ST. MORITZ, Switzerland » Trekking in the Alps atop the 8,047-foot Muottas Muragl, we were serenaded—not by yodelers or alpenhorns, but by a Swiss version of heavy metal music: the clanging of cows' bells mingled with the sounds of a swift-flowing river and soft breezes. Yet as I gazed out at the eye-popping panorama of the Engadin Valley sprawling from here to infinity, the music playing in my psyche's symphony was Wagner. This Valhalla-like vista of glaciers and snowcapped peaks strung around lakes suggests Nordic pagan deities, Valkyries, dragon slayers, stirringly trumpeted by the brass section. But in the dazzling early fall sunshine, this was the morning—not the twilight—of the gods.

I also could see the peaked roofs of Badrutt's Palace, nestled beside the lake at St. Moritz, Switzerland's swankiest city. The otherwordly view stretches northwest from Morteratsch Glacier to the 12,808-foot chalky Piz Palu. I hiked a narrow, pine-scented trail led by my 20-ish Swiss guide, Franziska. Crickets, yellow butterflies and dandelion strands floated by. Downhill were marmots, looking like Alpine prairie dogs. I'd ascended Muottas Muragl in a funicular, an inclined railway climbing 1.5 miles to the summit, so the “;trek”; up the mountain is a piece of strudel.

At the Unterer Schafberg crossroads, we descended to nearby Munt de La Bes Cha restaurant for lunch. At the cliff's edge we sat beneath yellow umbrellas and fluttering flags depicting ibexes (wild mountain goats with back-curving horns) and dined on risotto and delicious rhubarb nut cake.

Resuming the hike, we arrived at Alp Languard's chairlift, descending on seats-for-two suspended from cables. Franziska lowered the bar in front of us as we enjoyed the sensation of flight. Shortly before landing at the station, Franziska advised me to move briskly so the next chair didn't smack us. We alighted safely.

The next stop: the narrow streets of Pontresina, where we heard Romansh, one of four languages spoken in Switzerland. Amid impeccably neat houses was a pinkish one with green window shutters; in front was a wooden fountain with flowers and a wooden bird perched on an ersatz nest, wings spread, fish in beak. An off-white building features paintings of ibexes and wolves. Another chalet was decorated with images of an ibex, a pitchfork-wielding devil, a sun and a cable car. Museum Alpin documents the Engadin inhabitants' hardy lifestyles in southeastern Switzerland's sunniest and most upscale valley.

A chauffeur-driven black Rolls-Royce returned us to shining Badrutt's Palace, the North Star of St. Moritz's constellation of five-star hotels. Its posh pedigree is equivalent to that of Waikiki's Moana and the Pink Palace. A rectangular tower keep with an old-fashioned lamp, arched Canterbury windows and parapet climb skyward. The 159-room, 38-suite hotel is dominated by the trademark Palace Tower, its green, pyramidal peaked roof—Badrutt's logo—looms over Lake St. Moritz.

Badrutt's interior, decorated with antiques, collectibles and 2,000 pictures, also oozes Old World charm. There are “;trompes l'oeil”; tricking the eye, portraits of owners and Raphael's gigantic 1502 painting of Mary in the Madonna Room. An airy corridor stretches past terraces, fireplaces and through Le Grand Hall, with its Douglas fir ceiling and gothic arches, continuing down a red-carpet staircase to the capacious Le Restaurant, which seats 300 for fine dining (jacket and tie required). “;Regulars”;—seasonal habitues—have their own tables (the more important, the closer to the staircase), napkins bearing their engraved names. Some even bring private chefs.

The Badrutt family's hotelier tradition stretches back to around the Napoleonic Wars; their palace evolved from a wager. Britons summered at St. Moritz but left by September to avoid Switzerland's harsh winters. In 1864, to lure them back in wintertime, Johannes Badrutt made an offer: If they returned to St. Moritz by Christmas and found the weather too forbidding, he would pay their expenses. But he bet that if Englishmen witnessed Engadin Valley's sunny winters, they'd remain as paying guests. The rest is history, as winter tourism was born at St. Moritz. Badrutt's Palace opened at its present site in 1896 (five years before the Moana), flourishing and expanding with the years.

