February 9, 2022

Day 038. Steinhaus to Kasseler Hutte. 12 Km. 8 Hrs. 1780 m up. 650m down. It was dark outside when the alarm went off at 0400. I had decided to have an early start because the forecast said it would cloud over by midday and also today was a bit of an unknown quantity when it came to how long it would take. By the time I packed, made up all the 7 rolls with butter, cheese and tomato and then had my breakfast of 3 of these rolls and a half litre of yoghurt it was already 0530 and completely light outside. The sky was totally clear and developing a blue hue from the grey of the dawn. 

I quickly found the route out of town up an asphalt road which zig-zagged up for 10 minutes to a lovely old farm. The farmer was of course already up and he was going into his barn to milk his cows. We greeted each other before he disappeared inside the large wooden barn which was sitting on a huge fortress-like foundation of stones. I left the asphalt road which went to more farms on the side of this side valley and continued up on a forest track for nearly half an hour to a cluster of 3 farms quite high up in the small Keilbachtal valley which I was heading up. Only one looked like it was still operating and was very pretty, while the other two were in good condition structurally but the curtains were all drawn and the paint on the windows was peeling. I am sure the owners of the two dormant farms are working elsewhere and perhaps lease or gift the hay in their meadows to the remaining farmer. 

The route now left the track and went up through the fir forest on a tiny seldom used path until it reached a serene meadow on the small valley floor. There were 3 haylofts here and someone had recently mown and gathered the first cut. I assumed it was stored in these haylofts. I picked up the track again which I am sure I would have been better off following, thus avoiding the faint forest path, and walked up it through the rest of the serene meadow and a section of forest above it. Beside the track in the forest there were thousands of the large spotted orchid, with at least 50 to a square metre in places. 

Unfortunately this lovely track came to an end and I was on a tiny footpath again. It climbed steeply beside the Keilbach stream which was cascading down a long slab of steep rock from far above. It was not a powerful torrent but it spread out across the slabs and was visible through the trees. It took a good half hour to climb up beside it reaching a very rickety bridge which was covered in gravel presumably from yesterday’s deluge. Wires anchored it to both banks otherwise I am sure it would have got swept down the slabs. There was an alm here and someone was living in the cabin, which was far from pretty. They were keeping goats as there were signs everywhere to keep dogs on a lead with pictures of goats. 

The tiny path now went up the west side of the stream which was much more sedate as it flowed down the more gentle valley floor which was covered in Dwarf Pine bushes. There were signs of goats everywhere including the pungent smell but I did not see any. Behind me there was a great view across the main Ahrntal valley with the the clear morning sun illuminating the  mountains on the other side. I could see south from here and there was a range of mountains in the distance which I think were the Dolomites, and I recognized the great whale back of Marmolada with its north facing glaciers. There were just a few distant clouds in the sky, but otherwise it was a lovely day with clear morning air. 

After a two and a half hour climb the path reached Keilbachmoos, a meadow of renowned beauty in a steep sided cirque with some glaciers on the ring of peaks surrounding it. I am sure the meadow was once a lake, now filled with boulders, gravel and sediment. It was covered in a smooth green drift of grasses which were so uniform in colour it could have been green velvet from a snooker table. Across this meandered the small crystal clear stream. A ring of cliffs encircled the meadow down which a few plumes of water cascaded. At the top of the cliffs were open grass and boulder slopes which extended up to the bare rocky grey mountains and their snow fields and glaciers. I can see why on a day like this it has a fabled reputation. The view down the valley was also stunning with the stream disappearing down through the dwarf pine to begin its adventurous journey to the Adriatic through the ridges of peaks to the south. 

It was only 0800 so I lingered here a bit enjoying the calm and warmth of the fabled meadow. There was no chink in the ramparts which formed the cliffs around the meadow so the route went up the the slopes to the east side before the cliffs started. The path was non-existent but there were painted markings on the stones. I think very few people come this way, perhaps 25 each year. The path was strewn with boulders often with turf between, and this was covered in wildflowers. The route climbed well above the top of the ring of cliffs on the steep slopes until it got to the base of the rocky mountains. It then headed north keeping well above the cliffs below as it hugged the base of the mountains. It took nearly an hour to finally climb out of this giant funnel and reach the higher valley beyond it which was filled with moraine. The whole time I was climbing round the top of the cliffs the meadow below was vibrant in the morning sun and beyond it rose the magnificent Kielbachspitze, 3034m which looked much bigger than its 3034 metres due to the small glaciers and snowfields on its steep grey rocky flanks.

For the next hour and a half the well marked route for the non-existent path threaded a careful route up ridges and gullies in the moraine left by the long vanished glacier. It was a carefully planned route as it avoided the direct line which would have gone through large boulders and instead kept to areas where a lot of smaller stones, cobbles even, and gravel was deposited. The walking was much easier in this terrain. Occasionally there was no option and the marked route had to cross areas with vast boulders to link up easier sections. The boulders were large and I spent my whole time on the top ridges and spines of them hoping from one spike to another. A misjudged step would have meant at least a metre tumble into the gaps between them which would have at least done some minor damage. I was lucky it was dry and the soles of my boots were sticky. I moved at less than a kilometre an hour. 

The boulders got worse as I neared the pass at the crest of the main Zillertal ridge. Some of the boulders were new having peeled off from the crest and tumbled down the slabs of the arete I was going up. I had to tread very carefully here. Soon I reached the final shallow slopes up abrasive bare rock and clambered up to the ridge where the view down into the cirque on the other side appeared at once. I had to go along the crest of the ridge a bit and noticed how it was peeling apart as the winter ice forced the stacked fissured rock apart until some would spill down on one or other side. After 200-300 metres it was easier to go down newly shed rock slabs for 5 minutes to reach the first snowfield. 

The marked route seemed to shun the snowfields but I liked to keep to them. I put on my gaiters and then started going down the shallow snow trying to link the fields up. Between the fields was smooth bare rock which was dry and grippy so I just sauntered down it to get to the next snowfield. At the bottom they got a bit steeper but it was a concave slope so I would come to no harm if I slipped other than wet legs and shorts before I came to a natural stop. After 20 minutes of this fun I finally linked up with the sensible marked route. I followed this route down to the shallow lakes in the bottom of the cirque in an unnecessarily convoluted way. To my east was Wollbachspitze, 3209m. Its shattered ridges looked steep and fragile and I am glad I was not going near it. It had the sad remnants of what once must have been a magnificent glacier which ended in the lake I was going to. Now it ended 500 metres from the lake high up on rock slabs where it would wither and die. 

From the silty lake the marked route now became much more visible underfoot as some of the path was roughly constructed. It also kept to the gravel and cobbles areas and avoided the large boulders. It zig-zagged down from the lake for perhaps half an hour across rocky areas full of marmots. However it kept to the easier terrain so the going was much faster with at least two kilometres per hour. Kasseler Hutte was sited under a prow which protected it from any avalanche and I did not really see it until I was 50 metres away. The Zillertal is a huge massif with a high ridge in the south and the deep Zillertal valley in the north. However some 6-7 massive ridges with jagged peaks stretch north from the main ridge towards the main valley where they abruptly descend. Between these 6-7 main ridges are 6-7 valleys and Kasseler Hutte lies at the end of one of these, called Stillupgrund. On the other side of this side valley was a jagged ridge with the pass over to the next cabin, Greizer Hutte,  and at the head of the valley was the heavily glaciated Grosser Lother. Kasselerhutte had a great view of this mountain. 

The hut was built some 120 years ago by an alpine “Section” in Germany. Back then Germany and Austria were made up of individual provinces and cities and each area had an outdoor or alpine club called a Section. These Sections raised money to build local clubs and also a hut in the alps where the eager could go and pit their skills in the high mountains. The huts are still supported by these cities and the umbrella organisation of the DAV. Nearly all still bear their name which is why there are so many Austrian huts named after German cities. Kasseler Hutte is still the hut of the city of Kassel for its Section members to use. The Sections rent their huts out to caterers in the tourist months and the leaseholder pays a rent and passes on the bed fees, but keeps the money for the food and drink. Often the German huts are rented out to Germans who are the caterers, as was the case here and they employed further Germans and a Nepali.

The hut was quite busy so I went onto the terrace. The hut warden pounced on me for a drink sale, so I ordered a skiwasser, a blackcurrant cordial in soda water. Then his girlfriend and business partner arrived to check me in. I was informed of the rules and then dispatched to bed 14 in dormitory 1. A lot of people in the hut were doing the Zillertal Hohenweg. A good  week’s circular walking tour from Mayrhofen which goes over 3 or 4 of the gigantic side ridges which emanate from the main Zillertal ridge. I would be doing the lion’s share of it over the next 4 days going clockwise. That evening I sat at a table with 5 Germans who were just finishing the anticlockwise version of it. They all went on an annual lads walking holiday each year with challenging hikes each day washed down with barrel of beer between them. They were a friendly, bright bunch and in high spirits as tomorrow they had an easy day to complete the tour.

Day 039. Kasseler Hutte to Greizer Hutte. 10 Km. 4.5 Hrs. 830 m up. 760m down. It was not a great night due to doors slamming in the wind all night but I managed 4 or 5 sleep periods. Breakfast was a perfunctory buffet, laid out with essentials only and all decanted out of catering packs onto serving trays like a scout camp canteen. The weather forecast said it would be good until midday and then it would rain. So I set off soon after 0700 hoping to do the expected 5 hours before the rain came. I was not too bothered about getting wet, but I was wary of thunder and lightning (Donner und Blitzen) and I wanted some visibility to take photos. 

The route today was quite simple, contour round the head of the valley to the opposite side, then climb 600 metres over a ridge and descend 600 metres on the farside to Greizlerhutte. The contour around the head of the Stillupgrund valley was great. The mist lingered in the valley just below the contour height of about 2200 metres. Above me were the small glaciers on the northside of Keilbachspitze and then the large glacier of Gross Loffler which disappeared up into the high cloud. The sun however broke through frequently and it was warm and pleasant. The were quite a few streams to cross and only one had a bridge. All the streams were small enough at the moment to cross hoping from boulder to boulder, but it would not take much for them to become impassable and getting swept downstream cascading across steep slabs or ravines would be fatal. In one crossing the swollen stream had recently ripped a steep sided cleft in the moraine debris and it was difficult to find a route in the newly exposed rubble but enough people had been over since the damage to mark a faint route. 

Towards the end of this section and after the streams from the glaciers the mountainside became very steep and it descended slightly to cross some steep slabs. Here the path looked like it had been hacked into the rock. This was probably done by members of the Kasseler Section 100 years ago. There were cables for a good 150 or 200 metres here. At the most exposed section there were even iron posts drilled into the rock on the outside of the path and then these were linked by cables to form a bannister. By now the mist had burnt off from the valley to reveal a classic U shaped valley formed by a huge long-vanished glacier. It was straight from a geography textbook.

After the cables the climb started and this was perhaps the nicest part of the day. It was pretty much 600 metres up a mixed hillside of small boulder and turf. The turf was covered in wildflowers, especially the bright all yellow daisies which I think is Arnica, and also extensive drifts of the pale blue alpine forget me not. There were a few marmots about to enliven the climb. My legs feel quite tireless now as long as I don’t go too quickly and I sauntered up the entire slope in one go pausing just for photos. Towards the top there was a large snowfield which I opted to go on instead as I could see 2 young Belgiums struggling through a gnarly area of huge boulders where the path went. The pass, called Lapenscharte at 2701m, was a cleft really in the ridgeline and when I reached it the wind nearly took my hat off. 

The view on the other side was even better than it had been at Kasseler Hutte. I now peered down into another of the great U shaped Zillertal side valleys. This one was called Floitengrund and it too had the high peaks of the main Zillertal ridge at its head. Most impressive were the unseen peaks of Floitenspitze and Schwarzenstein, both 3200m ish mountains, whose summits were in the cloud. There was still a large, crevassed and active glacier coming down Schwarzenstein and crossing this alone would have been very foolhardy. I could see tomorrow’s climb up over the Morchnerscarte across the valley and it looked more demanding than today’s pleasant climb. 

