. Nearby Schwyz sits high above Lake Lucerne in a wide valley of cherry orchards surrounded by snowcapped mountains. This now-quiet backwater canton gave its name and flag to Switzerland, and became famed for its mercenaries, who returned to build the impressive townhouses. The Town Hall is exuberant: cherubs hang over every window and frescoes depict historical battles. In contrast, the Federal Archives are kept in an ultra-modern, concrete building on the edge of town. I drop by to see the original Oath of Alliance signed at the Field of Rütli. Other proclamations mark the adherence of new cantons to Switzerland, each becoming increasingly ornate with ribbons and wax seals. Few countries in the world have such delightful birth certificates. Back by Lake Lucerne, I follow the road to Gersau. Improbably, this was once the world’s smallest republic, independent from 1390 to 1817. At Vitznau I enjoy modern evidence of Switzerland’s fighting spirit at Mühleflüh Artillery Fortress, decommissioned in 1998. I enjoy a scramble through underground bunkers to inspect barracks, kitchens and artillery batteries beneath fake rocks. From here, legs weary, I take to the rack railway up Mt Rigi, and the views become ever more expansive around each dizzying bend. Lake Lucerne shrinks to a puddle and a 200-kilometre range of jagged snow peaks emerges on the horizon. Though less glamorous than more famous viewpoints near Lucerne, such as the James Bond movie setting, Mt Pilatus, Rigi provides a landscape to make my soul sing. Even the cows seem to pause in their chewing and bell-clanking to contemplate the scenery that plunges below their flowery pastures. At the western end of the lake I’m back to base at Lucerne, whose old town straddles the Reuss River and looks onto the yacht-studded lake and panorama of alpine peaks. In 1332, Lucerne became the first big town to join the alliance of alpine cantons. It’s crammed with old guild houses, baroque churches and ornamental fountains. I study a cartoon-like account of its history on the painted panels that line its famous symbol – a covered wooden bridge. One shows William Tell with his crossbow at the ready. The timeline shows me something that I’ve already gathered: Switzerland has a birthplace, a proper birth certificate, and a mythical founding father, providing a story to delight me. Written by Brian Johnston. Republished with permission of <a href="https://www.mydiscoveries.com.au/stories/switzerland-adventure-go-tell-it-to-the-mountain/">MyDiscoveries.</a>