Today the Swiss “;village”; of St. Moritz features upscale shopping at Gucci, Armani, Chanel and Prada boutiques, plus unique sites such as a bobsledder statue and an 1640s farmhouse, Chesa Veglia, now part of Badrutt's, with several restaurants, including an exclusive pizzeria.

Badrutt's has two vacations seasons and is closed the rest of the year. The current winter season opened Dec. 3 and closes April 6. Winter sports include skiing, tobogganing, sleighing, mountaineering, ice skating, and—wilder than anything at Mokuleia or Waimanalo—the world's only professional polo matches played on a frozen lake! The Palace will reopen for summer season June 25.

I visited in early September as 2009's summer season closed. From the balcony of a spacious, well-appointed room with flat-screen TV, free Wi-Fi and (remarkably!) complimentary minibar, I saw sailboats crisscross the lake for the St. Moritz Match Race, a regatta with America's Cup competitors. En route to Sils-Maria we passed Lake Silvaplana with windsurfers' (in winter, snow-kiters') multicolored billowing sails. At Sils-Maria I enjoyed a pleasant horse-drawn carriage ride through a pine tree forest and tranquil Fex Valley to Hotel Sonne Fex. Dining on the patio Die Sonne lives up to its name, and proprietress Susanne Witschi-Fumm is the only person I glimpsed wearing traditional Swiss attire. Quite appropriate, as nearby Sils-Maria village is so Swiss-y it lures many visitors.

However, set amid Sils-Maria's charming chalets, cobblestones, clock towers and town barometer is something quite anomalous: The 1881-1888 home of philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. The Nietzsche-Haus, now a museum, is a lovely two-story beige house on the edge of a pine grove with flower boxes at each window, flanked by sky blue shutters. Nietzsche's presence inspired a niche market, as Sils-Maria hosts philosophy conferences. It's paradoxical that someone could reside in such a serene setting as Sils-Maria and write about the will to power, “;Uebermenschen”; (supermen) and the death of God and ultimately go mad, as Nietzsche did. Similarly, it's difficult to fathom how cinema's master of suspense, Alfred Hitchcock, could be a Badrutt's habitue yet create “;Psycho”; and “;The Birds.”;

Back at Badrutt's, I enjoyed a candlelit wine-tasting tour in the hotel wine cellar. Head sommelier Giuseppe Bovino said the cellar boasts more than 40,000 bottles and 600 labels. Bovino brandished $9,800 bottles of 1900 Chateau Lafitte Rothschilds. A good year, although Badrutt's priciest vintage is a $21,000 bottle of Romanee Conti from Burgundy.

Badrutt is spending $47 million on renovations. The new Wet Zone includes a large pool enclosed by picture windows with lake views, opening to a smaller outdoor heated, bubbly pool near a tennis court (an ice skating rink in winter). Behind a faux waterfall at the interior pool's edge is a Jacuzzi. Icy pellets drop in the Ice Room; rain falls in the Mist Room. Guests can sweat in style inside Aroma and Salt steam rooms or ladies-only and mixed saunas. A relaxation room has plush leather loungers, headphones and lake and mountain views. A new wellness center will be completed by June.

Managing Director Hans Wiedmann's wife, Martha, who is from India, is the hotel's wellness adviser. The spa will use organic products and each treatment room will be named after native flowers, with windows and natural light.

You don't have to put on the ritz to stay at St. Moritz. In summer Badrutt's' least expensive village view rooms cost $216-ish per night, including complimentary buffet breakfasts with “;cafe macchiatos”; or cappuccinos, minibar, flat-screen satellite TV, concierge service, Rolls-Royce pickups and the Wet Zone.

To Hitchcock and Nietzsche's ghosts, I say, “;You should have stopped and smelled the roses”; in St. Moritz and its lovely surroundings. Unlike their gloomy philosophies, the Engadin Valley I experienced provided at least a fleeting feeling of serenity. On our troubled planet what colossal good luck to be surrounded by eternal beauty and prosperity. Au contraire, Herr Nietzsche—God is alive, well and omnipresent in this sunny, well-to-do valley, Switzerland's very own Shangri-La.

Ed Rampell is a former Makaha resident who co-wrote “;Made in Paradise: Hollywood's Films of Hawaii”; and “;The South Seas and Pearl Harbor in the Movies.”;