After four rainy days, the clouds parted and we laced up our walking shoes. The sun had apparently been on loan to the Mediterranean and we didn’t want to waste a moment now that it had returned. We were heading out for a hike in the Alps. To reach the starting point for our walk, we had to go up out of the valley. This meant an aerial cable car ride from Wengen (elevation 1282 m) to Männlichen (elevation 2222 m), almost 3,000 feet up. Dangling on a wire. While I’m not especially keen on heights, I was the first in line for my ticket: if we didn’t start our hike at the top, we were in for an uphill climb and that certainly wasn’t what I had signed up for. Plus, I took great comfort in the assurances provided by Ueli, the experienced mountaineering guide who had taken us to the Jungfrau. He told us that in all his years in Switzerland, there had never been any cable car accidents on these lines. Furthermore, he noted, “when those cables are retired we sell them to the Italians and they use them for another twenty years!” I was glad we were in Switzerland. In the end, the ride was smooth and remarkably fast; we reached the summit in less than fifteen minutes. The kids looked out the windows, while I looked over our fellow passengers. I observed that most of them looked as though they did this sort of thing often. They ranged dramatically in age, but all were quite fit and seemed to be sporting sturdy hiking boots and walking sticks (the kind that looked like ski poles). I wondered what you used those for. We were in sneakers but were armed with naïve enthusiasm and a touch of cabin fever. We could do it, I was certain. As we disembarked, the crowd headed for the “Panoramaweg,” a 90-minute easy and immensely popular trail. On the advice of Martina, our hostess at the Hotel Berghaus in Wengen, we took the alternate route to the “Romantikweg,” a 7.2km trail with an estimated completion time of 2.5 hours. It promised breathtaking views minus the mobs. She was totally right. We didn’t get far before we encountered the cows. Some were sitting, some standing. All were chewing happily. They looked like props set against the backdrop of the mighty alpine peaks. Carter had a sudden inspiration and began recording video from all sorts of crazy angles (he may do a video post for a giggle). Piggy even said “hello” to one of the cows, albeit from a cautious distance. We hiked happily for almost three hours. A better writer would be able to describe what we saw. For my part, I will let the pictures speak and simply say that everywhere we turned there was a stunning vista to take in: blue sky, snow-capped mountains, lush green meadows sprinkled with wildflowers, and air that felt unnaturally cool and fresh to breath. I imagine it was what poets meant when they referred to something as “food for the soul” and we were feasting. Figuratively, at least. Soon, our bellies quietly rumbled and we all began looking ahead to lunch at the trail’s end. It was after 1:30 and breakfast was four hours and three (alpine) miles ago. Then, we experienced something akin to a desert wanderer’s oasis mirage, only it was real! There, in the middle of the mountain trail, was a solar-powered small refrigerator filled with local cheese for sale. A small sign in several languages told us that it was self-service. We grinned, made our selection, and deposited our Swiss francs in the jar. It took us over four hours to complete the trail. We ambled along, savoring each step along with a bit of Gruyere from heaven. We were walking on sunshine.