I descended 20 metres to get out of the wind and found a flat sunny stone to have my bread and cheese rolls on which I still had from Steinhaus. As I ate them I noticed 2 female Ibex on top of a vast boulder. They were grazing the grass on it about 150 metres away. Then they both sat down and enjoyed the sun on top of their citadel. I took photos but they were too far away to get anything good. The descent down from Lapenscarte was about 500 metres but it was reasonably easy and the views were invigorating. The path zig-zagged down a steep grassy slope and had embedded itself into the turf forming a bit of a trough. I went past the Ibex and continued down for perhaps 20 minutes until I saw Greizlerhutte perched on a slope with the backdrop of glaciers behind it. The sky was totally covered in clouds now and much of it was dark and mist was welling up the valley. The fine weather was about to break. The final kilometre was a slow traverse across a boulder field. However there was an impressive rough pavement laid between the boulders which must have taken some effort to complete, manoeuvring huge slabs into place. Just before I reached the hut the rising mist from the valley enveloped me. I passed a small shed just before the Greizerhutte and it looked like goats were kept here. 50 metres later I reached the hut. 

There were about 10 beautiful brown goats milling about the hut with a few people sitting stroking them. Judging from the boots and ice axes they were mountaineers doing one of the bigger peaks or crossing glaciers. The hut warden was local from Mayrhofen and he owned the goats. He and his wife ran the hut and straight away I could see it was much more relaxed. He told me to take a bed in dormitory 17. I was the first so I bagged the mattress next to the window so I could keep it open tonight. A bit later Tim arrived. He lived in Munich and I had noticed him slowly catching me up all day. We went down and ordered some snacks. Tim it transpired was a vegan which was music to my ears as my vegetarian demands would pale into the background. Soon everybody who was at Kasselerhutte last night arrived and us 15 odd hikers mingled with the climbers in the dining room. I sat and wrote the blog until 1600 hoping for a good ambience come the evening. By now the rain had arrived and it was miserable outside with some hailstones mixed in with the rain. 

Slowly the dining room filled up with groups doing the Zillertal High Route and groups hoping to go up Gross Loffler tomorrow, with about 20 of each. Tim joined me and then two other Germans, Bernard and Christian, joined Tim. All three were instantly likeable and spoke great English, which they kindly did. We ate together and then had a few drinks together afterwards. The atmosphere in the hut was becoming a bit like an rural British pub mid evening with conservations getting louder and more raucous as they competed with laughter from neighbouring tables. The ambience was fantastic. The hut warden’s wife was plying everybody with drink and swooped on a table as soon as the glasses were near empty. She was carrying 4 pints in each hand sometimes to the bigger, thirstier tables while the warden was pouring them. For them it must have been a great night because the markup on drinks in the huts is about 300%.  At 2000 the rain seemed to stop and the mist broke up. Everybody piled outside to see the evening light on the surrounding peaks after the poor weather of the afternoon. The late sun and lingering mist made for some very atmospheric views.  The whole hut suddenly seemed to call it a day around 2100 and prepared for bed.

Day 40. Greizer Hutte to Berlinerhutte. 10 Km. 5.5 Hrs. 1060 m up. 1210m down. There were only 6 of us in the dormitory of 14 mattresses and I was right beside the window, which gave me some control over it. I made sure it stayed wide open all night. It was also a quiet collection of men and there was no snoring. At breakfast everybody remarked what a good night’s sleep they had. Breakfast was poor and given the amount of drink the warden had sold the night before to the 8 to 10 groups of hikers and climbers, probably well over 250 half-litres. It irked me a bit that breakfast was so mean.  However one look outside and all that was soon forgotten. 

It was very still without a breath of wind and the valley was filled with a smooth layer of undisturbed mist just below us. Above this mist it was crystal clear without a single cloud. Far above a jet passed and there was no condensation trail at all, always a sign of stable weather. I was the first to set off and headed down the trail under the hoist wires to the valley floor. I passed the goats en route just as I dropped into the mist. It was like slipping down into a bath full of foam and soon my world was a bubble 100 metres wide. It was a damp descent with dew drops on the grass and flowers. Down and down the path went, every step down a wasted effort as it all had to be regained imminently. As I neared the bottom the stream of the valley floor gleamed white through the mist which seemed to be thinning. Indeed soon I felt the warmth of the sun as it tried to break through.

By the time I got to the stream it was almost clear and I could see the mountains on three sides all around me like a giant amphitheatre. I crossed the larger clear stream on wooden beams and it was probably too wide to hop over without getting wet feet. Not far beyond it was a smaller stream which came down from the gully I would be going up. There had been a violent event in this gully with a surge of water, snow and boulders cascading down and ripping a deep trench in the moraine. It is alarming that these episodes are getting more common as global warming means the warmer air can hold more moisture, which means heavier rain. Some deluges are so heavy they create a torrent which carries all before it including 20 ton boulders. In the last 2-3 years such an event had happened here and the resulting trench was deep and steep sided and would have been difficult to cross were it not for previous hikers’ footsteps. 

Once across this loose ravine the 1000 metre climb started, and it looked like it would be without letup. Initially the path zig-zagged up for 15 minutes to the bottom of a ladder. It was just an aluminium ladder one could buy in a hardware store which was bolted and tied onto the bottom of a craggy outcrop. It was perhaps 5 metres high and steep but not vertical. It led up onto the side of a steep buttress. Here a footpath had been hacked into the side of the buttress. It was very well protected with cables with some of the more exposed sections even having wire handrails on the outside of the path too, attached to iron posts. Despite being steep this south facing slope was covered in flowers and with a huge variety of species. When I looked back down the slope it was a smooth slope of green vegetation with a sharp edge where the torrent had ripped away at previously stable rock and carried it down to the valley floor. The heavily cabled path then doubled back on itself and traversed up onto the crest of the buttress, again on a steep rocky cable-protected path, occasionally hacked into the rock face. It took half an hour from the valley floor to get onto the crest of the buttress. 

Once on the buttress the main task of the day lay before me as it soared up to a narrow distant cleft on the massive side ridge. Behind me I could see Greizler Hutte, slightly higher than me across the valley, which was clear of mist now. Above Griezler Hutte rose Gross Loffler mountain which I had virtually encircled over the last 2 days. Its flanks were covered in gleaming white snowfields which were slowly melting revealing the dark blue fissured glaciers underneath. These glaciers were still heavily crevassed and the few groups which set out from Greizlerhutte the same time to climb Gross Loffler were all carrying rope.

The climb up the buttress was sustained. The path zig-zagged hundreds of times with each one gaining just a few metres before switching back. It was not particularly steep, and as long as I took it at a steady pace it was not really that taxing. I just plodded up taking small steps for a couple of hours, frequently turning to take photographs of the scenes behind me under the perfect blue skies. As I climbed the flowers got shorter until the grasses started to peter out and the bare rocky earth started, which is where the more prostate alpines took over. Further down the buttress I could see Bernard and Christian slowly catching me and then Tim further down catching them. I reached the pass, Morchnerscharte, about 2800m, at the same time as a group of 3 came up from the other side and we chatted a bit each enjoying the new view which suddenly burst upon each of us.

The view I had all morning to the east was stunning, but the view I now had to the east was possibly even better. Way down in the valley, Zemmgrund, I could see the Berliner Hutte at the confluence of 3 higher glaciated valleys which fanned out to the south at the top of Zemmgrund. These three glaciated valleys all lead up to glaciers on the north side of the main Zillertal ridge. The glaciers spread out so much as they approached the ridge they just about merged with each other at the apex. If this was not enough there was another of the enormous crenellated side ridges on the opposite side of the Zemmgrund valley and it too was covered in glaciers. It looked very similar to the one I was standing on. I could just figure out the chink in its ramparts where I would climb over it tomorrow. And all this under a perfect blue sky with just the odd cloud now. I must say the Zillertal range is delivering well above expectations. 

The descent was nice. There was a small steeper section near the top which has some superfluous cables beside it. It led down to a large shallow bowl which was full of smaller boulders, however the path through these boulders was easy and it was shallow as it followed easy sweeping curves down past very small tarns and rivulets. The landscape was quite barren here and were it not for the trickles from the snowfields one might think it arid. However, the further I descended the more grassy it got. The trickles merged into small streams which spread out and flowed across the mountainside in wide shallow flows across small stones. At the side of the streams were moses and the white flashes of clumps of glacier buttercup. Still further down there was the clink of sheep bells, much higher pitch than their bovine counterparts, as a small herds of them grazed the hillside.

The path then got to a line of crags, like an escarpment at the bottom of which was Schwarzenzee, a deep blue grey lake with a fringe of light brown sandy shallows. I could see people sunbathing on one of the beaches but no one swimming. The path descended steeply to the lake and then followed its southern shore over moraine knolls. I was not tempted to stop and swim, as I had the bit between my teeth and could imagine the comforts which would be laid out before me soon. The excellent easy path continued down into the easternmost of the three glaciated valleys which met at the Berlinerhutte. A huge fan of bare light grey rock rose up from the green valley floor where I could see horses grazing. Above this band of smooth bare rock was the crescent of glacier descending from the peaks. Some 20 minutes later I was arriving at the very large and grand Berliner Hutte which was built by the Berlin Section of outdoor enthusiasts in 1888. Being the capital of Germany at the time, one would expect this Hutte to be the grandest. 

I went in the front door and was astounded by the reception area. A huge wooden staircase rose up two stories with the plush grandeur of an aristocratic palace. There was no about so I went into the dining room. It was magnificent and huge. 15 metres wide and maybe 40 long with a row of tall windows on the south side. Apart from the windows it was completely panelled in a pine with a beautiful golden hew. It was also very high, perhaps 6 metres and the panels went all the way up. To cap it all 4 large chandeliers hung from the ceiling. It could have been from a Hapsburg palace or the foyer of the grand opera hall in Vienna. It was empty as everyone was sitting in the sun outside. I had had enough sun so I sat alone in this huge sumptuous dining room and had a lunch of 3 different flavoured dumplings. 

After lunch I checked in at the reception in the grand entrance hall. The lady offered me a dormitory room for 20 euros or a single bed room for 25. I took the latter and found it in the extension, which I think was also 100 years old, up on the top floor. It was a compact bijou room with a single pine bed, a wooden washstand which could double as a desk and a wooden chair. The room was completely lined with rich golden pine which gave it a comforting wooden smell. It also had a powerpoint to charge gadgets. It also pleased me that I had a small south facing window to dry clothes by but when I looked through the window I was delighted to see it looked right up the glacier to the peaks on the main Zillertal ridge. Some would find it frugal but it was perfect for me. I went to the men’s washroom and discovered there was hot water so I washed as much as I could over the sink without getting naked and then washed my hiking clothes and hung them in my window.

By mid afternoon I was done so I went into the sumptuous dining room and started to write the blog. It was a superb setting and I felt quite privileged just to sit in a corner and type away. It remained quiet as it was still lovely weather outside and most people sat on the terrace. Bernard and Christian came down and we chatted a bit before they went out to sit in the sun. They were a witty pair and I enjoyed their easy company. Tim came along later and we discussed the fabulous day. We both ordered drinks and he settled down at the table and read while I typed. It was great having Tim there to explain that I was vegetarian and advise me on the menu. It seems most of the huts now would do 8 dishes with 4 meat, 3 vegetarian and vegan. Tim ordered the lentil stew which was vegan and it sounded good so I followed. It was good, as was the salad buffet with which I loaded my plate so much I was trying to hide it from the staff. After the meal Tim and I went out to join Christian and Bernard who were chatting with the hostess of the hut, a young German girl. We chatted until the higher peaks glowed slightly orange with a soft alpenglow and the temperature dropped. The Zillertal and the weather were combining to make this a great section, but having the company of Tim and the Christian/Bernard team doing the same stages was the icing on the cake for me. Especially as they sacrificed their own easy going conservation in German to switch to English when I was around.

