Russell returns to bloggin' action

Should be many pictures up on Flickr - check it out!
http://www.flickr.com/search/groups/?q=h2h&m=names

Stardate 1.24 Chief Bellringer Glockl ringing in the report of the week:
Sleeping and hiking, two mutually exclusive entities. When one stays at mountain huts, there is often a lack of bathing facilities, forcing one to wash ones pits, nooks, and crannies, by splashing cold water on dry, soap-rubbed skin, in a communal bathroom. This duty is often performed by numerous other sweaty men in close proximity, spreading the liquids and what they contain far and wide and mutually. Who knows how many weeks or years it has been since some of these fellow hikers have washed. Thus the effluent is particularly nasty, and to be avoided if at all possible. This leads one to neglect the whole filthy process, thereby increasing one's own future nasty contributions.That is, if one can ever pluck up the courage to brave the daunting trough. I say trough as there is often not a sink, just something that obviously could be construed as both a multiperson urinal as well as a sink as I have seen it used for both purposes. Composed of stainless steel, these troughs can, and probably have been used for a variety of farm projects such as sheep dipping, animal birthing, and cheese making. Though these bathrooms with their troughs are communal, one never sees a woman enter such rooms. Women are obviously too smart to ever consider utilizing the trough-rooms, given that numerous plagues and communicable ailments can be traced back to their usage.
Inadequately abluted, one enters the,if one is lucky, three to six bed communal sleeping room. If one is unlucky, the room sleeps forty to sixty people. Sleep is out of the question for a variety of reasons which I would like to outline for you here. This is not meant to dissuade the future Swiss hiking-oriented visitor; rather, to prepare you for the viscissitudes that await. Forewarned is fore-prepared - sleep is not to be your lot.
Firstly, all animals in Switzerland, both large and small, come equipped with their own low-tech location chip known as die Glocke, the bell. With every movement of the head the bell rings, creating that "Sound of Music"-like atmosphere that we who live elsewhere all secretly yearn for. Initially the rustic charm of the bells captivates, as one hikes the trails of the Alps. It is only at night that this sound turns into the Swiss version of fingernails scraping across blackboards. The sound is incessant, penetrating, and irregular. You will not sleep because of these diabolical animal-powered bells and the lack of sleep will eventually cause you to adopt various methods to promote sleep, none of which will work. You might try ear plugs, benadryl, any number of benzodiazepines, ethanol, exhaustion, and overeating, but the noise is ubiquitous, not to be diminished, and leads to a permanent state of disgruntled hyperawareness, a million miles from the land of restfulness. Herds of sheep, goats, and cows commune right underneath your bedroom window, obviously all nocturnal species. The term herd should be changed. An orchestra of sheep, a tympany of goats, a cacophony of cows would be more appropriate.
The bell is sadly not just given to the dumb animals (ludicrous to call them dumb in this context) for your obvious torture. No, the bells also have been created in maximature and placed in every building with over two stories on every street corner, in every village, near every Hut, Lo ! even in the vast wildernesses of the Hinterlands on mountain tops, and these church bells fill the gaps that the animal bells occasionally leave. Nearing airport decibel levels, the ringing of these church bells bears no relationship to telling the time of day or night. These bells can ring out in uneven intervals, separated by minutes or hours, with no rhyme or reason. It's 0523am ring the bells for twenty two minutes! Seventeen minutes later - let's do that again! There is no recognizable musical consideration directing the bell playing, or perhaps the bellringers all have stutters and tremorous palsies. Why they seem so caffeinated in the middle of the night escapes my comprehension. Sadly, my bedroom is always directly facing the bell tower, and I must constantly experience this altered state of time reckoning. My watch has started to make small chiming noises and I fear it too has been subverted.
As you listen to the interrupting bells, the room begins to fill up with fellow hikers. They bring in all their equipment, which smells, if possible, worse than they do, and set it in the aisles between the beds, artfully arranged to trip you up, should you need to relieve yourself at night. You are tired and in bed by often 2130, but the room doesn't get quiet until usually around midnight due to ubiquitous alcohol-fueled revelers. The early mountain scalers are often up by 0200am for peak peak summiting conditions, which by my calculations gives you a good thirty minutes of possible sleeping time. Sadly, forty to sixty people in a room leads to a constant cacophony of night noises that provides off-pitch counterpoint to the church and animal bells. All senses are assaulted in an overwhelming attack, and sleep is no where to be found. The itchy scratch of the hairy furry sheets, Schnarchen (snoring), noxious gaseous hinter-expulsions fueled by goat cheese, head lamps and automatic lights powered by the movement of bodies and doors, the taste of your gorge as it rises in complaint, or perhaps the mossiness of your teeth because you forgot to brush, all contribute to yet another night in the wonderful Alps of Insomnia.
At least there is breakfast to look forward too - pork in aspic. Did I mention I fell asleep while hiking a few days ago? Thus elusive sleep is found in bed with injurious agony.