Cruising

Experiencing mountain magic in Switzerland’s Tschiertschen

Travel writer Justine Tyerman learns an important lesson in the little alpine village of Tschiertschen, Switzerland. Tall stories The Swiss don't set out to tell tall tales... but they do it, unintentionally, all the time. Especially the alpine folk. Here’s a perfect example: ‘How long does it take to reach this lake?’ I asked, pointing at the blue dot below the mountain peak on the wanderweg (hiking) map. ‘About two and three quarter hours,’ replied Heidi, the delightful receptionist at the Alpina Mountain Resort & Spa in the exquisite little alpine village of Tschiertschen, the correct pronunciation of which still eludes me. The best I could manage was ‘tear-chin’ which seemed to get a flicker of recognition and an amused smile from the locals. ‘Ok, that sounds manageable. We'll do that tomorrow,’ I said as we checked into the four-star resort high in the magnificent Bündner Alps of Switzerland. <img width="428" height="285" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Alpina-Tschiertschen-spa.jpg" alt="Alpina Tschiertschen" class="size-full wp-image-14158 no-display lazyloaded appear" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> The Alpina Mountain Resort & Spa. Image credit: Justine Tyerman ‘You can hike an extra 45 minutes from the lake up to a restaurant on the top of Hörnli mountain for lunch if you like,’ Heidi added helpfully. ‘Or take the gondola from Arosa.’ ‘Three and a half hours to the top?’ I replied. ‘And lunch at a nice restaurant? We'll hike up there, no trouble. We're Kiwis (New Zealanders). We don’t need to take a gondola.’ The prospect of a restaurant at the top of the mountain intrigued us. When hiking in New Zealand, we always joke about there being a cafe or lodge around the next corner . . . but there isn't. The summits of our highest mountains are devoid of any habitation. Except for at our ski resorts. With the next day all sorted, we were escorted to our salubrious suite where we did a quick change and embarked on Heidi’s ‘one-hour’ familiarisation hike. That was a real eye-opener and the first indication of the Swiss tendency to seriously under-estimate hiking times. The ‘easy’ amble turned out to be a strenuous two and a half hours of puffing uphill. But the landscape was so beautiful, we were not complaining. We walked through autumn forests, past pretty waterfalls and meadows of friendly cows playing ding dong songs on their bells as they ambled around the hillsides. The day was eye-wateringly clear, crisp and sunny - perfect conditions for hiking – and the views of the mountains and valley were glorious. <img width="447" height="299" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Tschiertschen-waterfall.jpg" alt="Waterfall in Tschiertschen" class="size-full wp-image-14183 no-display appear lazyloaded" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Little waterfall in Tschiertschen. Image credit: Justine Tyerman Not only did we love every second of the hike, it was also an important learning curve for us – we discovered the Swiss who live in the mountains are super-fit and acclimatised to the high altitude. They sprint up steep mountains as if they are mere hillocks. We realised that any estimated hiking time from a Swiss alpine-dweller needed to be viewed with the utmost scepticism. That’s what I mean when I say they tell tall tales . . . without intending to. Another thing we learned was that most Swiss are excellent amateur tour guides. They are so proud and knowledgeable about their country, they are eager to share their favourite hikes and must-sees with overseas visitors. This happens at railway stations, bus stops, restaurants . . . anywhere there is a map of mountains and hiking trails. Which is everywhere in this abundantly-blessed country crowded with peaks and crisscrossed with tracks. Having learned these invaluable lessons early on in our alpine holiday, henceforth we roughly doubled all hiking times and managed splendidly. <img width="446" height="297" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/cow-with-bell.jpg" alt="Cow" class="size-full wp-image-14194 no-display lazyloaded appear" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Cows playing ding dong songs on their bells. Image credit: Justine Tyerman Back at the Alpina, we headed for a soak in the hot pool and then had drinks on our balcony as the sun set. It was magic. I was so happy, I was tempted to yodel. Shared Asian dinner That evening, we were treated to a shared Asian dinner prepared by the Alpina’s highly-talented Chinese chef Tony Leung. We dined in the elegant La Belle Époque restaurant, the hotel’s historic dining room with its original parquet floor and chandeliers. As visitors from New Zealand, it was most enjoyable for us to be seated at a round table with a group of friendly Swiss folk. A 17-year-old boy, who was dining with his grandparents, did a fine job of translating for everyone. His grandparents live in Tschiertschen and they told us about the wonderful parties and balls that were held in that very dining room when they were young. They also gave us many tips about where to hike. <img width="462" height="308" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Justine-Chris-Tyerman-Alpina-Tschiertschen-restaurant.jpg" alt="Justine and Chris Tyerman" class="size-full wp-image-14172 no-display appear lazyloaded" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Justine and Chris enjoying their dinner. Image credit: Justine Tyerman Tony’s Asian dishes were delicious and our charming waiters Eran and Jamina looked after us exceedingly well. On the menu were chicken soup with glass noodles, Sze-chuan beef, Thai chicken curry, sweet and sour shrimps, Asian vegetables with tofu, wild rice and fried rice noodles with vegetables, and lychees and icecream for dessert. I never tire of those fresh Asian flavours. The wines were delectable too. We were thoroughly spoilt that night. We slept with starlight shining through the skylight above our bed, and awoke to the sound of tinkling cowbells and church bells. I wrapped myself in a warm blanket and opened the doors to our balcony to watch the sunrise. Nowhere is the freshness of the new day so sweet as in the mountains. The sun was slow to show itself on our side of the valley, sliding tantalisingly just below the ridge, casting hazy golden beams and long shadows across the little village. Suddenly, Tschiertschen was illuminated in dazzling light and the colours were blindingly bright. The church spire shone in the morning sun and the pastures were vividly green and as smooth as an iced cake. How do they mow the grass so beautifully on such steep slopes, I wondered. <img width="443" height="295" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Tschiertschen-sunlight.jpg" alt="Tschiertschen" class="size-full wp-image-14181 no-display lazyloaded appear" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Tschiertschen in the sunlight. Image credit: Justine Tyerman Breakfast at the Alpina was a gastronomic highlight with a delicious array of mueslis, fresh fruit, yoghurts, cheese, cold meats, salads, juices and the best bread and pastries I've ever tasted. Having doubled Heidi’s hiking estimate, we abandoned our plans to hike to the top of Hörnli and decided to catch the train to Arosa and take the gondola to the restaurant for lunch. Rather than backtracking by bus to Chur, we walked down to the train station at St Peter Molinis. Even that turned out to be much further than anticipated with a steep climb up to the station at the end but the hike was well worth the effort. En route, we came across an old sawmill operated by hydropower from the Ruchtobel River, spotted wild deer in the forest and walked through pastures with cows so tame they were happy to be patted. At the station, we met a young woman who explained that at St Peter Molinis, trains only stop if you push a button. A vital piece of information. She also told us all her favourite places to hike. The train trip was stunning - deep gorges, turquoise rivers, power stations and high viaducts - and the lakeside village of Arosa was like a jewel surrounded by a necklace of magnificent mountains. <img width="450" height="600" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Langwies-viaduct.jpg" alt="Viaduct" class="size-full wp-image-14174 no-display appear lazyloaded" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Langwies viaduct on the way to Arosa. Image credit: Justine Tyerman <img width="454" height="303" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Arosa-automn.jpg" alt="Arosa