Day 41. Berlinerhütte to Furtschaglhaus. 8 Km. 5.5 Hrs. 1090 m up. 890m down. I slept very well in the cosy room in my old cot style pine bed. When I got down for breakfast at about 0700 I was delighted to see it was a buffet. There were huge bowls of oaty cereals, yoghurts and fruit salad to layer up in my pudding bowl, and then nutty homemade bread with butter from a local alm, cheeses and jams, and good coffee. Tim joined me soon afterwards and then Bernard and Christian joined us, with Christian already in fine form with his jokes and perceptions. Even though it was just 0700 and we were over 2000 metres there were many people having breakfast outside on the terrace, which was just being blessed with the first sun. We chose the magnificent dining room. 

After breakfast it was time to part company. Bernard and Christian were heading down to Mayrhofen and the end of their hike while Tim and Myself would continue on to Furtschaglhaus over another one of Zillertals side ridges, where there was a weak spot in the otherwise inaccessible ramparts. It was sad to see Bernard and Christian go. I think I could have hiked to Monaco with them. As I left a couple of farmers were herding up a flock of sheep so they could graze the high alpine pastures. One was sick and a farmer was carrying it up over his shoulders. 

I crossed the bridge over one of the 3 glacial streams which met here and ran straight into 3 piglets who were marauding through the boulders and shrubs. They made a beeline for me and one was trying to eat a walking pole. Distracted by the piglets I missed the turning and by the time I realised I had to cut across 200 metres of shrubby boulder-strewn moraine to get to the right path and a bridge over the second of the 3 glacial streams. The marked path now contoured around the boulder-strewn hillside where small willows and dwarf alders were thriving, to reach the third bridge. All 3 bridges were two wooden beams bolted together, with one end tethered with wire to the rock so in a violent torrent they would swing parallel to the flow and could hopefully be manhandled into place again by 5 men. 

Once over the third bridge the path traversed up the end of the lateral moraine to gain its crest, which the path followed up. On one side was a small valley between the moraine ridge and the mountainside. On large glaciers, especially in the Himalayas, this valley can be a magical place with a narrow grassy meadow. On the otherside was a gaping hole left by the retreated glacier, which would have filled this void perhaps as little as 200 years ago. On the far side of this void across the boulder strewn depression was the other lateral moraine. The sides of the moraine facing each other are usually steep inhospitable places full of boulders embedded in gravel which tumble out sometimes in heavy rains.

After half an hour the crest of the lateral moraine came to an end in crags and the path climbed up onto the mountainside of pleasant turf and boulders and covered in flowers. It was a lovely climb up reasonably gentle zig-zags for a hour. The latter part of the climb was beneath a face of steep cliffs which formed part of the east ridge of Schonbichler Horn, 3134m, the mountain the path was aiming for. As I climbed under this face an eagle soared over the top of the cliffs and then found a thermal and started to circle in it climbing steeply with the skill which would make most paragliders envious. It rose so steeply it quickly reached cloudbase, which was at the highest peaks of 3400m and then used the height to soar off to the west and out of sight.

Just when I was expecting to continue up the grassy slopes beneath the cliffs the path doubled back and went up a rake, or sloping shelf, along a fault line to the top of the cliffs. It was between a metre and 3 metres wide as it steeply sloped up and after 10 minutes had reached the flatter crest of the ridge. This climb up the rake was protected by cables. Once on the crest of the main ridge it was an easy walk all the way up across boulders which had been manhandled into a path. To my south were the pretty much a continuous series of glaciers which started at the main Zillertal ridge and then flowed down for at least a kilometre, with many areas of large crevasses, and even small icefalls until then thinned out into snouts of grey ice, smeared over the smooth rock plates far below me. The glacier adjacent to the ridge I was going up was called Waxeggkies. It was very impressive especially with the backdrop of the 3400m peaks behind it which were clear again. The path continued up the ridge all the way to the bottom of a shattered arete, which was reasonably steep but quite wide. 

I could see people coming down the arete using the cables. It was much easier going up facing the mountain and I seldom used the cables to haul myself up. The way the mountain had exfoliated the slabs on its surface here meant there were many metre high pillars of rock fragments sticking out from the ridge. It was if I was a small beetle crawling up the back of a hedgehog and if you slipped it would not be for long. It only took 15 odd minutes to climb this arete and reach the pass, called Schonblichersharte, at about 3100m. The view here was stunning but I knew it was only a few minutes to Schonblicher Horn summit, 3134m where the view would be even better. I clambered up quickly and met a couple having their picnic on top.

The view was indeed spectacular with a number of dark threatening peaks to the south with the glaciated peak of Grosser Moseler over topping them all. Behind me was the Berliner Hutte in the valley of Zemmgrund and in front of me was the Furtschaglhaus cabin in the valley of Schlegeisgrund. Beyond this valley was yet another side ridge descending from the main Zillertal ridge which at that point was crowned by Hochfeiler, 3509m, and the highest point in the whole area. There was a crescent of large glaciers between me and Hochfeiler some 5 kilometres away. The other two went and I lingered here for another 15 minutes enthralled by the alpine setting. 

Eventually it was time to bide goodbye and start the long descent to the cabin. The descent was steep for perhaps 10 minutes down a gully of fractured stone embedded in soil and small shards of rock. It was easy to walk down unaided but there were cables here too, which would be essential if icy or maybe even wet and slippery. It soon led to a boulderfield where a path had been created by moving and aligning boulders. It was an easy walk initially and then it zig-zagged down a well worn grove on steeped ridges before more level sections. Although half the sky was covered in clouds it was warm and even hot where the sun shone through a gap. I passed a herd of brown sheep who were flaked out panting on a rock slab. They were so drowsy they just watched me saunter by 5 paces away, and just continued to pant.  In another half hour, and well over an hour from the pass, I was approaching the hut which lay near enough at the confluence of two glaciated valleys, each draining a fan of glaciers above them. It was as spectacular a location as the memorable Berliner Hutte. 

The hut was quite quiet and I was welcomed by a crew of young girls all of whom spoke good English. They had space in an 8 person room with 4 bunk beds. I was first so I took the lower one beside the window. I then had a cheese gnocchi dish and chatted to a German couple who had just been up Grosser Moseler and were now enjoying their victory beer. I then wrote for a couple of hours while the hut filled up and became very busy. 3 Americans took the other 3 lower beds in my room. They were going to spend the next 3 days walking the same path I had to Kasselerhutte, but in the other direction. In the course of the afternoon a few more climbers came down from the peaks, and many hikers and a few climbers came up from the valley. I was glad I already had an assured bed space by the window. 

I had spoken to 3 German women on the way up and they now arrived and joined me and then Tim arrived after enjoying pauses on the way up and down. One of the German ladies worked in Brussels for the European Union as an advisor from the Green party on food politics. When the meal came she was the only one who had meat, with the other four of us having the vegan lentil and rice curry. They were also a very well educated and bright bunch and easy to talk to as they made great effort to speak in English for me. After supper I went over to the Americans as I was sure it would be interesting to chat to them. After a few minutes I wished I was back with the bright Germans, as the Americans started to mumble about their previous jobs and life in Utah. At one stage they spent about 20 minutes trying to convince me why the “fifth wheel” was preferable to the “bumper hook” for towing RV trailers. I was saved by the weather forecast which said there would be rain and lightning from midday onwards tomorrow. This sent the Americans scrambling for an early night to get an dawn start tomorrow so they were not hanging onto the steel cables when the lightning arrived. The rest of the post dinner hikes and climbers followed soon afterwards.

Day 42. Furtschaglhaus to Olpererhutte. 10 Km. 3.5 Hrs. 620 m up. 560m down. It was a quiet night until 0200 when I was woken by a tremendous flash and then a crack of thunder which came straight through the open window. For the next half hour there was a lively thunderstorm with a flash of lightning at least every minute. Then I heard heavy rain blasting down outside but before long I went back to sleep. I heard the alarm clock of one of the Americans at 0500 but nothing more and I was surprised how quiet, organised and considerate they were. When I got up at 0700 it was overcast with plenty of blue sky. The Americans were hoping to get up and over the pass I came over yesterday by midday when more thunderstorms were predicted. Tim and I were the last down for breakfast. It was an OK breakfast but being a buffet made up for the small choice. I was packed and ready to go by 0800 so went off to find Tim, who was relaxing on the terrace with a coffee savouring the grandeur. He would be heading back to Munich this afternoon so it was his last breath of mountain air. It had been great travelling with him for the last 4 days. He was calm, kind and compassionate and very easy going company and being a vegan I felt we were part of the same church. I hope our paths cross again. 

The descent down from the hut was on an easy paved path where many of the stones had been laid to form rustic steps. Here and there iron rods were drilled through the stones to keep them in place and sometimes these had worked loose and protruded 10-15 cm. It would have been easy to trip on one or worse still get a lace loop over one. As I descended towards the valley floor the skies started to cloud over a bit more but surprisingly Hochfeiler, the highest point in the Zillertal, remained under blue sky. After a short hour I finally reached the valley floor where there was a track and after 4 days a mobile phone signal which inundated my email with spam to delete. 

The walk down the damned Schlegeisspeicher lake was perhaps 5 km and it was a very easy saunter. The lake was low so there was a contour mark of bare washed boulders, some 15 metres high, right round the lake which made it look very unnatural despite the small trees which surrounded it at the top end, as it was just at the treeline. The further down the lake I walked the bigger the trees got despite being the same height and this was just due to being further from the glacier and its chilling effects. At the end of the lake just before the large crescent shaped dam was a huge parking place and a couple of closed cafes. At one there were tables and benches so I spread the map out to look at the options, conscious of the mist forming in the valley and the totally overcast skies now. Rain was forecast for midday, in an hour and a half’s time, and it looked prompt. I decided against going to Geraer Hutte which would take another 4-5 hours and inevitably mean a soaking and probable lightening at the 3000m pass, which was 1200 metres above me. So instead I opted for the 600 metre climb to Olpererhutte which I could make before the weather broke. 

I was surprised at how busy it was here on this Monday morning with a poor forecast. There seemed to be a lot of Czech’s about so perhaps there was a holiday there. The climb up started from just after the parking place, but before the dam. There were many people coming down with small day packs and all were again Czech. Beside the path various tall plants with a similar inflorescence were thriving, including the Alpine blue-sow-thistle,Cicerbita alpina, and what the Germans call Grauer Alpendost, Adenostyles alliariae, for which I can’t find an English name. I saw a bullfinch in the bushes and I am sure it was hunting for insects as it was in alder and darting about. It surprised me as I thought they were seed eaters exclusively. Soon I caught some people going slowly up to the hut labouring under big rucksacks. I was conscious of the imminent rain and overtook them with huge strides unburdened with my 8-9 kg rucksack. The path went up the west side of a stream, and on the other side I could see a large copse of Arolla Pine going up the mountainside to about 2100m when the altitude got the better of them and they started to peter out.  Once I got to the top of the treeline sporadic raindrops started to fall, spreading out on the porous stone. I quickened my pace rather than put a jacket on. I overtook more and more people all of who seemed to be heading to Olpererhutte. Alarmingly there was also a string of people in front of me heading up. Soon the hut appeared perched on a prow in a shallow bowl of turf and boulders. Beyond it was the high mountain of Olperer, 3476m, the highest point in the Tuxer Alps. It was, however, lost in the cloud but I had seen it this morning. The rain drops continued to be light enough so my shirt did not get wet and for the last 10 minutes I surged up the track with my legs pumping and chest heaving. I just made it before the heavens opened at exactly midday. 