Bradley's rule of hiking # 24 Do not sing while hiking uphill.
Bradley's rules of hiking #173 Combat chafe prior to it's inception by planning non-movement oriented ventures.

Quote of the day: " You know how I know your gay? You're hiking in the Alps"
Quote of the trip so far: " So what are you going to do for exercise en route?"

Stage 24 -- Elm to Linthal -- part three

<continued>

After a short lunch, because darker clouds were closing in, we descended rapidly towards Linthal, reaching it in the middle of the afternoon after about 7.5 hours of hiking (thankfully faster than planned). On the way down we were passed by a mountain runner who had come up the mountain almost three times as fast as we had: most impressive, although we all agreed that we had absolutely no desire to emulate the feat.

Fortunately the rain held off. Unfortunately Linthal turned out to be a bit of a failed village from a town planning standpoint: the antithesis of Elm The fact that the road to the Klausenpass, traversed by several thousand vehicles a day, goes the length of the long straggling village undoubtably does not help the matter. Add in the fact that our hotel is so-so, and that Thomas left (thereby robbing us of our ability to play Team Spades with one another), and the result is that this is perhaps a rest day that if I did the H2 again I'd probably not spend in Linthal.

But (and by now it is Saturday as I finish off this post) tomorrow we hike further -- to the Klausenpass -- and today I have this blog, and email, and reservations, and various other things to do. In fact, I think I'll give this "smartphone" to Russ so he can blog and then I'll take a nap now....

Posting difficulties

Apologies for the chaos of half-finished posts and posts in the wrong order The culprit is this so-called "smart phone" that I am using: it sometimes breaks off in the middle of sending an email, without an explanation. It sometimes sends emails in a different order than the order in which I put them into the queue to be sent. I think I can work around the problems I have identified so far, but to the extent I am unable to or new problems crop up... Sorry!

Guy

Stage 24 -- Elm to Linthal -- part two

<continued>
And so once again it was with some regret that we walked out of the hotel at 7:15 on Friday morning to hike the next stage over the Richetli Pass to the village of Linthal. The fine weather eased our way, however, and we were soon walking up valley quite briskly, in order to make it more difficult for the annoying small horseflies to settle upon our bare legs and arms. "We" in this case were Thomas and I, Sally and Russell being immune because they typically hike in long sleeved shirt and pants.

It was a beautiful walk and the path seemed to have been thoughtfully laid out so as to make it as easy as possible to climb the 1450m to the pass. After about 3h we came to a mountain restaurant where we had some excellent home-made cake, then climbed up past herds of cows (one of which developed a worrying interest in me, following and almost chasing me along the path, perhaps because I had a red fleece fixed to the back of my pack, thought Russell, or maybe because I looked like a cowherd, thought Thomas) to the pass

Stage 24 -- Elm to Linthal -- part one

<reminder: some photos now available at:
http://www.flickr.com/search/groups/?q=h2h&m=names
>

Friday July 20th, 2007

The rest day in Elm was very pleasant indeed. The valley is superb: wide and green and with dramatic views up to the almost 3000m peaks on all sides. Particularly interesting to me was that you can really see the geology for once, exemplified best by the Martinsloch, a huge (at least 30m by 30m) hole all the way through a ridge high above the valley. The hole formed because softer rock underlying the tougher rock of the top of the ridge has worn away, and in fact you can see the hard/soft dividing line all the way up and down the valley. An interesting fact: the sun shines through the hole onto the church of the village exactly twice a year: at the beginning of Spring and the beginning of Autumn.

The village itself is absolutely charming: they have done a superb job of preserving beautiful old buildings while integrating some modern structures and facilities. And although the village caters very nicely to tourists, it still has a life apart from tourism, with many school-age children and farming and local businesses. The valley is a dead-end as far as roads are concerned and so there is very little traffic; yet even so a bypass for the main road has been built, so there are next to no cars and trucks in the center of the village itself. I liked it a great deal.