Obersee lake" class="size-full wp-image-14160 no-display appear lazyloaded" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Arosa and its Obersee lake. Image credit: Justine Tyerman We took the gondola to the top of Hörnli where there were alps as far as the eye could see. The 360 degree panorama was staggering, the horizon bristling with mountains. A telescope told us the names of all the peaks and ranges from Zermatt to St Moritz and far beyond. We basked in warm autumn sun while lunching and drinking chilled rosé at the splendid restaurant. We celebrated life and how privileged we were to be in such a beautiful part of the world. <img width="447" height="298" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Hoernli-top.jpg" alt="Hörnli" class="size-full wp-image-14171 no-display appear lazyloaded" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Top of the Hörnli. Image credit: Justine Tyerman As we walked back down the mountain track, there were patches of snow where the snowmakers had been hard at work, laying down a base for the coming ski season. The return trip to Chur by train and Post Auto bus to Tschiertschen was just as jaw-dropping the second time around. Arriving back at the Alpina, the staff were so friendly, it felt like we were coming home to family. After relaxing in the sauna and drinks in the bar, we dined in the scenic Panorama Restaurant overlooking the valley and mountains. With a strong penchant for spicy cuisine, we had another of Tony’s fabulous Asian dishes, Thai curry with cod and jasmin rice, served with a flourish by Eran who again looked after us splendidly. There was even a ‘Welcome Tyerman family’ heart-shaped stone on our table. High above us on the dark horizon, we could see the twinkling lights of the restaurant at the top of Hörnli where we had lunch. We’ll hike up there one day, we promised ourselves. <img width="429" height="286" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/hoernli-restaurant.jpg" alt="Hörnli" class="size-full wp-image-14170 no-display appear lazyloaded" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> The Hörnli restaurant. Image credit: Justine Tyerman The Alpina Hotel: history The Alpina Hotel, established in 1897, has a long and illustrious history. The first holiday-makers arrived in Tschiertschen in the summer of 1892, even before there was a road link to Chur. The road was opened three years later setting the scene for the idyllic mountain village with its sunny, sheltered location to become a high-altitude resort. Soon after, Christian Hold of Arosa built the 40-bed Alpina Hotel on an elevated terrace above the village. Originally, the building had only one row of balconies but the hotel was so popular that in 1913, Hold added 20 more beds and a second row of balconies. From 1897 right through until the late 1970s, the Alpina’s La Belle Époque dining room was famous for its elegant balls and parties. In the years that followed, the Alpina saw a series of tenants and by 1937, it had central heating and running water on all floors. During WW2, the hotel stood empty for a while, until it was used as a detention camp and refugee home in 1944-45. In December 1946, chef Adam Stocker bought the Alpina from Hold and in 1952, the installation of the first ski lift launched Tschiertschen as a winter holiday destination. Stocker and his wife Barbara ran the Alpina until 1973 when they passed the lease and then ownership on to their son Andreas and his wife Esther. They undertook further improvements to the hotel in 1984-85. In 2001 Marina Sciamanna took over the hotel and ran it as a friends-of-nature house for cost-conscious Dutch guests. In 2008, she handed over management to her son-in-law, Tobias Alderliesten who steadily increased the number of bookings every year. The hotel then came to the attention of Malaysian entrepreneur Ah Khing Teo who purchased it in April 2013. He commissioned architects and engineers to carefully restore the historic building in the style of the historic hotel. During the extensive renovation and modernisation process from 2014-15, spa facilities were added on the ground floor. Upon reopening in December 2015, the four-star Alpina Mountain Resort & Spa has reassumed its rightful place in the tourist landscape of the Grisons. It is once again THE place to stay on the south side of the Schanfigg Valley. The Alpina Mountain Resort & Spa today High on an elevated terrace above the village, the white, five-storey Alpina Mountain Resort & Spa with its gables and traditional balconies is an impressive landmark. The renovated hotel now offers 27 rooms and suites, two restaurants, stylish wine and cocktail bars, a cigar lounge, library and spa zone. <img width="429" height="286" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Alpina-Tschiertschen-hotel.jpg" alt="Alpina Tschiertschen" class="size-full wp-image-14155 no-display lazyloaded appear" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Alpina Mountain Resort & Spa. Image credit: Justine Tyerman Our bright, sunny balcony suite on the top floor of the hotel had a large, super-comfortable bed with fluffy down duvets and soft pillows, a bathroom with a separate toilet, shower enclosure and vanity well-stocked with the Alpina’s own fragrant toiletries, a skylight window, flat screen TV, and free wifi. I loved the warm hues of the pine walls and oak floors. But my favourite place was the balcony. I was spellbound by the stunning view of the Schanfigg Valley, the magnificent Bündner Alps and the exquisite little village of Tschiertschen with its narrow streets, sun-blackened chalets and barns and graceful stone church. Nearby was the bottom station of the ski-lift. I could just picture the scene in winter with the landscape blanketed in glistening white snow. <img width="430" height="286" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Tschiertschen-village.jpg" alt="Village of Tschiertschen" class="size-full wp-image-14182 no-display appear lazyloaded" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Village of Tschiertschen. Image credit: Justine Tyerman A welcome card and fresh fruit from managers Michael and Marlies Gehring was a thoughtful touch along with a choice of pillows – on the menu were cherry stone, millet, pinewood, feathers or synthetic fibre balls. I enjoyed reading Marlies’ tips of the day especially her advice on how to sleep better and the health benefits of yoghurt, linseed oil and drinking lots of water. As a historophile, it was heart-warming to see how well the herringbone parquet floor, chandeliers, wood panelling and plastered ceilings of the Alpina’s La Belle Époque dining room have been restored. Even the mirror above the piano is in the same position as it was in 1897, perfectly placed to reflect the hands of the pianist. The Panorama Restaurant has also been renovated in keeping with the Golden Era of the 1920s. The outside terrace has spectacular views of the valley and mountains. The cosy Alpina Bar has original wood panelled walls and floors while an intimate wine bar, the AlpinaVinothek, has been installed in the old vaulted cellars. There’s also a library and cigar lounge. The outstanding new Shan Spa (Shan is Chinese for ‘mountain nature’) offers pure relaxation, pampering and indulgence, the perfect place to relax, destress and unwind. Facilities include an outdoor Jacuzzi, a smorgasbord of saunas, a Kneipp basin and a range of relaxing massages, beauty treatments and Asian health applications. My husband Chris is a sauna fan so he sampled all four. The Finnish sauna has hot, dry air to enhance circulation and stimulate the blood supply to your muscles; the eucalyptus of the steam bath benefits the respiratory system, skin and hair; the bio-sauna offers essential herbal aromas to purify and warmth to revitalise the body; and the infra-red sauna is especially recommended for muscle spasms, joint pain, general fatigue and for those who do not tolerate intense heat and high humidity in a sauna. He emerged refreshed, rejuvenated and re-energised. A highlight for me was the unique sensory shower experience of the Via Mala thunderstorm path with hot and cold mist, a storm with huge rain drops, bird song and stars, and a deluge of hot water with cool mist. I did it several times. It was quite addictive. I also enjoyed the Kneipp basin where I sat on a warm stone bench and trod water in a stone tub which stimulated my circulation and arterial blood supply. Apparently it’s a great way to prevent varicose veins so I’ll need to keep coming back. But at the end of a day in the mountains, I