The only trouble was the hut was completely full. I was not going back and I was not going on so I dumped my stuff in the drying room and then went into the main dining hall of the relatively new and charmless hut. The staff said they should know by 1800 if there were any cancellations or not and if there were they could assign me a bed then. In the dining room I sat at a table which by coincidence had 3 Americans at it. I ate a dumpling dish then chatted with them as the dining room emptied and many day trippers headed out into the downpour to go back to their cars. The 3 Americans then all went off for a siesta so I got my keyboard out and started typing, swatting off the staff who occasionally pestered me to have a drink. The two young Belgium brothers with the huge rucksacks arrived as I typed. They were wet but still full of energy. They were brothers with one 19 and the other 16. They had been doing the same route as me in the Zillertal over the high passes, but camped every night. I have to applaud them for their tenacity.  After a few hours the rain stopped and the mountains of the Zillertal range to the south started to emerge from the mist. 

The 3 Americans also emerged again from their siesta and joined me at a table with a great view overlooking Grosser Moseler and Hochfeiler and the west end of the impressive Zillertal range. The 3 of them were doing the 7-8 day Zillertal Runde anti clockwise. I soon realised I was in the company of some rather special Americans. All three were professors in the social sciences, but were well versed on any topic from Alpine flowers to property development. It was a joy to listen to their eloquent and articulate thoughts all punctuated with lovely metaphors and witticisms. They more than made up for the pragmatic, but ultimately dull, Americans last night. I learnt more from them about the impasse and stalemate of American politics in two hours, than I could have done from reading considered and thoughtful newspaper articles for a month. It was a stream of high IQ consciousness, humour and intellectual fun. I could have listened to them all night but after the meal everybody seemed to go to bed early at about 2030. As I had no booking I was eventually shown a bed in the winter room. There were 4 free top bunks in a room of 8, with 4 Czechs already on the bottom. I noticed there was a small secluded dining area with a large table in another part of the cabin so I dragged a mattress out and put it on the table. The table top had an unblemished view across the valley to the Zillertal range. 

Day 43. Olperer Hutte to Steinach. 28 Km. 9 Hrs. 980 m up. 2300m down. I had a great sleep on the table with the most amazing view as soon as I opened my eyes through the window to the main Zillertal ridge in the clear morning light. I was the first at breakfast at 0630 and the 3 witty, eloquent professors joined soon afterwards. We were all aware of the weather forecast and wanted to be at our destination or indoors when heavy rain was expected at midday. I was disappointed to see the Americans go but not so much to see the back of Olperer Hutte. It was modern and quite charmless, busy with people just coming up for the night, and a large, but well behaved, school group which made the whole place feel like a youth hostel rather than an alpine hut. Perhaps the defining disappointment was the hut warden who seemed to be here just to run a business and maximise the profit, and her team of girls who were like surly teenagers with a shoulder shrug and “I dunno” to every question. They were all the same early 20’s age as the staff from Berliner and Furtschaglshaus, who were by contrast very welcoming and enthusiastic. 

Today’s route was over a pass and then down a valley to the Brenner Pass, a major and historic thoroughfare through the Alps and the geographical dividing line between the Eastern and Central Alps. Already an hour after getting up in perfect weather some low cloud was starting to form over the main 3000+ metre tops and the odd bubble of mist was starting to billow up in the valley below. I set off and contoured south around the bowl in which the Olperer Hutte was sited on a good path through boulders and turf. Small clear streams came splashing down the hillside from Schrammerkopf, a prow on the south ridge of Olperer, 3478m, the highest point in the Tuxer Alps. The path continued south over a small ridge and then veered west dropping down a good 100 metres to reach a wild bowl called Unterschrammerkar, which was blessed with a couple of small tarns. Here the small path I was to take over Alpinscharte left the main path, which continued to the popular Pfitscherjoch, a pass over to Italy.  

By now the low cloud had obscured all the tops and the mist coming up the valley was enveloping everything below me. I fully expected the two to meet soon and plunge me into a bubble of grey dull light. The path was small and faint but it was well marked with red paint marks on boulders. I had to climb about 700 metres in all from the bottom of the bowl to the Alpinerscharte, so I measured my pace. There was quite a steep gully filled with snow which extended right down the mountain but the snow was soft and there was not enough incline to slip uncontrollably down it so I gingerly walked over it without getting my ice axe out. About half way up the path had to cross another ravine but this one had had a recent flooding event which had washed all the stone from it leaving fractured bare rock to negotiate for 15 metres. Someone had protected it with climbing rope anchored at each end with belay fixings drilled into the rock. It was not necessary now but in icy conditions or when the rivulet was a torrent it would have been essential. Once over this hazard the path veered to the west again and climbed the rocks and boulders in comfortable zig-zags all the way to the pass. The mist had completely enveloped me now and I was in a world of my own thinking this must be a seldom used path when a couple appeared like two yetis from the mist. I chatted with them and they said how nice Geraerhutte where they stayed was. Some 15 minutes later I was lost in my thoughts again when another couple appeared out of the mist like an apparition and I stopped again for a chat. As I neared the top the light got brighter and I hoped that it was just here, where the moist air was rising in the easterly breeze, which was misty. Right enough when I reached the Alpinerscharte, 2959m, 30 seconds later there was a clear view all the way down to the Valsertal valley on the west side and the Geraer Hutte was clearly visible just down the slope, some 500 metres below me.

The descent to the cabin was initially a bit steep and the path hugged the boulders, gravel and mud at the bottom to the cliffs on the north side of the couloir. There were some cables here and there but again they were unnecessary in these clement conditions. After half an hour I got to some old mine workings. The buildings had all been removed but the rusting twisted cable way was still there, visually polluting the cirque. On the south side of this cirque were the formidable walls and peaks above a nearly vanished glacier which led up to the mountain of Schrammer, 3410m. I could see the air to the west above the upper Valsertal valley become opaque and knew it was the expected rain. I rushed down the path with large strides in my shorts and shirt and just made it to the front door of the hut before the heavens opened. By the time I had removed my rucksack and gone into the dining room it was pouring. 

The hut was indeed lovely inside. It was very cosy with the various nooks and crannies of the dining room reminding me of atmospheric snugs in a rural Irish pub. There was lots of historic paraphernalia adorning the old cabinets and sideboards and a selection of schnapps and grappas in old decanters left trustingly on one sideboard. Had the weather been good yesterday afternoon it would have been an obvious choice to come to this homely lodge instead of cutting the day short at the greedy and grumpy Olperer Hutte. The middle aged couple running the place were local and very helpful with advice of where to stay in St Judok saying there were only private options and that the shop had burnt down. I would be better going another 4 km to Steinach, a small town. I had soup, looked at some books and then realised that the rain was less intense and soon a light drizzle so prepared to set off again after 2 hours.

The journey down to the valley was relatively easy on the zig-zags of the good path. I met a few Dutch groups coming up all of who were independently doing the Peter Habeler Round hike of 4-6 days. The vegetation was dripping wet after the rain and the tall grasses and flowers beside the track were brushing my legs and soaking them. I passed a high alm with the smell of cattle, but none in sight and then plunged into the forest for the second half of the descent which delivered me to the valley floor, which was choked by boulders and gravel brought down by the stream. Once on the valley floor, in the improving weather with many patches of sun, it was a very easy stroll down an excellent track for 3 kilometres past cows, old wooden summer barns and meadows to reach the Touristenrast hutte at the end of the tarmac road. I stopped here for another soup to see me through the next 12km. It was all along good tracks and paths with little uphill so I knew it would only be 3 hours at the most. 

The sun was back out when I set off again strolling with long easy strides down the very quiet road. Each side of the flat lush valley was full of meadows and small barns. Occasionally there would be a farm or two and then more meadows. The going was so easy and quick I missed the turnoff after 2km to a track on the south side of the stream and had to continue down the empty tarmac road for another km until there was another foot bridge over the growing stream, which would be impossible to cross otherwise. Once on the south side of the stream it was a delight to walk along the forest track. Cows grazed each side of the track in the meadows and neat stacks of firewood were piled up in the forest sections. Occasionally there was an isolated farm and even a small hamlet on this side of the valley but on the other side were the larger hamlets and small village of Vals. The farms here were all house and barn under one enormous roof with a manure heap at the cattle end and balconies dripping with geraniums at the house end. It seemed like nearly every old farm, and certainly every hamlet had its own very small miniature chapel. Occasionally the path vanished across a meadow but it was easy to see where it appeared again a few hundred metres further on and make for it. After 5 km of this easy cultural track the path unexpectedly reached a busy railway line with large lorries on wagons being pulled up and down the Brenner Pass. I went through an underpass and reached the small town of St Judok. 

I dare say I could have found accommodation here but there was no shop and little else. I was 4 days ahead of schedule and my booked accommodation and needed to take a couple of days off so Steinach seemed the better option. Hence I continued through St Judok to pass under the railway line again, which had made a big loop around the town. I now found the track to the east of the railway line and followed it for 2-3 km through forest and meadow to reach the southernmost houses of Steinach. For much of this walk I passed above some very ugly heavy industry factories far below on the valley floor, notably a heavy steel works and a cement plant which looked very out of place. I don’t know how they can compete with similar plants on the industrial plains below, but perhaps they are subsidised to keep some employment at Steinach. Just before reaching Steinach I passed a young Czech walking in sandals at tremendous pace. We stopped and chatted for a few minutes. He was walking to Rome on what he called the Via Roma for 2 months. 

Steinach was a bit of a dissapointment really. There were lots of newer blocks of housing 3-4 stories high which looked quite perfunctory and perhaps housed the families who worked at the industrial plants I had seen. As I approached the drawn out centre of the town there seemed to be very little charm and I only found two hotels and neither of these were quaint or cheap. I took the cheaper, the Wildermann, as it had a worn out room but at least with a balcony. It was after 2000 by the time I went down for a bowl of garlic spaghetti and a topfenstrudel and when I returned to my room I was just ready to sleep. 

Steinach. 2 Rest Days. 0 Km. 0 Hrs. 0m up. 0m down. I was well behind with both the blog and other office paperwork. I was also 4 days ahead of my schedule and the various hut bookings I had made. In the mountain cabins it did not matter too much, but as I leave Austria for Italy it will matter a bit more, and then it will matter significantly when I get into Switzerland during the height of the holiday period in late July. So it seemed a no-brainer to spend a couple of days in Steinach catching up with digital duties and reducing my spare days from 4 to 2. 

Having checked into the Wildermann Hotel the previous evening and gone straight to bed after dinner I still had to do all my office chores and other jobs. The first thing was to have a good scrub in the shower and wash my growing bag of laundry. It all took an hour before I was transformed from a stinking feral to a pampered metrosexual smelling of soap. All my washing was hanging up on the balcony in the warm breeze, leaving me with very little to wear other than my waterproofs, until it dried.

I then sat at the desk in the room occasionally distracted to see how the clothes were drying for the next 6 hours. By that time my eyes were tired and red as if I had myxomatosis. However, I had broken the back of the list of things I needed to do so went for a wander in town. I realised that I had been a bit harsh in my initial assessment of Steinach. While it did lack the cuckoo clock charm of a touristy Alpine Resort it did have some honesty. Yes there were some dainty cafes and a bakery, but there was also a hardware store, a tobacconist, an old folks home, a few shops selling cheap clothing from China, and a busy astro turf football field. The industries in the Wipptal valley here kept people down to earth, and there were folk chatting on all street corners as they bumped into each other. It was a friendly town. 

I wandered up the main street on the west of the river and then looped back down the quiet road on the east of the river where there was the small train and bus station. There was a small supermarket at the north end of the town and another at the south end. Here and there were large farms which the town had encroached onto and they still smell of manure, holding out against the urban spread. On the way back I went into the large church with its twin towers. I think the church could have sat at least 400 people on its pews. I returned to the hotel two hours later with my eyes rested and did a bit more work before supper and an early bed. 

The second day off was pretty much a repeat of the first except I finished everything I needed to do by early afternoon. I then treated myself to a siesta as the rain had come on outside. By mid afternoon it had cleared up so I sauntered round town with a relaxed swagger knowing there was nothing I had to do. I was completely free of obligation. I could not spend another day here without a purpose, otherwise I would get bored, but I relished the opportunity to relax on this lazy afternoon. 