And then our Hotel, the Elmer, was also excellent: with modern reasonably sized rooms (although the bathtub in his room was a little small for Russell -- pictures forthcoming!), a good restaurant, and a very nice terrace out back looking over a green meadow, frequented by cats and rabbits, to the Martinsloch. It also had a nicely integrated external glass elevator, which Russell and I used religiously in order to avoid the two flights of stairs :-).

The hotel owner was exceedingly welcoming and helpful, with many suggestions of things to do in the area and even offering us (multiple times) the use of her car if we wanted to do anything too far away to walk. Her disappointed incomprehension at our apparent desire to spend the whole day sitting around writing postcards and playing games, despite the excellent weather, was so evident that I had to reassure her that although we might seem slothful to her it was only because we were so active on the days we hiked!

<to be continued>

Stage 24 -- Elm to Linthal

<reminder: some photos now available at:
http://www.flickr.com/search/groups/?q=h2h&m=names
>

Friday July 20th, 2007

The rest day in Elm was very pleasant indeed. The valley is superb: wide and green and with dramatic views up to the almost 3000m peaks on all sides. Particularly interesting to me was that you can really see the geology for once, exemplified best by the Martinsloch, a huge (at least 30m by 30m) hole all the way through a ridge high above the valley. The hole formed because softer rock underlying the tougher rock of the top of the ridge has worn away, and in fact you can see the hard/soft dividing line all the way up and down the valley. An interesting fact: the sun shines through the hole onto the church of the village exactly twice a year: at the beginning of Spring and the beginning of Autumn.

The village itself is absolutely charming: they have done a superb job of preserving beautiful old buildings while integrating some modern structures and facilities. And although the village caters very nicely to tourists, it still has a life apart from tourism, with many school-age children and farming and local businesses. The valley is a dead-end as far as roads are concerned and so there is very little traffic; yet even so a bypass for the main road has been built, so there are next to no cars and trucks in the center of the village itself. I liked it a great deal.

And then our Hotel, the Elmer, was also excellent: with modern reasonably sized rooms (although the bathtub in his room was a little small for Russell -- pictures forthcoming!), a good restaurant, and a very nice terrace out back looking over a green meadow, frequented by cats and rabbits, to the Martinsloch. It also had a nicely integrated external glass elevator, which Russell and I used religiously in order to avoid the two flights of stairs :-).

The hotel owner was exceedingly welcoming and helpful, with many suggestions of things to do in the area and even offering us (multiple times) the use of her car if we wanted to do anything too far away to walk. Her disappointed incomprehension at our apparent desire to spend the whole day sitting around writing postcards and playing games, despite the excellent weather, was so evident that I had to reassure her that although we might seem slothful to her it was only because we were so active on the days we hiked!

And so once again it was with some regret that we walked out of the hotel at 7:15 on Friday morning to hike the next stage over the Richetli Pass to the village of Linthal. The fine weather eased our way, however, and we were soon walking up valley quite briskly, in order to make it more difficult for the annoying small horseflies to settle upon our bare legs and arms. "We" in this case were Thomas and I, Sally and Russell being immune because they typically hike in long sleeved shirt and pants.

It was a beautiful walk and the path seemed to have been thoughtfully laid out so as to make it as easy as possible to climb the 1450m to the pass. After about 3h we came to a mountain restaurant where we had some excellent home-made cake, then climbed up past herds of cows (one of which developed a worrying interest in me, following and almost chasing me along the path, perhaps because I had a red fleece fixed to the back of my pack, thought Russell, or maybe because I looked like a cowherd, thought Thomas) to the pass

Stage 24 -- Elm to Linthal

<reminder: some photos now available at:
http://www.flickr.com/search/groups/?q=h2h&m=names
>

Friday July 20th, 2007

The rest day in Elm was very pleasant indeed. The valley is superb: wide and green and with dramatic views up to the almost 3000m peaks on all sides. Particularly interesting to me was that you can really see the geology for once, exemplified best by the Martinsloch, a huge (at least 30m by 30m) hole all the way through a ridge high above the valley. The hole formed because softer rock underlying the tougher rock of the top of the ridge has worn away, and in fact you can see the hard/soft dividing line all the way up and down the valley. An interesting fact: the sun shines through the hole onto the church of the village exactly twice a year: at the beginning of Spring and the beginning of Autumn.