loved nothing better than lying in the warmth of the Jacuzzi, relaxing on the bubble lounger, and breathing in the fresh, sweet alpine air. Getting to Tschiertschen Tschiertschen (1340 metres above sea level, population 240) may look and feel delightfully remote and tranquil but it’s only 25 minutes by regular Post Auto bus service from Chur and one hour and 45 minutes from Zurich Airport. We caught an early train from Zurich and sped through countryside that looked like a never-ending series of postcards - flickering past my eyes like the frames of an old-fashioned movie, only in glorious technicolour. When we disembarked at Chur, there was our Post Auto bus, clearly marked Tschiertschen, pulling into the station at precisely the time it was scheduled. <img width="433" height="289" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Tschiertschen-welcome.jpg" alt="Welcome" class="size-full wp-image-14184 no-display lazyloaded appear" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Tschiertschen welcomes its visitors. Image credit: Justine Tyerman We headed 10km (25 minutes) up a steep, windy mountain road to a village straight from a Swiss Tourism brochure. I had to blink several times to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. Tschiertschen is a quintessential tiny Swiss alpine village built on a mountainside, untouched by commercial tourism. The historic Alpina Mountain Resort and Spa, one of only two hotels in Tschiertschen, sat proudly above the village bathed in sunshine. I fell in love with the place in an instant. The friendly driver deposited us at the bus stop from where we planned to walk to the Alpina. It looked like a short distance on the map but it was straight uphill so we got all our exercise in one strenuous hit, lugging our cases up the steep main street. Had we phoned, the hotel's courtesy car would have collected us, ‘No problem,’ said Heidi as we arrived out of breath at reception where cool drinks and alpine nut cake awaited us. So much to offer Summer In the summer, Tschiertschen is a hiking paradise, the ideal starting point for many beautiful day and half-day excursions. The 70km network of trails takes walkers through unspoilt natural landscapes devoid of man-made interference like tar-sealed roads, cable cars and snow cannons which is increasingly rare these days. <img width="468" height="312" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Tschiertschen-Alpina-hotel.jpg" alt="Tschiertschen" class="size-full wp-image-14179 no-display lazyloaded appear" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Tschiertschen and its Alpina Mountain Resort. Image credit: Justine Tyerman Tschiertschen is the first stop on the famous six-day Schanfigger Höhenweg, described as ‘the most beautiful mountain hiking path in Graubünden’. The village is also the perfect base for mountain bikers. And for those who need an extra boost uphill, the Alpina has the latest, greatest, off-road, cross-country e-bikes for their guests’ use, the ‘flitzerli MONSTER eBike’. Graubünden’s most beautiful tennis court is located in Tschiertschen, directly behind the Alpina Hotel. Guests play for free with rackets and balls provided. Winter Winter in Tschiertschen is a dream come true for skiers and snowboarders seeking to escape the crowded slopes of Switzerland’s famous ski resorts. There’s 32km of excellently-prepared pistes of all degrees of difficulty, 100 percent natural snow, no crowds, no queuing for the modern four-seater chairlifts and ski lifts and no loud music blasting across the slopes. Just beautifully diverse downhill runs through forests and gullies with terrain to suit everyone from beginners and families to experts like local resident and three-time world champion ski acrobat Mia Engi. There’s also plenty of challenging terrain for free-riders, powder hounds and off-piste skiers. <img width="445" height="298" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Tschiertschen-winter.jpg" alt="Winter in Tschiertschen" class="size-full wp-image-14196 no-display lazyloaded appear" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Winter in Tschiertschen must be wonderful. Image credit: Alpina Tschiertschen The ski school meeting point is right behind the Alpina Hotel and the valley station of the lift can be reached in just one minute. There’s also a free ski bus from the village car park to the bottom of the chairlift. And if you are looking for a new thrill on the snow, the Alpina will lend you a gögel, a mono-ski/toboggan combo. Organised winter events include guest ski races, night skiing with torches, guided ski tours and ski safaris, gourmet evenings and plays, exhibitions, readings and chamber music concerts. Wine and food The Bündner Herrschaft area, often called the ‘Burgundy of Switzerland’, ranks among the best regions for red wine north of the Alps. The vineyards where 45 grape varieties flourish in warm conditions, are just 20 minutes by car from Tschiertschen. The picturesque wine-growing villages of Fläsch, Maienfeld, Jenins and Malans are worth visiting at any time of the year. Winemakers mature their finest wines in oak barrels and secure top international awards with them. Tschiertschen is famous for its high-quality ‘AlpenHirt’, dried beef made from cattle grazing high alpine pastures. The meat is marinated in a mixture of red wine, natural salt and herbs and left to dry in the mountain air for eight to 16 weeks rather than being preserved in pickling salt with additives in a smoke chamber. Guests can also sample richly flavoursome Alp Farur cheese. Tschiertschen holds a Farmers’ Market every Saturday afternoon selling alpine cheese, alpine butter, eggs, meat, Graubünden nut gateaux, home-made Graubünden pear bread, jams, liqueurs and aperitif platters directly from the local farmers’ wives. Chur Just 20 minutes away from Tschiertschen on the Post Auto bus, lies the city of Chur (population 34,880), the capital of the eastern Switzerland canton of Graubünden/Grisons. Chur boasts a car-free medieval Old Town, the wonderfully restored 13th-century, three-naved Cathedral of the Assumption in the courtyard of Bishop’s Palace, the Graubünden Museum of Fine Arts, the Rhaetian Museum, Graubünden Natural History Museum, art galleries and theatres with classical and jazz concerts . . . not to mention excellent shopping. <img width="466" height="310" src="https://travelmemo-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/historic-auto-bus.jpg" alt="Historic auto bus" class="size-full wp-image-14168 no-display appear lazyloaded" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Historic Post Auto Bus. Image credit: Justine Tyerman Unique, unspoiled, authentic Tschiertschen has a wealth of unique natural attributes. A world away from the glitz and glamour of Switzerland’s world-famous resorts, the village offers a tranquil, close-to-nature, unspoiled, authentic, alpine experience, a welcome respite from the stressful, high-pressure lives that many people lead in the cities these days. But comfort is not compromised. The Alpina Mountain Resort & Spa pampers you with romance, history, gourmet cuisine, fine wine, spa facilities, salubrious suites and impeccable service. Unique, unspoiled, authentic . . . go there before the secret is discovered. * The Alpina Mountain Resort & Spa is a member of the Romantik Hotels & Restaurants International, a group of more than 200 establishments in 10 European countries. ‘The distinguishing characteristics of tradition, history, quality and warm hospitality combined with excellent cuisine, authentic local roots and tangible history unite the owner-run hotels, creating an exclusive collection to delight even the most discerning guests.’ * The Alpina Mountain Resort & Spa is included in the Guide Michelin’s list of the best hotels in Switzerland. * Justine and Chris Tyerman stayed at the Alpina Mountain Resort & Spa, Tschiertschen, Switzerland:<a href="http://www.the-alpina.com/" target="_blank">www.the-alpina.com</a> * Switzerland Tourism: <a href="http://www.myswitzerland.com/" target="_blank">www.MySwitzerland.com</a> * Swiss Travel Pass: <a href="http://www.myswitzerland.com/rail" target="_blank">www.MySwitzerland.com/rail</a> * Rail Europe: <a href="http://www.raileurope.com.au/" target="_blank">www.raileurope.com.au</a> / <a href="http://www.raileurope.co.nz/" target="_blank">www.raileurope.co.nz</a> * Swiss International Air Lines: <a href="http://www.swiss.com/ch/en" target="_blank">www.swiss.com/ch/en</a> * Republished with the permission of <a href="http://travelmemo.com/" target="_blank">Travelmemo.com</a>