My next section would be a 4-5 day hike through the Stubai Alps. I had been hiking here before, but my route now was slightly different and involved crossing a glacier and dropping down the south side of it into Italy which I was looking forward to. I had really enjoyed my 6 day hike through the Zillertal. It was exactly the alpine tonic I was looking for after the tame bypass of the Hohe Tauern. During my hike through the Zillertal I was blessed with mostly good weather, full-hearted walks in fantastic scenery and with good company in Tim, Christian and Bernard, and not least the 3 American professors.  

 

Section 05.  78 km. 36 Hours. 6360m up. 6370m down.

Section 05.  Zillertal. 30 June to 07 July 2022.

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February 9, 2022

Day 029. Bad Gastein to Naturfreude Neubau. 17 Km. 7 Hrs. 1400m up. 310m down.  It seems I might have wandered through the old salubrious part of Bad Gastien which was becoming rather faded to the worst bit of it around the railway station. However, should I have walked on for another 10 minutes  yesterday,  I would have been on the southern outskirts on the flat pastoral valley floor which was much nicer and I am sure I could have found somewhere to stay here. I followed the gravel track on the west side of the large stream up the valley floor heading SW for nearly an hour until I got to Bockstein. This looked like a very nice place with lots of historical connections. Given the elaborate nature of some of the buildings and the round church on a knoll I would guess this is where the Hapsburgs would have based themselves. 

As I walked up the track beyond Bockstein I chatted with an older Austrian couple. It seems a lot of people come to Bad Gastein to cure their range of ailments with Radontherapie. I had seen signs for places offering Radontherapie everywhere including the infirmary masquerading as a hotel where I stayed last night. Even here in the forest there were adverts with healthy couples in white robes reclining on slatted boards in cave where natural radon radiation occurred. There was a whole industry here based on well marketed conjecture to naive people who would grasp at anything to help with their ailments. 

After passing an outdoor resturant at Astenalmen, which you could park near once you had finished your hard mornings Radontherapie,  the route continued into a gorge where the large stream flowed. The gorge was warm but as I slogged up the track it seemed to become very hot with the sun beating down onto the pale grey rockwalls and reflecting down to the bottom. It was an easy route apart from the warmth and there were plently of mountain bikers cautiously coming down its sometimes steep gravel surface. About half way up I passed a good waterfall in the gorge by a bridge built by Russian POW’s in the First World War. It took another hot hour from the bridge to climb out the top end of the gorge just above the wispy white mares tail of the Schelerfall waterfall. 

The gorge opened up into a wide stretch in the valley floor with a huge carpark, a restaurant called Valeriehaus, and a dormant ski lift, all in an area called Sportgastein. I was parched so had a drink at Valeriehaus which was rammed full of Sunday drivers and then escaped to the west up a small valley with a waterfall at the end of it. The clouds had begun to gather now so it was a bit cooler but the afternoon’s work lay before me with a view up the steep headwall of the valley and just to the side of the magnificent cascading waterfall. The path zig-zagged up here for well over an hour, often steeply and frequently with cables or even hand rails for protection. It led me to lovely grassy slopes, interspersed with bowls full of melting snowfields, which fed the cascade. These grassy slopes were a very pleasant interlude after furnace of the gorge and the steep climb up the headwall of the valley below. The slopes led up to the ridge where the Niedersachenhaus cabin sat right on the apex. It was closed as I knew it would be.

I could now see the days’s destination below at Naturfreunde Neubau, a cabin which lay some 300 metres lower than me. There was a small path which sidled across the hillside descending slightly for 2 km. There were some slightly exposed buttresses to clamber over and 5 reasonably steep, 30 degree snowfields to cross over with gullys full of a strip of snow which descended in a broken streak a few hundred meters down the mountain. A slip here would not have been fatal but probably very sore, so I got my ice axe out to cross them. As I approached the hut I thought it was closed but luckily the door was not locked and I was soon inside. 

There were 2 Belgiums and a Dane already there. They were doing the walk from Salzburg to Trieste crossing over the alps for about month. I then learnt than one of the young Belgiums was actually walking on of the E routes from Belgium all the way to Greece for 8 months. After Trieste he would head down the Via Dinarica of the West Balkans to Albania. I had heard much good of the Via Dinarica, a 1500 odd km hiking route down the length of the limestone rich Dinaric Alps. I chatted with them all evening as we moved from the bar to the dining table. They were a very easy bunch to chat to and very bright, alert and easy going. I did not bother with the blog as I knew tomorrow would be a short day and could do 2 days worth then.

Day 030. Naturfreude Neubau to Zittelhaus. 4 Km. 3 Hrs. 890m up. 20m down. The forecast said rain and possible thunder in the early afternoon so the 4 of us had an early breakfast. It was a parsimonious breakfast with a small basket of bread, cheese and jams. It cant cost much for a mountain lodge to go a bit further and provide more, rather than saving a few cents and leaving the customers feeling short changed. The miserly theme was continued when I paid. I had already made a deposit of 10 Euro each for 2 of us. However because Fiona was ‘kranken’ and could not come 10 Euro was forfeited. “Your vife did not come so 10 Euros is for me” Technically I suppose she was right but in the 5 other huts where this had happened they reduced the bill by 20, and not 10. I looked her in the eye and smiled. Then I said goodbye to the Belgiums and the Dane switched on my tracker and headed up to Zittelhaus cabin which I could see on top of the Hoher Sonnblick mountain nearly 1000 meters above me.

The first quarter of the climb was a delight as the path wove up between boulder fields on grassy patches. The view to the north down the Raurisertal valley was long as it almost disappeared into the haze. However far to the north I could see clouds forming where I was sure there were none before. To the south however it was a spectacular alpine view with many glaciated cirques below the jagged skyline of the east Hohe Tauern. It was only just after mid June and I was shocked to see so many patches of blue ice on the glaciers. I think the lack of snow, Foehn wind and warm weather meant the snowfields were perhaps 6 weeks ahead in the melting process than usual. 

The next quarter went into one of these bowls where 100 years ago there would have been a glacier, but now it was just a snow filled valley. For the first time I had the sense to put my gaiters on so I would not fill the rim of my boots with snow when I post holed. The snowfields alternated with rocky sections and where the two met I sometimes went through, and was thankful for the gaithers. I climbed up level with the bottom of the Goldbergkees glacier when I noticed a small cabin on the ridge above me. It was the Rojacherhutte and I had forgotten about it. I clambered up the boulders to get to it and then realized how tiny it was. It measured 6 by 4 metres. Downstairs the kitchen and dining room and bar was crammed into the only space while above in the attic there were 10 mattresses on two benches. There was a young hut warden who was still at university and was doing this as a summer job. I stopped and chatted with him for half an hour with him speaking fluent English. 

The next quarter was quite steep with the well marked route going up the ridge which quickly went from being a broad shoulder to a narrow arete with the steep, rocky north side of the mountain dropping off immeadiately while on the south side the increasingly steep remnants of the Goldbergkees glacier descended down to the main mass of the glacier. A lake was forming as the ice withdrew exposing the depression. Soon the arete  became steep and I had to clamber up the odd outcrop some of which were protected with cables. By now the sun had completely gone except towards the south and all the peaks had a layer of mist on them which was descending fast. 

The final quarter was all in the mist so I could not tell if they were exposed sections or not. I suspect there were, but I could only see 10-15 meters. The route went up frequent areas where iron bars or steps had been drilled into the rock to aid on scramble up the steepest bits. The arete was now very narrow and I was alarmed at how fragile it was. It would not take much to step carelessly on a boulder and tip it so it descended down the northside or rolled onto the snowfield to the south and out of sight. At one place there were steps on a large boulder which had detached itself after the steps were installed, crushing the steps. For the last half km I must have reached the top of the steep narrow spur and the path seemed to level off and the ridge became at least 10 meters wide. It was an easy saunter until the Zittelhaus cabin and the weather station suddenly appeared out of the fog just 15-20 metres in front of me. 

There was a nice Austrian couple already there and the manager and a Nepali waiter. The manager seemed a bit rough and I suppose many cabin managers go a bit feral in the summer season without social norms constraining them. I chatted with the Austrian couple until they left and then I wrote all afternoon. 3 other people turned up later, a pair of Austrian friends and a lone German who arrived after a 10 hour walk along the main Hohe Tauern ridge from Wallackhaus to the west. The Zittelhaus cabin was 100 years old and it was probably built initially to house the meteorologists who worked at the weather station next door which was also built 100 years ago. 

The Hoher Sonnblick weather station was built against all odds on top of the 3100 mountain. It must have been quite a feat to build the cable way to get everything up here. It then became an important observatory measuring climate, pollution, radiation and many other natural patterns. It has become nationally very important and is often quoted on the national weather forecasts. The wealth of data it has collected over the last 100 years now forms an important part of the scientific theory about climate change.  This mist did clear momentarily in the afternoon for 10 minutes to reveal a spectacular landscape before it enveloped us again and then the forecast drizzle arrived and kept up for the latter part of the afternoon.  

Before dinner one of the meteorologists came through from the Sonnblick Observatory next door and offered the 4 of us staying in the hut a guided tour. I understood very little of what he said but what I assumed earlier about it being a weather station totally undervalued it. It was a cutting edge, world leading, scientific monitoring station. It was built in 1886 and has contantly been up developed. In the last 25 years instruments have been placed all over the vicinity to measure anything and everything to do with climate. Monitors of the roof pick up everything else. All this data goes into banks of computers and onto display screens. Sonnblick is one of the 30 something networked weather stations around the world which mointor aerosols, radiation from power plants, airborne insecticide particles etc. It is instrumental in providing data to politicians to address Ozone layer issues, or levels of radiation from Fukishima. It was a fascinating tour.

Day 031. Zittelhaus to Heiligenblut. 13 Km. 5 Hrs. 60m up. 1840m down. It was a beautiful day when we woke at for the 0600 breakfast for the 3 of us. The hut warden provided an truely excellent breakfast for 3, each one laid out on our own table with everything we could have wanted. The other two were going east and I was going west. However the German guy had come from the west yesterday, from Wallackhaus, along the main ridge for 10 hours and he was singing its praises and relative ease and was suggesting I try it, or at least do half of it and bail out to the south and Heiligenblut. It was very tempting and Hocharn, 3254m, looked magnificent in the morning sun. However rain was forecast for midday in 5 hours time and it would have been demanding with my 12-13 kg rucksack, so I dismissed the thought and opted for the original plan. 

We all left just after 0700 and I lingered at the Zittelhaus cabin beside the Sonnblick Observatory and took many photos before I headed down to the remnants of the glacier which were still covered in deep snowfields. The hut warden had pretty much said “follow the tracks”, but there were no visible tracks. The route was quite obvious though and once I was on the snowfield I kept high up towards the bottom of the buttress on which the hut and observatory sat, and then along the rocks at the bottom of the arete. Sometimes when a glacier pulls away from a steep rockface it leaves a gap called a bergschrund. But in this case the bottom of the rockface was not steep and much of the glacier sitting on top of it were static, isolated smears of ice which were slowly disappearing over the decades, and I could see boulder fields appearing between them. In a century perhaps marmots will live among these same boulders. 

About ½ a km from the cabin these snowfields on the ice patches reached a buttress and on the other side of the buttress the arete formed a razor thin saddle called Pilatusscharte, 2905m. Its south face plunged steeply into the ice which was much thicker. I was sure there would be a bergschrund here and veered out onto the glacier where there was also a post to mark a route. Just before I ventured onto the glacier proper I stopped to put my soft shell jacket and gore-tex waterproofs on and got my ice axe out, just incase there was an incident. 

I could just see another large pole a good half kilometre away so roughly headed towards that. There were perhaps 20 narrow crevasses to cross which were 20-30 cm wide and full of snow. They were more the crevasses you get when static ice settles and cracks, rather than when different parts of the glacier move at different speeds and a faster lower portion pulls away from a slower upper portion. The latter crevasses can be a few meters wide and about 30 meters deep. These large crevasses are dangerous, especially at this time of year when they could be invisible and covered by a thin snow bridge. The bridge could collapse as you go over it, leaving you wedged in a narrowing icey slot 25 meters down 3 seconds later. Although I was confident in the route and the nature of the crevasses I tip-toed over the cracks quickly and was thankful the snow was firm after a near frost last night.