The village itself is absolutely charming: they have done a superb job of preserving beautiful old buildings while integrating some modern structures and facilities. And although the village caters very nicely to tourists, it still has a life apart from tourism, with many school-age children and farming and local businesses. The valley is a dead-end as far as roads are concerned and so there is very little traffic; yet even so a bypass for the main road has been built, so there are next to no cars and trucks in the center of the village itself. I liked it a great deal.

And then our Hotel, the Elmer, was also excellent: with modern reasonably sized rooms (although the bathtub in his room was a little small for Russell -- pictures forthcoming!), a good restaurant, and a very nice terrace out back looking over a green meadow, frequented by cats and rabbits, to the Martinsloch. It also had a nicely integrated external glass elevator, which Russell and I used religiously in order to avoid the two flights of stairs :-).

The hotel owner was exceedingly welcoming and helpful, with many suggestions of things to do in the area and even offering us (multiple times) the use of her car if we wanted to do anything too far away to walk. Her disappointed incomprehension at our apparent desire to spend the whole day sitting around writing postcards and playing games, despite the excellent weather, was so evident that I had to reassure her that although we might seem slothful to her it was only because we were so active on the days we hiked!

And so once again it was with some regret that we walked out of the hotel at 7:15 on Friday morning to hike the next stage over the Richetli Pass to the village of Linthal. The fine weather eased our way, however, and we were soon walking up valley quite briskly, in order to make it more difficult for the annoying small horseflies to settle upon our bare legs and arms. "We" in this case were Thomas and I, Sally and Russell being immune because they typically hike in long sleeved shirt and pants.

It was a beautiful walk and the path seemed to have been thoughtfully laid out so as to make it as easy as possible to climb the 1450m to the pass. After about 3h we came to a mountain restaurant where we had some excellent home-made cake, then climbed up past herds of cows (one of which developed a worrying interest in me, following and almost chasing me along the path, perhaps because I had a red fleece fixed to the back of my pack, thought Russell, or maybe because I looked like a cowherd, thought Thomas) to the pass

Stage 22 -- Sargans to Vorsiez

<reminder: some photos now available at:
http://www.flickr.com/search/groups/?q=h2h&m=names
>
July 17th, 2007

Thomas Goessl arrived the evening before while we were in the middle of an excellent and atmospheric meal at Schloss Sargans. Atmospheric, both because we ate in the courtyard of the ancient castle, and also because the Foehn wind was blowing with unusual force (which we forgave because it had kept us from cooking during the day's hike).

Russell and Sally had been making noises about going back to the room to put their feet up and relax around 8PM, but Thomas' arrival gave them new energy and it was after 10 when we retired. Other than our charming running waitress dressed in period clothing and speaking a broad dialect that had Russell and I looking at each other in bemusement after every interaction, the only other event of note was Thomas' first question: when's the rest day? Sally, recognizing an ally, was overjoyed :-).

The hike to Vorsiez was fairly short, and the weather was forecast to be excellent, so we had a realtively late breakfast at 8:30 and set off around 9:15. The path up the narrow Weisstannen valley was lovely, with one section in particular past a spectacular forest waterfall that seemed like something out of the opening scenes of Raiders of the Lost Ark. We stopped for lunch early at the Gasthof zur Muehle about 30 minutes before Weisstannen, where I had the freshest salad so faron the trip ("Wollen Sie auch ein Salat? Da muss ich es aus dem Garten holen!" -- "Do you also want a salad? In that case I'll have to get it from the garden!"... and she did.)

Alpe Vorsiez was a funny blend of Kaeserei (dairy) and Gasthof with a goat that climbed on tables and ate the geraniums in the window boxes until it was caught and returned to its field. Russ and Sally retired early and Thomas and I talked about the H2H.

Thomas felt that there was something quintessentially British about it, perhaps because it involved great effort to achieve what were essentially arbitrary goals (similar in that respect to the many games and sports invented by the British). He said that were he to do something similar he would probably have some spiritual goal in mind, perhaps like a pilgrimage along the Jakobsweg (but not actually the Jakobsweg since he has heard from too many sources that it is crowded and has many unattractive sections).

My claim that there was something of spiritual, although not religious, significance in the linking of the houses was brushed aside as being insufficiently serious. Since, however, Thomas was unable to name a specific spiritual goal he would like to achieve through a hike, and moreover said that he would never do such a long hike anyway, I was left wondering if the British approach of setting arbitrary goals is not perhaps better than the alternative!

We turned in around 10PM, both because our host obviously wanted to turn in, and also because the following day we would need to be up early to hike over for the first pass of the seventeen along the Swiss Alpine Pass Route!