International Travel

The train ride to Blue Mountains is deterring tourists

Standing by the doors of the train carriage as it rattles away from Sydney's Strathfield Station, Kylie Fearnley places a firm hand on the stroller containing her three-year-old son Taylor. It is Sunday morning – hardly peak time – yet it is already standing room only as the train heads west of Sydney towards Parramatta and the Blue Mountains. Fearnley regularly travels on the train on Sunday and said it was "next to impossible" to find a seat. "We're jammed in like sardines or I have to stand up," she said. "I mean, we're heading into the western suburbs of Sydney, not into the Bronx." Tourism operators in the Blue Mountains have also expressed concern about overcrowded trains. "If something is not done about it, sooner rather than later, it will potentially have a negative effect on tourism because the word will spread," said Jason Cronshaw, the managing director of Fantastic Aussie Tours, which operates the Blue Mountains Explorer Bus. Besides the packed carriages, Fearnley also said the toilets were "absolutely disgraceful". "I have actually gotten off the train to go to the bathroom and caught another train," she said. "But then you lose time." Fearnley said she would not let her son use the toilets: "I've changed him standing up on the train but that is a whole different problem. You never know who's looking." Some passengers on the Blue Mountains line will stand for an hour or more - jostling for space in the train's narrow aisles and stairs with luggage, prams and bicycles - to reach popular tourist destinations such as Leura and Katoomba. The situation is even worse in the afternoon as passengers fill four-carriage trains that sometimes run only once an hour back to Sydney's Central Station. Most passengers seem resigned to the packed carriages, but some tourists express displeasure at having to stand. "It's quite sad when you think about it," Fearnley said. "I mean we should be showing some pride in what we have." Overcrowding on weekend train services to western Sydney and the Blue Mountains appears to be a growing problem. "One older lady, forced to stand up all the way to the Mountains, collapsed in the vestibule," Christopher Webber wrote on the Facebook Cityfail group in May. "Forcing people to stand for long journeys presents obvious safety issues. It doesn't need to happen, and it shouldn't happen," said Bob Nanva, the national secretary of the Rail, Tram and Bus Union. Nanva said he saw overcrowding on the Blue Mountains line every weekend. "When we're trying to sell the Blue Mountains as a global tourist destination, this sort of service is not just disappointing, it's embarrassing," he said. "We have people travelling to a world heritage tourism asset on a third world rail service." The Labor MP for Blue Mountains, Trish Doyle, said weekend trains to the Blue Mountains were "chronically overcrowded". "Every weekend, train passengers are crammed in like sardines on four carriage trains on the Blue Mountains line," she said on Facebook. Last year Doyle told the New South Wales state parliament that it is a problem for both visitors and locals. "Not only does this reflect poorly upon our public transport system for international and interstate visitors but also it drives local residents insane," she said. She said overcrowding could be solved by running six- or eight-carriage trains on weekends, but the NSW government did not want to pay for additional staff. A Transport for NSW spokesman said: "We know that our customers' needs are changing and acknowledge that more services on weekends are needed to meet demand into the future." He also said the government was spending A$1.5 billion to urgently increase capacity. New trains are expected on the Blue Mountains line from 2019. Other public transport to tourist destinations, such as ferries to Manly and buses to Bondi, also experience increased patronage outside of the weekday peak times. Have you ever caught the train to the Blue Mountains? Written by Andrew Taylor. First appeared on <a href="http://www.stuff.co.nz/" target="_blank">Stuff.co.nz</a>.