It took about half an hour to cross the glacier and reach the newly exposed bare beige-coloured rock at the bottom. I was well to the east of the marked route but this left the glacier in a area of patchy snowfields and boulders where post holing in the snow was inevitable. Once on the path I followed down the old lateral moraine ridge which was deposited perhaps 250-150 years ago in the mini ice age when glaciers surged for 100 years before withdrawing again.

Pretty soon I noticed the first of the yellow patches of the Map Lichen, Rhizocarpon geographicum. This lichen grows very slowly at a rate of about 0.5mm a year. Knowing this and the time it takes for the lichen patch to initially colonize a surface after exposure, then glaciologists can determine how long it has been since the glacier retreated and exposed the rock.

The path continued down the moraine ridge for a good half hour before it came to a track. Before me I could see far down into the valley where Heiligenblut lay. I looked at the track zig-zagging backwards and forwards as it climbed up the valley with perhaps 30 hairpin bends. Then I looked at the map and saw there was path which cut across all of them and thought it was the quicker option. However it was steep and loose and zig-zagged a lot itself so after a careful half hour I abandoned it and followed the track which I could stride out down without considering where to delicately place my feet. I should have taken the track as soon as I came across it higher up.

The track zig-zagged down to the first of the larches and then entered the firs where there was a converted alm at Alter Pocher. It was now a  guesthouse with a large gold mining exhibition with a few working water wheels driving rock crushing hammers. There were perhaps 10 small cabins all with a theme on gold mining. At the bottom, below the water wheels, was a modest visitor centre and perhaps 20 children all panning crushed rock from the water wheel hammer. I walked through this 200 metre long exhibition and gleaned that the quartz-rich mountains around here had been mined for centuries and there was a rich mining history, in a more plucky pioneer artisanal way rather than modern industrial methods.

From here the track became a road and dropped quite steeply for a few hundred meters through the firs. I plodded down it with my walking pole tips sinking into the sun warmed soft bitumen where the road cracks had been repaired. A few cars passed in the half hour it took to reach the a T junction with the first of the old valley farms in a lovely hamlet called Wolkersdorf, which was slightly ruined by a bigger road passing through it. 

From Wolkersdorf the route followed a series of paths through old farm buildings for a good half hour. It was a fascinating walk looking at how all the ancient barns were being repaired and how old farming implements were used as decoration under the massive eaves. There was a lot of farming culture here and the locals were proud of it. Half way along this series of paths Grossglocker appeared and from this angle it looked like a slightly milder version of the Matterhorn as it towered above every thing and was covered in glaciers. Eventually I reached Heiligenblut and the guesthouse, The Trojerhof, I was booked into in two days time. There was no one about so I sat outside for 10 minutes while the very tall church tower clock rang out midday. 

Eventually I heard some sounds and went in. The young owner had just arrived from a mother and child event and greeted me in a dirndl. There was absolutely the minimum fuss about checking in at midday and I was given a large room with a balcony facing Grossglockner. Just then the forecast drizzle started and the mountains vanished under mist. An hour later I was washed, shaved and had all my washed clothes out on the large balcony with its line of geranium boxes. The balcony was sheltered by a huge eave, some 2 stories above me, which protruded 2 meters over the whole front facade of the building. 

Later I went into the small town centre just a few hundred metres away and had a few salads and a plate of cheesy dumplings for my lunch/supper. It was small and historic enough, and in magnificent surroundings, to maintain its charm.  However there was a mountain pass nearby over the Tauern Range at 2500 meters and the road up to it went up numerous hairpins on each side. So the town also had its fair share of lardarse middle aged bikers, mostly men with bellies or women with hefty bosoms. Both the bellies and the bosoms would have given the eaves on my Pension Trojerhof some competition. I was two days ahead of schedule and had been walking  every day for nearly 2 weeks now waiting for wet day to have a break. It is forecast to rain tomorrow and this would be the perfect place to watch it fall, either from my balcony or from under the awning of a coffee shop.

Heiligenblut Rest Day. 0 Km. 0 Hrs. 0m up. 0m down. Breakfast was at 0800 and I tried to have a long lie but still woke at 0530 with the daylight flooding into the room. After the great breakfast the Trojerhof provided I went upstairs again to write. However the early awakening and the large breakfast made me drowsy and I lay on the bed and suddenly it was midday. 

The forecast rain never materialized until mid afternoon and even then it was light drizzle. I had hoped for a real downpour to justify my day off and not feel too guilty. I walked into town and had a look around and had a snack and a coffee and then went back to the Trojerhof to finish all my digital duties. I also had to rearrange the next 3 places of accommodation, bringing them forward by a day and letting them know it was just one coming and not two. It was fairly straightforward with a few emails and an awkward phone call. By 1700 it was all done. 

I could not remain in the hotel room much longer with boredom starting to drag me down so I went for an hour and a half circular walk around the few hamlets which make up Heiligenblut (The Holy Blood). There were some farms but the vast majority of the scattered buildings seemed to either be private residences or tourist facilities, with a 50/50 split. Wherever I was the church was in view sitting proud on a spur looking over the valley in a protective paternal way. I returned via another cafe having a small snack in keeping with my lazy day. I had not really enjoyed my day off that much. It was a bit of a forced stop and I was bored quite quickly.

Day 032. Heiligenblut to Lucknerhaus. 19 Km. 7 Hrs. 1490m up. 830m down. The Trojerhof laid out a superb buffet breakfast as one would expect from a good guesthouse. However, it did not start until 0800 so after having my fill I did not set off until 0900 by which time the sun in Austria, being so far east for its time zone, was well up. I wandered back through the town and then down to the bridge over the Moll river at the town’s NW corner. It was a a nice town but I had seen it reasonably empty. I am sure the when it is busy it is a bit more chaotic with campervans, coach parties and motorcyclists, all milling around the main square looking for something to do, which would inevitably involve eating and looking at the church. Unfortunately the view up the valley was clear but Grossglockner itself was covered in cloud and I could just guess at it’s spectacular shape from here.  

From the bridge the road went up the west side of the river for a kilometer, in a very rural setting with meadows and farms between the forest of tall firs. Then it left the road and started to climb up a track. It was already 1000 now and the day was warm and I could feel myself starting to perspire in my newly laundered shirt. I passed a lovely waterfall, Gossnitzfall, which cascaded down the side of the valley for 20-30 metres into a clear plunge pool. The track now started to zig-zag up through the firs, climbing for a couple of hundred meters. I caught up with an older Austrian couple and passed much of the ascent chatting with them until our ways parted and I continued on through more sparse trees now, which were largely larch, to reach the meadows of Trogalm. There were cows here, lying in the grass chewing cud and endlessly swishing their tails to deter the flies to no avail. The cabin at the alm was however closed. Just beyond it was a bridge over a small stream which emerged from a deep valley called Leitertal.

I crossed the bridge and started to follow the stream on a meter wide path which I thought was a drove road to the pastures further up the Leirtal valley. It turned out it was both this and a path to a small dam and hydro intake. The path was occasionally hacked into the side of the mountain and there was a steep drop down to the river which a human, cow or sheep would tumble helplessly, which a goat would manage and a chamois would relish. There small fence posts with electric fence tape just to deter the animals going too close to the edge. The slope on which the path was hacked into was south facing and quite dry and houseleeks, saxifrage and other more unusual plants thrived here and made the walk interesting. Once I passed the small dam, which must have had an underground tunnel to funnel the water down to a turbine, the valley opened up. 

The first feature of this higher more open valley was the old summer farm at Leiteralm. It was mostly constructed from stone which formed the walls and a log roof which was covered in long wooden shingles. I think now it would be damp and inhospitable inside now. The flowers continued to flourish as I went up the valley with masses of veitches, both red and yellow, and thousands of buttercup species. In the stonier patches there were also a lot of Mountain Avens, Dryas octopetala. These Mountain Avens are a arctic and alpine plant which thrives in harsh conditions and even has a geological timeframe named after it, The Younger Dryas. The Younger Dryas occurred roughly 13,000 at the end of the Pleistocene epoch (multiple Ice Ages) to 11,500 years ago at the start of the Holocene (current warmer epoch). It was a reversal in the gradual warming of the earth due to a shift in ocean currents and it plunged the earth, especially the Northern Hemisphere, into a new mini ice age which allowed these plants to thrive for 1500 years. Hence this timeframe is named after them. 

As I continued up the valley huge grass covered slopes soared up each side until bare rocky mountains took over. On the north side of the valley they culminated in Schwerteck and Schwertkopf, two 3000m+ peaks which would have been significant mountains were they not the foothills of Grossglockner. From these steep mountains or the slightly lesser ones on the south side there had been some enourmous avalanches over winter and the stream ravine was still full of snow under which the stream flowed. Further up I reached two cabins,verdant pastures and plenty of cows at Ochsnerhutte. There must have been at least 100 cows here. Many were sitting on top of breezy knolls chewing cud with the wind keeping the flies at bay. This area was also teeming with marmots who had great pastures and soft earth to dig their burrows. The burrow entrances probably led down through the earth to the boulders underneath where the marmot’s chambers would be located. 

Just above Ochsnerhutte the path split with one branch continuing up this valley to Salmhutte and the other going up a side valley to the SW and on to Glorerhutte cabin. I had to take the later and it led me into a alpine Shangri-La which a beautiful open valley floor covered in short flowers and wetter areas and surrounded by high peaks. I saw a hiker coming towards me here and we stopped to chat. He was perhaps 65 and Austrian, called Frank. He was just finishing a 10 day hike called “Hoch und Heilig” (High and Holy) which started in the south and looped up to the Hohe Tauern before finishing at Heiligenblut. His English was understandable and he was very enthusiastic about his hike. Half an hour later I finished my near 1500 meter climb at the Glorer Hutte. 

The Glorer Hutte was on a saddle, almost on the divide between the Austrian regions of Karnten and Osttirol. The view down the other side was a bit obscured by the dull light in which everything was in the shade and a couple of lower ridges which blocked my view to the higher glaciated mountains beyond. I had been on the go for a good 5 hours so stopped here for a beetroot and horseradish dumpling and a cheese dumpling. Both were delicious but I am looking forward to a brief interlude into Italy in a few days time where I hope they have something else. 

The descent was unmemorable as the path went down some 400 meters across open grasses until it met a track which it followed down past numerous zig-zags and a couple of small alm cabins and cows for another 300 metres. At the bottom of this perhap 90-minute descent the larch trees appeared as I dropped into Kodnitztal valley. It was very deep with a huge rock face on the west side and I am sure one on the unseen east side too. The valley headed to Grossglockner and it seemed to be the main way up. When I neared the floor of the valley I could see a huge parking place and also the large Lucknerhaus, a alpine lodge and a bit more upmarket than a mountain hut, where I was booked in. 

Lucknerhaus was more of a hotel although there seemed to be a lot of people here celebrating an ascent of Grossglockner. It also had sunny terraces and parasol awnings for those who just wanted to park and eat. It did not feel anything like as authentic as Glorer Hutte and had I known it was this shallow and upmarket I would have spent the night up there. However it did have masses of hot water for a clothes wash and good wifi to post the blog, and I have saved myself a 90 minute 700 meter descent tomorrow. The meal was quite ordinary but the carnivores around me in the large busy dining room were wolfing down their schnitzels with gusto.

Day 033. Lucknerhaus to Matrei. 21 Km. 8 Hrs. 1080m up. 2000m down. When I woke at 0500 the sky was clear and there was a great view through my small bedroom window up the valley to Grossglockner. I will photograph that later I thought and went back to bed. When I got up for breakfast mist had descended over the entire valley and everything had vanished and there was to be no photo. It was a buffet breakfast and so I helped myself with some measure of revenge for the poor dinner and pocketed a couple of apples for lunch.