Stage 23 -- Vorsiez to Elm

<reminder: some photos now available at:
http://www.flickr.com/search/groups/?q=h2h&m=names
>

July 18th, 2007

After an early breakfast we hiked off around 7:50 to cross the Foo pass on the way to the village of Elm and, after five days straight of hiking, another well-deserved rest day.

In theory the hike was a simple one: up the valley, over the pass, and descend to Elm. In practice, and for the first time on the H2H, we lost our way. More precisely, since I'm responsible for maps and directions, I got us lost. Frankly, I'm amazed that this was the first time: I'm not that good at map-reading. We lost about 30 minutes while going up and down an extra 100m or so before we worked out where the trail must be (or rather, to where it had been relocated by an unhelpful farmer!).

The rest of the hike was beautiful and uneventful, up a wild valley, across a large high-altitude wild-flower-strewn meadow, and over a grassy pass between high stony peaks before descending through similar surroundings to Elm. On the way up we didn't talk much (oxygen deficiency has that effect), but on the way down, in part to take our minds off of foot pain, we did.

A chance remark of mine to Sally about the Dark Ages led to a vigorous revisionist discourse from Thomas who claimed that in point of fact that the term "Dark Ages" was a misnomer, since they were a time of great intellectual and spiritual developments that laid the basis for Europe's later global supremacy.

In support he cited the Frankish kings conservation of Roman civil organization and practices, the linking of church and state in the Pope's granting of the title of Holy Roman Emperor, the missionary activities of the Irish monks, the idea of the Crusades, and various legal codices demonstrating the continued existence of societal law and order.

He took particular issue with the image popularized by Renaissance intellectuals of the lights going out with the fall of Rome and only coming back on in 14thC Italy.

In vain did I argue that political expediency and a few new concepts in no way made up for the rapid decline of most of those factors characteristic of civilization, such as the population crash and the shrinkage of cities, the loss of engineering skills and cessation of wide-spread education, the gradual decay of the road and public health infrastructures, and the general absence of significant new developments in art or science.

Moreover, I pointed out, the exaggeration of some Italian Renaissance intellectuals should not invalidate the use of the term "Dark Ages" to describe what was by all statistical measures a prolonged period of significant absolute decline vis a vis the age of the Roman Empire.

Thomas would hear nothing of it: resorting to statistics was indicative of the old Anglo-German disagreement as to the importance of civilization versus culture, he said. The cultural developments that allowed Western Europe rather than Byzantium to inherit the mantle of Rome were made during the so-called Dark Ages, and thus invalidated the term. The general decline of civilization was of relatively minor comparative importance.

Needless to say, I continued to disagree, vigorously, and the long descent into Elm went by remarkably quickly. In fact, it wasn't until we were down in the valley walking into Elm at around 3:15PM that I realized how tired my legs and how painful my feet were. The shower and pre-dinner relaxation on the bed watching the Tour de France were most welcome, as was the prospect of the rest day on the morrow!

Stage 21 -- Vaduz to Sargans

<reminder: some photos now available at:
http://www.flickr.com/search/groups/?q=h2h&m=names
>

Well, that was the hottest day's hike I can ever remember doing. The weather forecast said it would be 35C in the Swiss Alpine valleys, and I believe it. We only hiked from about 10:15 to 15:30 (with over an hour's break at lunch), and still arrived both footsore and drained. You knew I was going to say it sooner or later, so here it is: fortunately the weather is due to take a turn for the worse tomorrow, with increasing likelihood of showers then rain and cooler. Hurrah!

Vaduz is a funny little place: very Mediterranean in feel (although the sweltering temperatures may have been responsible for a significant part of this impression), and in appearance like a miniature capital city. By this I mean that the sort of representative buildings that one finds in other national capitals such as the House of Parliament or the Central Bank building or the National Gallery were also here... just smaller. I liked it.

I also liked the food at dinner in (or rather in the garden restaurant of) our hotel last night: superb quality, excellent presentation and service, good portion size (are you noting all of this, Lidia? :-) -- one of the best meals, IMHO, we have had on the trip so far. Not as inventive as Maximilian's in Oberstdorf, but ultimately perhaps more satisfying.

For the hike I opted for a slightly lower route than originally planned, through Azmoos rather than Oberschans, because I couldn't face much climbing in the heat and much descent with my Morton's acting up. We went therefore through a delightful series of little villages and hamlets, sometimes on paths, sometimes on small roads, with fields and orchards and idyllic little houses and gardens all around. Very pleasant indeed.