International Travel

“I gave it all up to live as a hermit in the mountains”

A 58-year-old former surveying technician from Belgium has taken up his new post as the official hermit of Saalfelden, living in a hut-sized chapel built into a cliff in the mountains of western Austria. Stan Vanuytrecht was one of about 70 candidates from the United States, India, Australia and several other countries who applied for the unpaid position at one of Europe's last hermitages. The job advertisement specified the candidate must be at peace with oneself" and "a connection to Christian belief". <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"> RT <a href="https://twitter.com/MatthiasRoeder1">@MatthiasRoeder1</a>: Beim neuen Einsiedler von Saalfelden. Der 58-jährige Stan Vanuytrecht in der Klause <a href="https://t.co/aGdzLdmxNN">pic.twitter.com/aGdzLdmxNN</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/tourismus?src=hash">#tourismus</a> — Martin Schobert (@joebertl) <a href="https://twitter.com/joebertl/status/858749583551332352">April 30, 2017</a></blockquote> The 350-year-old Roman Catholic hermitage, in the province of Salzburg, has no power, no running water and no heat. But it does have stunning views of a snow-covered glacier. The 40-square-metre dwelling is carved into a steep rock face 1001m above sea level. In his new life, Vanutrecht must climb down and than back up an elevation of 250m to fetch water. But sitting on a bench in the early summer sun in front of his chapel, he radiated the serenity of a man who has found all he wants. Puffing on a tobacco pipe and looking out across the Kitzsteinhorn glacier, he said the job ad changed his life. <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"> Kluizenaar worden, iets voor jou? Wel voor Stan Vanuytrecht (58), een diaken uit het Belgische Diest. <a href="https://t.co/GvDZAXcjyY">https://t.co/GvDZAXcjyY</a> <a href="https://t.co/uhFL0EOqJZ">pic.twitter.com/uhFL0EOqJZ</a> — NRC (@nrc) <a href="https://twitter.com/nrc/status/857141235601088515">April 26, 2017</a></blockquote> "I saw an ad on the internet saying that Saalfelden was looking for someone to replace the outgoing anchorite," Vanuytrecht said. "I immediately thought this would be the perfect place for me, but I never thought I'd have a chance." Alois Moser, Saalfelden's Catholic priest, and mayor Erich Rohrmoser, who posted the vacancy, said the idea was born out of necessity. Usually, the Saalfelden hermit lives in the chapel for many years and finds a successor himself. But the most recent hermit unexpectedly decided to leave after only one eight-month season last November, Moser said. "We seriously considered seven or eight candidates we talked to and to whom we showed the hermitage," Moser said. "But when we saw Stan, we knew that he is the one. He was so calm and settled." The applicants were told not to expect complete seclusion as many visitors come to the hermitage to enjoy the view, to pray and to talk. Vanuytrecht is prepared, with a glass of schnapps for hikers and a piece of cake for children always on hand. In his hut, behind the little kitchen, he has a small chapel to which he can lead people wanting to confide in him in private. "I enjoy talking to visitors during the day," he said, scratching his dog Jeanne. "At night and early in the morning I have enough time for myself." Do you think you could ever make the ultimate downsize? Written by Kirsti Knolle. First appeared on <a href="http://www.stuff.co.nz/" target="_blank">Stuff.co.nz</a>.