There were two ways to get to Kals. One is down the valley along a path and track beside the road which was certainly quicker but not as scenic and the other was over the southern spur of Figerhorn and involves an extra 300m up and down and is maybe an hour longer but with better views. I had already planned to do the latter and hoped the mist would clear and I would be rewarded with great views for my extra effort. 

I had just gone up the small footpath for 10-15 minutes when I came across some thistles which were starting to form flowerheads. The thistles were Great Marsh Thistle, Carduus personata and they were already a meter tall. When I looked closely I could see the stem just under the developing thistle heads were covered in plump black aphids. There were perhaps 300 on this stem alone. Then I noticed the usual forest ants which I see thousands of every day were crawling around on top of the aphids. I thought they might be killing them and taking them back to the nest of pine needles, but they were drumming on the aphids with their front legs. It then occurred to me that the ants were milking the aphids – which I had heard about. After some later research I found out that the ants were indeed farming the aphids for a sweet secretion  they produce called honeydew. They would tickle the ants in order for them to release a secretion of honeydew which the ants would lap up. In return the ants would patrol the aphids and ward off the aphid’s predators, like ladybirds or certain beetles. It was almost the same as a shepherd milking his goats and also protecting them from predators like wolves. It was a wonder to watch this symbiosis in action. 

As I continued up through the thinning larch trees the mist cleared in occasionally. I was lucky that in one small glade a few hundred meters away I spotted a roe deer. It watched me intensely and then turned momentarily to do something before watching me again. It did this 4-5 times so I was sure it was warning a fawn. Sure enough a fawn soon stood up, barely taller than the grass and the two of them looked at me before the doe led the fawn off into a small copse nearby. Doe will often deposit their fawns, hidden in the grass, while they go off and forage. There are lots of notices informing hikers not to disturb a resting and hidden fawn if you stumble across one. Dogs seem to be much more controlled in Austria than in the UK and frequently there is a duty to put the dog on a lead. One can see how it is necessary in such circumstances. 

The mist returned as I neared the top of the 300 meter climb to the treeless meadows at Griebichi, 2247m. Here I came across a field of Spotted Gentians, Gentiana punctata They were about 30cm high with 2, or sometimes 3, tiers of very pale yellow flowers with flecks of red on them. They were a small version of their large cousins the Yellow Gentian which can be 3 or 4 times the size but I haven’t seen any of them yet. It is from the root of the latter that they make Angostura bitters. 

The descent down the other side soon took me into the larch trees again. Because the larch trees are deciduous and their summer foliage of needles is not so dense it means plenty of light gets to the forest floor and there is always lush grass in their forests. The plentiful light, the green grass and the rich almost luminous green needles of the trees give a very comforting green hue to the woods and they are exceptionally pleasant places to wander through. Eventually as you descend the firs, Picea abies, start to appear until about 1700 meters they take over. The forest floor in the fir forests are much more barren as the firs take a lot of light but I was noticing now how a large leaved Aster, Adenostyles alliariae, were beginning to dominate the fir forest floor, covering vast areas and sending up their purple inflorescence. 

Occasionally I got a glimpse through the trees of the valley heading north, called Dorfertal, it headed straight into the Grossglockner massif draining some of the glaciers on the west side of it. However there were no views of the mountains today but some atmospheric glimpses of the foothills which tickled the imagination as to what lay further. Soon the foot path became a track as it neared the valley floor. Beside the track were thousands of the purple spotted orchids. Indeed even higher up the mountains different species of orchid were flourishing too. This seemed to be the prime time for them. 

There was a strong smell of slurry in the air as I neared the valley floor. I had been smelling it the whole way down. It meant the farmers of Kals were keeping their cows in barns at the moment (unless they had stored the slurry for 2-3 months to use now), and were practising a more intensive type of farming. This avarice paled into insignificance when I saw the development on the other side of the valley. There was a vast hotel complex called the Gradonna Mountain Resort. It had perhaps 150-200 modern chalets and a blackened glass tower block about 10 stories in the middle of these modern chalets. It put me off Kals for life.

I imagine that Kals always played second fiddle to Matrei, its bigger brother up the adjacent valley. In an attempt to catch up or even surpass Matrei the people and committees of Kals seem to have prostituted their beautiful tradition valley to resort developers. They cut much of the forest down on the west side of the valley and built a number of pistes, chairlifts and this huge resort. The chalets were cubic and made of timber, and with a nod to blending in even had sedum roofs. I am sure the architects thought and persuaded the local worthies that they were creating something really special rather than the eyesore it is. However there was no such excuse for the tower block in the middle which looked like it could house an oil industry service company in Houston. This was a disgrace and the people of Kals let their greed blind their decision. I hope they don’t think selling their heritage has brought them some parity with Matrei.

For the next half hour I had to cross the valley floor and weave through the hotel complex until I got to the bottom of the pistes. I then spent a good hour and a half climbing up a narrow forest path which kept to a strip of forest which had not been felled. It was quite a steep climb and I could not help thinking the pistes were very steep and certainly not for beginners. I should imagine they have giant slalom competitions here every winter. At the top of the climb was the Glocknerblick (Glocknerview) restaurant but it looked very quiet as the ski lifts were not running and it would take a special effort to get the motorists out of their cars and up here for a schnitzel. 

Beyond the deserted restaurant the path climbed a bit more up the piste and then escaped the desecrated mountain as it made a high traverse across beautiful steep grasslands at the top of the treeline towards a saddle called Kal-Materier-Torl. This traverse was lovely as the weather was fantastic and there was a cooling breeze after the sweaty climb up beside the pistes. The bowl it contoured round was slightly south facing so it was full of flowers, especially orchids and there were perhaps 6 different varieties thriving up here. Far down below me in the valley I could see the small town of Kals which was not desecrated to the same degree as the hamlet of Burg, just upstream, which was sacrificed to the developers. There was a  very friendly cabin on the pass with a few working men inside drinking beer and even smoking at the bar. The jolly macho innkeeper revelled in the mischievousness of his clients who were not from the hiking fraternity at all but farmers, foresters and construction workers. 

I now started the 1200 descent down to Matrei which I could see in the valley far below me. Beyond it was the Virgental valley with the town of Pragraten in the distance. It would be the walk for the day after tomorrow, after a rest day in Matrei. The clouds were hanging about the mountains around Pragraten which was a shame as they were all the 3000 plus meter peaks of the Venediger massif, which I will be among in 3 days.  The larch forest started just about straight away after the pass and I enjoyed my saunter through its calm light. Then the firs started and the terrain got a bit steeper. For the next hour I cautiously picked my way down the path which was a bit damp and the roots and stones were greasy. There were huge patches of the asters here also in the damp. As I descended rain approached and eventually just before the mountainside farm of Presslab I had to stop to put on my rain jacket as my shirt was getting soaked.

Presslab was an interesting farm and it looked like it had no road to it until very recently. Everything seemed to come up on an ariel tramway. It was full of old traditional buildings but the owner was building a new concrete house here too. He came to greet me and he was the biggest man I have seen for a while, perhaps 2 meters high with an enormous belly, like a South African second row rugby player gone to seed. He was wearing nothing other than a ripped T shirt, a loose pair of boxer shorts, hardly containing his tackle swinging about like a breeding bull, and a pair of wellingtons. Either he had just got out of overalls or he had gone feral in a way which Lennie from Mice and Men might do if he moved to Georgia’s Deliverance. He kept Highland cows and when he heard I was from Scotland became very passionate about them and their taste. “Beautiful flesh” he said. I would think he could eat two in a sitting. 

Below Presslab farm the route became much steeper for half an hour across the fields where the Highland cows were being fattened up and then through the fir forest which was slippery after the rain. At last I reached the stream on the valley floor and crossed it on a log bridge to reach a track. I followed this track down into the deciduous woods for less than an hour and it led me right into Matrei. The stream all the way down was regularly dammed with huge walls which held back a lake of boulders and silt on which the stream flowed to pour over the stone wall. I think this construction was to try and hold back the torrent if there was a biblical deluge which might spill into the town below.

Matrei was a beautiful, calm, colourful town and I was seeing it at its best. The sun was out when I walked beneath hundreds of window boxes full of geraniums and petunias on sun darkened wooden balconies. There were many hotels and guesthouses here and I can it is a popular destination with hikers and cyclists and it success would have made the Kals council committee jealous. My lodgings were on the main square and it was a family guest house called the Obwexer and run by the Carrer family. They had been very helpful and received a supply package for me and agreed to send a package further on Monday as the post office was closed until then. They made me feel very welcome and gave me a lovely room with a south facing balcony and west facing windows also. Beneath the balcony was the stream now between two huge walls to channel any torrent down and massive floodgates to prevent it entering town. I found a cafe which did great Italian food with a wood fired pizza oven so was spared dumplings. I was going to enjoy Matrei.

Matrei Rest Day. 0 Km. 0 Hrs. 0m up. 0m down. I had a few things to do in Matrei other than saunter around the town, drink coffee and enjoy some local snacks. The first thing was to recycle the box I received my supplies in, and send stuff to my friend Magali in the south of France where I would collect it in 3 months. I had been going 33 days now, a third of the whole trip and I have never used my down jacket once. I had only used my pot and stove once while camping and I could now eat my dehydrated food cold if need be. I did not intend to use my tiny thermarest mattress again and a host of other small items like hat and gloves. My repair and first aid kit had also not been used at all. I had not even undone the zip on it since Vienna so I went through it and took out a few things and packaged the rest to return. In the end I packed about 3 kilos into the box of stuff I would probably never use. I will keep my tent and sleeping bag as together they are just over a kilo but their continued journey with me is on thin ice. They might well get shipped out at my next resupply in 20 days along with my crampons and ice axe which I will ship out after the Stubai massif. 

I packaged everything I was shipping out now into the box, taped it up, put on the address label I had in the supply box and walked a kilometer with it to the post office. It was closed on Saturdays. So I walked all the way back with it. Mrs Carrer at the Gasthaus Obwexer saved the day when she suggested I give her the postage costs and she will deal with it on Monday when the post office reopens. I was eternally grateful for her proactive help. 

There was a hairdresser nearby so I had a set of clippers run over my scalp to take off the unruly 5 cm long hair which was growing at every angle. Then I went for a small lunch in the main square. After lunch I went up to the hotel room to write, but here I was overcome with tiredness and had to have a siesta. I then managed to write for a couple of hours and get completely up to date with my blog and other emails. 

Once they were done I went for a walk around the town. The solid church was open so I went in. Someone good was playing the organ, which had a very powerful sound and filled the church. I think it was slightly amplified also as it would have drowned out even 100 singers at that wholesome volume. In the vicinity of the church were many residential houses all with pretty balconies and colourful gardens. There was nothing flash in Matrei but it was a very classy town. Two teenagers walked past me, one with a cello and one with a woodwind instrument and this underlined the confident culture of the town. I had not delved into it as much as I wanted but I was glad I spent the day here even if I had squandered perfect weather. In the evening I went back to the pizza restaurant for a repeat of last night.

Day 034. Matrei to Pragraten. 17 Km. 6 Hrs. 710m up. 350m down. Gasthaus Obwexer farmed out its breakfast to either a bakery if you wanted a very early breakfast or Hotel Hinteregger after 0700. Hotel Hinteregger was just across the square and it was a 4 star hotel with a breakfast to match. As usual I ate for the day and had a good 2000 calories before returning to the homely Obwexer to gather my stuff and thank Maria Carrer for the stay. I was in two minds as to which way I should go to Pragraten but Maria said the Iselweg was the best as it followed the Isel River but that I should not miss the Obermauern church if I wanted to make a small detour. 

