“Cable car” seemed like a generous term for the contraption that was suspended before me. A blue metal box with space for four (at a squeeze), dangled inside an open-front wooden garage from which a pulley system trailed down the hillside. I had pressed the button to alert the Töngi family at the bottom that my small hiking group was en route and held my breath as the thing shifted forward.

I had spent that morning hiking from the small town of Engelberg up to the cable car station in Eggendössli, 4,632 feet above sea level. The route up had been a sensory delight of tinkling cowbells, lush meadows peppered with wildflowers, lungfuls of fresh mountain air and the vertiginous peaks of the Uri Alps.

More than once I’d had to remind myself to keep my eyes on the oft-narrow trail, lest I roll an ankle gawping at the scenery. That’s Switzerland, though. You can stand in the midst of its landscapes and still be convinced it’s fake; a geographical steak too juicy, a lover too handsome.

Roughly 15 minutes and two cable cars later, our group had descended to 1,981 feet and trundled safely into the valley station of Mettlen. I took the edge off my adrenaline spike with a half-squished protein bar I fished out of my bag – my anxiety came more from a fear of unexpected drops than from exposure to heights – and geared up for round two of my Buiräbähnli Safari.

Engelberg-Titlis Tourism has curated a variety of themed hikes and this one – the farmer’s cable car safari – links the region’s scenic trails by way of small cable wagons that were historically used to transport goods to and from farms with limited road access.

While they are still useful for this purpose, today the cable cars function largely as a cultural touchstone and an additional income for the farmers who keep them operational for hikers to use. A Buiräbähnli pass costs CHF47 (£43) covering single journeys on eight different cars, but one must be careful not to lose it because the paper tickets must be torn off and handed directly to the farmers.

Up next was the Spisbahn, where I tried (and mostly failed) to parlay my grasp of High German into comprehension of Swiss German, but was nevertheless charmed by Josef Durrer. At a 3,937ft elevation, Spis is the alpine farm where Durrer grew up and his love for the two cable cars he operates – one from Fell to Spis, the other from Spis to Sinsgäu –was evident.

“Come,” he said with a grin, waving me into his control room and proudly pointing at a small screen where I watched a (safe but admittedly dodgy looking) red cable car glide into port, depositing the first three of our small group at the top of the hill.

All too soon it was my turn, and once I was back on solid ground I waved an enthusiastic thanks at the camera I knew Durrer was watching from below.

We set off on foot towards Chrüzhütte Bannalp, where we took a break for a fridge-cold beer (CHF* via honesty box) and the company of curious free-range chickens. Another hour’s push spent overlooking Bannalp Lake and crossing a lingering snowfield took us to our idyllic accommodation at Alp Oberfeld.

Situated in a meadow at a 6,102-foot elevation, flanked by the Nidwalden mountains, this working farm was an alpine dream. It’s operated by the Käslin family, who spend May to October, weather permitting, tending to their 100 goats.

Trudi Käslin showed us to our newly renovated dormitory room, where a bed cost CHF65 (£60), with breakfast, and comfortably slept six. It was so fresh, in fact, that were it not for the steady shuffle of hooves and bells below I would have had no idea we were sleeping above the goats.

While no shower facilities were available, the flushing toilet was a welcome upgrade from the fragrant, basement-dwelling compost toilets I faced on a previous Swiss hiking excursion in Saas-Fee. Sleep came easily that night, lulled as I was by the goats and my 30,314 step count.

The next morning’s descent via the 6.8-mile Walenpfad trail was an absolute pleasure. Renowned for its beauty (as if the rest of the region is ugly), the Walenpfad was one big panoramic view after another, along a just-right trail that never seemed too steep nor too flat.

Though we had rarely encountered other humans during our Buiräbähnli Safari, the early portion of the route was shared with countless goats, one of which took such a liking to me I could scarcely rip myself away from her sweet nuzzles to continue in the opposite direction.

My final day in Engelberg called for one more hike, though this one involved no dramatic elevation changes nor hair-raising cable car transfers.

The “Little Patagonia” route was a gentle half-day outing from Engelberg’s Fürenalp station, with a collection of peaks resembling Chilean Patagonia’s Torres del Paine. Adding to the romance of the day was our picnic lunch from Restaurant Fürenalp: a backpack loaded with white wine, iced tea, local cheese and sausage, fresh bread, roasted nuts, pickles and homemade almond croissants (CHF77/£71 for two people).

The evening finished with cold beers (from CHF6/£5.50) and quesadillas with Sbrinz cheese and jalapeno (CHF8/£7.30) at Ski Lodge’s Brasserie Konrad, proving once again that Switzerland doesn’t have to be a budget buster. For those willing to ride the old rails and sleep among the goats, it’s a real bargain.

How to get there

Swiss flies from the UK to Zurich and a Swiss Travel Pass (from CHF253 for three days, second class) offers unlimited use of the rail, bus and boat network. Engelberg is about two hours from Zurich by train, with one change.

Staying there

Hotel Bellvue-Terminus in Engelberg has doubles, with breakfast, from CHF110.
Alp Oberfeld on the Walenpfad trail has dormitory beds, with breakfast, from CHF65.

More information