International Travel

Walking amongst mountains and glaciers at Mt Cook

Justine Tyerman is a New Zealand journalist, travel writer and sub-editor. Married for 36 years, she lives in rural surroundings near Gisborne on the East Coast of New Zealand with her husband Chris.In this piece, she finds one of the only flattish walks in the Aoraki-Mt Cook National Park. The ranger at the information centre gave me a peculiar look when I asked about flat walks in the area. "I don’t really do hills," I said to the impossibly-fit young fellow who looked as though he could sprint up Mt Cook before morning tea. Without displaying too much overt disdain at having to tear himself away from a real McCoy mountaineering pair who were seeking advice before setting off to tackle the Caroline Face with their crampons and ice-axes, he indicated that inferior species such as ourselves might like to attempt the hike up the Hooker Valley – apart from the walk from the carpark to the Hermitage, this was one of the few flat walks in Mt Cook National Park, which was, by definition, rather more full of mountains than flat places. Ignoring his scorn, we laced up our tramping boots, took up our day packs with survival gear just in case, grasped our walking sticks and headed for the track. We might have been mere day hikers but we were keen to look the part in this hearty alpine environment… as opposed to the Japanese ladies with their parasols and high heels and the Aussies with their jandals, or thongs as they call them. After we had successfully negotiated our way out of the carpark, we crossed a swing bridge, skirted around a cliff face on a well-formed track with safety rails, ambled up a wide valley with a profusion of wild flowers, along a board walk to protect the delicate eco-system, past a sobering memorial to all those who had gone beyond the flat walks and died trying to climb the peaks in the park… and then quite suddenly, we were in the presence of the almighty Aoraki, the Cloud Piercer – although there were no clouds to pierce that day. No matter how often we view her and from what angle, Mt Cook is a stunner. I had an overwhelming sense of spiritual ownership that Maori talk of when they refer to their maunga, their mountain. There are few places in the world where you can stroll through spectacular alpine terrain right to the foot of the country’s highest peaks in an hour or so without guides, oxygen and a team of sherpas or yaks carrying your life’s necessities for the next few months. Sitting at the foot of our mountain, eating our sandwiches in T-shirts and shorts on a clear summer day, we watched a group of elderly German hikers peel off, fold and carefully place every item of their clothing on a rock before donning swim suits for a dip in the Hooker Glacier lake, complete with icebergs. <img width="498" height="245" src="https://oversixtydev.blob.core.windows.net/media/36641/in-text_498x245.jpg" alt="In -text (2)"/> Justine at the glacier lake. Image credit: Justine Tyerman Hmmm… swimming with the icebergs. Not likely to catch on in a big way, but a fascinating spectator sport all the same. Pretending the water was not ridiculously cold seemed to be part of the ritual which they had evidently performed many times before around the world. As the only non-German, non-swimmers in the immediate vicinity, we were asked to be official photographers of the event. Sadly, we never thought to record it on our own camera. We couldn’t drag ourselves away from the national park that day and decided to pitch our wee tent just down the road at Glentanner camping ground where we could commune with Aoraki a while longer, and watch her in the splendour of sunset and sunrise. As the sun dropped behind Aoraki’s massive bulk painting the snow-topped peak pink and scarlet and gold, the view from our tent awning was far superior to even the best suite at The Hermitage. It gave us a smug sense of satisfaction… along with the exhilaration of having climbed to the dizzy height of at least 150 metres on our eight-kilometre flattish walk. Next day, I watched Aoraki, as I always do, until she dropped out of sight just beyond Lake Tekapo knowing we would see her again in her winter uniform a few months later. Justine Tyerman travelled courtesy of <a href="http://www.lovehomeswap.com/" target="_blank">Love Home Swap</a> and <a href="http://www.jucy.co.nz/" target="_blank">JUCY Rentals</a>.

Domestic Travel

The Northern Territory’s secret mountain range

Ever heard of the West MacDonnell Ranges? We didn’t think so. Here’s why you need to add it to your travel wishlist. Where are they? The MacDonnell Ranges stretch for hundreds of kilometres either side of Alice Springs. As the name suggest, the West MacDonnell Ranges roll out to the west of the town and became part of a national park in 1992. The park is easily accessible by round and can be reached all year round, though it is more comfortable during the cooler months from April to September. <img width="498" height="245" src="https://oversixtydev.blob.core.windows.net/media/35420/image__498x245.jpg" alt="Image_ (186)"/> Why are they so special? The short answer is, they are incredible beautiful. People tend to imagine the centre of Australia is nothing but dry and red. The West MacDonnell Ranges are stunningly beautiful with ochre coloured quartzite peaks, dramatic gorges, permanent waterholes and twisting trees under an endless bright blue sky. It’s a simple, quiet sort of beauty that you will find yourself falling in love with. The area is the traditional home of the Western Arrernte people, who have been living here for at least 20,000 years. The have a strong connection with the land and their Dreamtime stories tell of the giant caterpillars that became the mountains. <img width="498" height="245" src="https://oversixtydev.blob.core.windows.net/media/35421/image__498x245.jpg" alt="Image_ (187)"/> What can I do? The most famous tourist attraction in the West Macs (as they are known) is the Larapinta Trail. It’s one of the best walking trails in the country, a 223-kilometre ribbon that winds right through the ranges. There are 12 different sections, so you can walk part of it for a day or take on the whole journey over a couple of weeks. The walk runs very close to the main road, so it’s easy to pack a day bag and head out to walk one of the easier sections. There are lots of other great walking, trekking and cycling trails around the region. You can cool off with a dip in a hidden watering hole, climb to the top of one of the towering peaks or enjoy the shade of a steep gorge. There are many rare and threatened plant species to be found as well as curious wildlife and majestic birds. The area used to be part of Australia’s great inland sea, so there are lots of fossils embedded in the rocks – keep your eyes peeled. Have you ever been to the West MacDonnell Ranges?