The views, of course, remained spectacular: we were high enough above the Rhine valley floor to be able to see all of the mountains and side valleys, and it is a very impressive setting. We also passed a couple of imposing ruined castles, and one particularly fine young redwood tree, all of which were duly photographed.

The initial few minutes in Sargans were less delightful, as we passed through an area of light industry and some non-descript houses, but we soon arrived in the Altstadt where our hotel was and were quickly rewarded with a much more pleasant setting.

Tonight I think we will eat outside on the terrace of Schloss Sargans, set on a spur of rock above the Old Town and with a beautiful view over the valley. But for now I'm going to put my feet up, listen to some music, and rehydrate body and mind.

Stage 20 -- Gafadura Huette to Vaduz

<reminder: some photos now available at:
http://www.flickr.com/search/groups/?q=h2h&m=names
>

It was with some regret that we took leave of the Gafadura Hut at 7:45 this morning, because rarely have we found such a welcoming host, and never before such excellent food in a mountain hut. Lidia has pointed out that almost every blog post I do contains one or more references to food -- to which I must respond: well, of course! Other than the state of one's feet, there is nothing quite as important on a long hike as food. And so when one finds such large portions of excellently prepared food as at the Gafadura Hut, well, that is cause for celebration and certainly worthy of note in a blog post!

The fact that the views from the hut were spectacular, the sunset behind the Swiss mountains across the Rhine valley sublime, the temperature perfect to sit outside until it was dark and the lights of the towns below lit up the night... well, all these things are also very welcome, but the food, well, the food must take priority :-).

We, or at least I (because I think that I was the only one who read the brochure on Liechtenstein that our host gave us) learned a number of interesting facts about this tiny land (165km2, I believe), but perhaps the most interesting we learned simply by sitting there: they greet one another by sayin "Hoi!". I have never heard it anywhere else, and I like it. I think I'll adopt it for greetings henceforth. Since there are some 35,000 Lichtensteiners, sooner or later someone is bound to answer :-).

Today was a scorcher: cloudless and very hot. I think it must have been at least 35C in Vaduz, and although less at the heights where we spent most of the day, it was still hot enough to require copious consumption of water. Which made it a little unfortunate that I had a minor flood in my pack about an hour and a half into the hike this morning.

The sipping tube to my Camelpak (in-pack water container) wasn't projecting as far as usual so I gave it a good yank. A couple of minutes later, while climbing a ladder, I felt cold liquid dripping down my butt: the yank had pulled the tube off of its connector and a liter plus of water was busy percolating through my pack. Memo to self: treat Camelpak with more care in the future. Luckily everything important was sealed in Ziploc bags and moreover I was able to quickly pour out most of the water, so no actual damage was done: but by the end of the day I was much thirstier than I had expected to be.

It was a long hike -- some 7.25 hours, not counting breaks -- but what a hike! I think this was the best day yet in terms of views and the trail. The views were immense: from Lake Constance to the north, to the Widderstein (and much further, but that was the only peak I recognized) to the east, and into and over the deep valley of the Rhine far into the glacier-topped mountains of Switzerland to the west. Only to the south did nearby higher mountains limit the view, but with so much else to gawk at a complaint about this would be churlish.

The trail was similarly spectular: very varied, ranging from meadows, to steep hillside traverses, to forests, to ridge walks, to Klettersteig-like stretches with cables and ladders among tortured stony spires with huge (1500m+) drop offs to the west. There was even one stretch -- the Fuerstensteig -- that would have not have looked out of place in the American West, so stony and eroded was the mountainside across which the trail had been laid. It was a truly spectacular hike.

There were many others on the trails, it being Sunday, but with cheery "Hoi"s, and a smattering of "Gruezi"s and "Gruss Gott"s and "Hallo"s, it felt more like a gathering of friends than a crowd of strangers. One Liechtensteiner couple we met on one of the peaks offered us each a Haribo wine gum and then told us about someone they had met earlier in the day who made us H2H hikers feel a little small.

Apparently this fellow had started in Linz, Austria, some 450km to the east, about a month ago and since then had been walking westwards, spending each night sleeping outside on top of a peak. His eventual goal, he told them, was Spain. Well, there's no point in trying to construct a defense: as an expedition that clearly beats the H2H. On the other hand, we probably smell better than he does, and as I sit in the charming Hotel Real in Vaduz, fresh from a shower and looking forward to a nice dinner in the restaurant, I think that I would not like to exchange places with him.