International Travel

Great-grandma and cat survive 5 days lost in the mountains

No matter whether you’re five years old or 85 years old, there’s nothing quite as panic-inducing as becoming lost in a strange environment. Even with all of us carrying around an all-in-one tracking device, GPS locator, emergency phone and internet connection in our pockets every day, nothing brings out that primal sense of fear faster. However, for one great-grandmother, it was a strong survival instinct that overpowered that fear. Eight-five-year-old Ruby Stein from Colorado in the US was returning home with her cat Nikki in tow after visiting her granddaughter when she took a wrong turn, becoming stranded on a muddy, icy back road in the mountains for five days. <img width="498" height="245" src="https://oversixtydev.blob.core.windows.net/media/34982/image__498x245.jpg" alt="Image_ (166)" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> Stein’s mobile lost reception and her car battery gave up, leaving her unable to call emergency services or even flash her vehicle’s lights to signal for help. She was forced to ration the only food she had – Rice Krispy treats and a sweet roll – and for water, the ingenious octogenarian melted snow in a can on her car’s dashboard. She held Nikki to her chest to keep the pair warm, as well as maintaining heat under a pile of clothes in the back seat. <img width="498" height="280" src="https://oversixtydev.blob.core.windows.net/media/34981/image__498x280.jpg" alt="Image_ (165)" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"/> The situation became so dire, Stein even considered eating some of Nikki’s cat food. “When my Rice Krispies treat was getting close, I thought, ‘It might be good,’” she told the <a href="http://www.denverpost.com/2017/03/29/ruby-stein-colorado-mountains-survival/" target="_blank">Denver Post</a>. “I was looking out the window for foliage or something else to eat.” After five days, Stein and her cat were finally rescued by locals looking for a hiking track. “I heard a voice coming from the back seat of the car, very faint,” one of the rescuers, Dan Higbee, told <a href="http://www.9news.com/news/local/85-year-old-woman-survives-five-days-in-mountains-after-wrong-turn/426758682" target="_blank">9 News</a>. “[She said,] ‘No, I’m not okay I’ve been here since Tuesday and I need help.’” Stein, who miraculously avoided hypothermia and frostbite, says she owes her survival to remaining calm and optimistic. “I keep myself very calm, which surprised me. Of course, if you raise five kids, you know,” she told <a href="http://www.thedenverchannel.com/news/eastern-plains/great-grandmother-survives-5-days-stranded-in-mountains-with-her-cat" target="_blank">ABC 7 Denver</a>. “What will be, will be. You just got to accept it.” The great-grandma was finally reunited with her granddaughter, Alee Preuss, who had been distraught after failing to hear from her granny. “She means the world to absolutely every single one of us,” Alee told the Denver Post. “We love her to pieces. She’s right back to her normal self.”

News

Hero cat leads lost hiker off mountain

It sounds like something out of a fairytale, but footage has emerged this week of a hiker lost in the Swiss mountains, only to be led to safety by a black and white cat. The footage, posted by Reddit under the screenname sc4s2cg, shows a hiker who has become disoriented while exploring around the Swiss alpine town of Gimmelwald. sc4s2cg wrote in his post, Gimmelwald is a tiny, tiny stunningly beautiful village. I actually got ‘lost’ in the surrounding mountains. It was the end of ski season when I got to Lauterbrunnen, so the lifts weren't working and some of the trails were closed.” “So what I did was follow a roundabout trail up the mountain, and then follow those ski lifts further,” he continued. “Eventually I got to the top, decided to follow a train track into the middle of a totally empty town.” “I was checking my map to see how I can get back to the hostel, and the only official way down was through a trail that was closed. And that's how I met that handsome cat. She (?) noticed me I was eating a snack and resting my sprained ankle, and as soon as I got up she started guiding me along some path.” The story seems like something out of a fairytale, but the footage doesn’t lie! Have you ever encountered a hero cat? Let us know in the comments. Video credit: YouTube / AnimalsVideo Related links: <a href="/news/news/2016/08/dying-cat-comforts-owners-on-last-trip-to-vet/">Dying cat comforts owners on last trip to vet</a> <a href="/news/news/2016/08/meet-samson-the-biggest-cat-in-the-world/">Meet Samson, the biggest cat in the world</a> <a href="/news/news/2016/08/can-you-see-the-cat-sleeping-among-these-logs/">Can you spot the cat taking a nap among these logs?</a>

News

Mountain biker collides with bear while cycling

A cyclist in California was enjoying a casual ride near Lake Tahoe when he crashed his bike — into a bear. Davis Souza was mountain biking with friends on Mills Peak trail in the US when he crossed paths with the startled animal. He caught the whole collision on what appears to be a GoPro camera and posted the video to his Instagram. "This bear came out of nowhere and was gone before I could ask if it was alright or anything… Volume up!" he wrote. At first, it's tough to tell what is happening. But a closer look at the slow motion footage confirms that the bear definitely did not have the right of way. Have you ever had a bizarre animal encounter like this? Share your thoughts in the comments. Image credit: Instagram / savydouza Related links: <a href="/travel/international/2016/07/10-pictures-from-secret-english-villages/">10 pictures from secret English villages</a> <a href="/travel/international/2016/07/10-photos-capture-the-beauty-of-the-italian-dolomites/">10 photos capture the beauty of the Italian Dolomites</a> <a href="/travel/international/2016/07/10-views-you-can-only-experience-from-a-train/">10 views you can only experience from a train</a>

International Travel

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“I didn’t want to come out!”: Spanish mountaineer emerges after 500 days underground

New Gold Mountain review: a compelling murder mystery shines light on early Australian multiculturalism

Heroic mum fights off mountain lion with her bare hands

Climbing England’s deadliest peak

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Boy climbs UK's tallest mountain after being told he’d never walking again

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In the company of mountain gods

Go tell it to the mountain: A Switzerland adventure

Experiencing mountain magic in Switzerland’s Tschiertschen

The train ride to Blue Mountains is deterring tourists

“I gave it all up to live as a hermit in the mountains”

Walking amongst mountains and glaciers at Mt Cook

The Northern Territory’s secret mountain range

Great-grandma and cat survive 5 days lost in the mountains

Hero cat leads lost hiker off mountain

Mountain biker collides with bear while cycling