After listening to Maria’s recommendation, and looking at the map, and the route I had already planned I decided on a mix of the riverside path for the first half the day as far as Virgen, and then a walk through a cultural landscape for the second half from Virgen onwards. It was a stunning day when I left and headed west down the road crossing first the Tauernbach river which drained the Tauerntal valley to the north and then the Isel River which drained out of the Virgental valley to the west, passing just north of their confluence. There were some lovely old farms here with the huge barns adjacent to the large, chalet-type wooden houses, both with big eaves. Once on the south side of the Isel I found the Iselweg and followed up up the south side of the river on the very quiet asphalt road. It took me through the hamlet of Ganz and past more beautiful big old farms which have probably been farmed by the same family since the Black Death, with each generation modifying it a bit. 

A little after Ganz the asphalt road finished and a forest track continued as the fields and pastures stopped and the fir forest took over. It was cool and shaded in the forest on what was already a warm morning. The track contoured across the hillside keeping well above the river. Between the track and the river were a few hay meadows, all with an old log hayloft located somewhere on them. I could frequently see across the river to the other side of the valley. The section opposite Ganz did not look interesting but as I went up further I could see rows of very old haylofts and barns which formed an interesting looking hamlet at Zedlach, high above the valley. The track contoured in and out of every gully where small becks trickled down to water the meadows below and then join the roaring Isel River. Beside the path I noticed many thistle type plants all of which were preparing to bloom and I inspected a many for aphid colonies which ants farmed. There were quite a few with differing aphids and ants on different stems. 

The track then went down to the river just below the hamlet of Mitteldorf on the north side and there were signs for the Iselweg to cross the river here, which I did over to the north side. For the next half hour I followed a footpath beside the roaring river through a deciduous jungle which was erupting into summer. Especially prolific were the elders, some of which were still in full flower but most had past that stage and the withered flowers were giving rise to tiny berries. The roaring river was very powerful and certainly a human could not have crossed it. It reminded me of the rivers you find everywhere in the Hill Region of Nepal with slightly white silty water crashing down over boulders. 

After a kilometer on this riverside track I had to make the decision to continue beside the river or head up to Virgen. I chose the latter and it was a short climb up pastures and a track on a route called Weg de Sinne, to reach the large old wooden farms on the periphery of Virgen below the main valley road. Virgen itself was a stunning town, full of charm, character and oozing rural culture. As I headed up past the church I saw many women in their finest dirndls and men in traditional brown leather shorts and green jackets and I assumed they were going to church. It seemed someone was blaring traditional Austrian music out of a guesthouse which I though seemed inappropriate on a Sunday morning in a god fearing town. However as I passed the church the town square appeared and there seemed to be a festival. All the townsfolk were here in their finest and many people in official clothing like the mayor in a very Hapsburg uniform and also the volunteer firefighters in their dress regalia. There was a small stage and about 10 musicians were playing and filling the square with foot tapping sound. It seemed like a very jolly occasion and I watched it for about 10 minutes. I would have liked to have joined in but I would just be an awkward social misfit in this company. However the joy and energy of the occasion inspired me. I loved the town of Virgen and this festival added icing on the cake. 

I left full of joy and found the small lane which would take me up to Obermauern, a short half hour away. It was a delightful rural walk past meadows and haylofts with a few scattered smaller farms festooned with gerainiums. I had expected Obermauern to be a small pretty hamlet. It was much more than that, and nearer a living museum. The houses in the hamlet were fantastic, old wooden houses, dyed golden by the sun and perhaps some preserving oil or resin. They were quite modest, chocolate box houses but were covered in window boxes which lined every balcony. There must have been thousands of plants adorning the hamlet. The church was also modest and solid from the outside but inside it was beautiful decorated and painted with perhaps 50 murals from biblical scenes. There was the smell of hot wood and cut meadow grass which permeated the hamlet. Obermauern was a very special place and I would have loved to have explored more of this cultural masterpiece. 

From Obermauern I followed the track west between the mountain and a large knoll called Burg, where farmers were turning grass in the meadows with old red tractors. When the track petered out I found myself on a marked footpath which contoured round the side of the steep mountain high above the river which was still roaring some 200 meters below me in the bottom of a gorge. It was a lush wooded and dry hillside and I saw a lot of juniper bushes between the firs and deciduous trees. Quite soon I turned a corner and I could look straight up the upper part of the Virgental valley to the hamlet of Bobojach and the the small town to Pragraten beyond on the wide green valley floor some 3 km away. Beyond Pragraten was a ring of jagged mountains, some with glaciers on. It was a Shangri-La, a hidden mystical heavenly valley which stretched out before me.

I tried to keep above the main valley road on a series of footpaths which were often faint and seldom used and occasionally difficult with windfall trees to squeeze under. I would probably have been better on the valley road with the cars, but I insisted I kept above it. In the end my tenacity paid off and I was on a rural track through farms where the whole families were out turning the cut grass in the meadows with pitchforks and rakes. This track led right into the quiet town of Pragraten. It too was a delightful place full of charm and character but there seemed to be a lot of new holiday type chalets on the south side of the town. It was a heartwarming meander through the lanes past large farms and chalets to reach Feriehaus Enzian pretty much in the middle. It was run by an extremely thoughtful and calm young Dutch couple who moved here for the lifestyle. I can easily see the appeal. It was only 1500 but I was soon on a sunny balcony watching the swallows come and go from their nests under the eaves just above.

After I wrote I went out to find somewhere to eat. There were only two places, Pedro Pizza and the Gasthaus Grossvenediger. I went to the first as it was the closest. However, it was quite rowdy and the owner was joining in with a table awash with beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays. I did not go in as I did not want anything uncouth tainting my otherwise perfect day. Instead I wandered back through some lanes in town to the 100 year old Gasthaus Grossvenediger and had a simple healthy salad and pasta. It seemed to be the place where the more gentle folk ate. On the way home I noticed a lot of people in traditional dress with the men all sporting Tyrolean hats with 2 white feathers. I followed them to the town square where there was an orchestra with about 40 musicians. They were just about to give a concert. I stayed and watched for half an hour but the music was more classical than the foot tapping brass band of Virgen this afternoon. It was a fitting end to a cultural day. 

Day 035. Pragraten to Clarahutte. 13 Km. 4 Hrs. 850m up. 110m down. After a great sleep I had a fabulous breakfast on the terrace with the sun already warming the day,  which was a perfect temperature. I chatted a lot with Joeren, the owner of the Gasthaus Enzian over breakfast and tried to learn things about the valley. He really enjoyed living here and I could see it suited him with his young active family perfectly. Joeren explained to me that it was the farmers who had the political voice in the valley and they were traditional and conservative. They had been talk of various developments, including a large ski development, but the farmers would not allow it. The farmers of Virgental were not going to sell their valley to developers like the people of Kals, and for that they have to be applauded. They did have a ski lift here, but of the small local recreational type, like a local swimming pool, which pulled families up over a couple of snow covered winter meadows beside the town. 

I left about 0900 after getting some advice about the best way to go. It seemed the nicest way was to go back down to the river and follow the Iselweg again. As I walked through the town it was in full swing with farmers driving old red tractors and one family guiding a herd of some 20 milk cows through town from one pasture to another. The farms and the chalets for holiday accomodation were interspersed in this town, which added to its charm. I walked past the pizza place looking very quiet compared to last night when it was full of exuberant locals and then managed to overtake the herd of milk cows and get to the river. 

The milky white waters were still crashing down but the river seemed smaller. Often they are at their smallest in the morning and biggest in the evening when the day’s maximum melting has had time to flow down. The Iselweg was easy to find and it initially went up the north side on a track before it crossed to a track on the south side. It was a beautiful walk on this sunny morning and there was enough shade from the trees to keep cool. Across the river there were some fantastic old farms, with a barn and house under the same roof. The house end with two or three storeys of balconies dripping in begonias and petunias and usually facing south. In these hamlets there were often very small chapels to serve the farmers. The hamlet of Hinterbichl was especially nice, but it also had a motorhome campsite and the 50 or so camper vans parked up in the field, many with awnings out, diminished the rural scene a bit. 

Well after Hinterbichl the track crossed to the north side of the valley on a footbridge as it started to form a gorge. Just below this footbridge was the parking place at the end of the public road on the northside. The sides of the valley became much steeper and rockier now and the river had carved a deep ravine. There were a few places where one could look down into the chuning foam as it thundered down the valley. Soon the track levelled off and reached Islitzeralm. It was the requisite 20 minute walk from the parking place to make it a motorists perfect rustic, rural restaurant. Along this track I noticed a few plants I had not seen yet on this trip and one was a beautiful alpine lily. I saw small clusters of this plant about 10 times today. At Islitzeralm, near the restaurant, there was a bridge over the Isel to the south side of the river.

 

The track now climbed much more steeply as it went up the side of the ravine. There were frequent detours to platforms to view the various waterfalls as the Isel crashed down the bottom of the gorge. Although it was an arid day there was a slight mist of spray hanging about the bottom of the gorge with so much white water tumbling down. The vegetation was typical for a moist  place with plenty of ferns.The most spectacular of all the falls was the Umbalfalle which was more of a series of large steps rather than a single fall. There were lots of hikers here and I noticed that many were over 60. In fact there were probably more hikers over 70 than under 30, but it was not holiday season yet. 

At the top of the series of falls the valley remained a deep V shaped slot but was much more level now. The track crossed to the northside and dissaperared into a footpath. It was an easy hike along the footpath but it was warm on the still sunny day. The flowers were thriving along here and in the drier sections there were drifts of the Lifelong Saxifrage, Saxifraga paniculata, with its elegant stalk of delicate flowers coming out from a small rosette of leathery leaves. The Isel River was getting murkier and murkier as the tributaries of clear streams diluted it less and less, leaving the original flow a muddy brown torrent of grinding paste which eroded ever deeper. 

After a couple of kilometres there was a great view of the towering Rodspitze mountain, 3496m, and its high cirques filled with glaciers, many of which were showing large patches of bare ice under the melting snow. I had seen the mountain grow in stature all day but now it stood before me with untainted magnificence, rising straight up from the valley floor. I would be going over a high pass to the north of it tomorrow and it was still hidden from view. At the last minute Clarahutte appeared some 300 metres away. The first thing I noticed was the large water wheel which produced enough energy to power the hut, up to 15 Kwh apparently. The next unusual thing was that half the hut was buried on the uphill side and under a grass roof.  This was so the winter snows or avalanches did not collapse the roof. It was certainly an unusual hut. 

However it was staffed by the most friendly and happy Slovakian crew of Jurai and Karin who were a young couple. They paid rent to the Alpenvereining for the building. Karin was exceptionally welcoming and friendly and had a fantastic joie de vivre . She went round joking and chatting with all the customers in perfect German or English. She also spoke fluent Slovak/Czech, French and Russian. Together with a Slovak friend of theirs they did a great job running the cabin and it was very atmospheric and cosy inside  with good food. It was supplied by helicopter at the beginning of the season with the main non perishable supplies, but then the crew would walk down to below the Umbalfalle waterfall, a good hour and a half away, 3 times a week to get fresh vegetables and carry them up in their backpacks. As the afternoon unfolded and the clouds slowly covered the sky more people arrived. There was a couple from California and they were bright, well informed, West Coast Americans  who are always a pleasure to chat with. I ate with them outside on the terrace and then we talked until it got dark. Karin, the hut host, came out to join us for half an hour as the other 10 guests had gone to bed.  

Day 036. Clarahutte to Prettau. 18 Km. 7.5 Hrs. 960 m up. 1580m down. Breakfast was quite early at 0700. Considering everything fresh had to be carried up I was amazed at the real milk, yoghurt and fruit salad. It was a much better breakfast than I had hoped for given the access, and better than most huts which had a road them. Half way through Karin took the guitar off the wall and played about 10 songs. Her voice was very clear and pure, and I am sure if she ever needed another job she could find a career as a singer/songwriter. We were all impressed and the Americans were blown away. 

I said goodbye to virtually everyone at the hut. It had been a cosy socialable stay and much of that was due to the way the hut was run and the ambience in it.  I set off well before 0800 and headed up the east side of the river. There was cloud stubbornly hanging around the tops and the morning breeze was bringing moist air up the valley which was cooling as it rose, filling much of the upper valley with mist. I hoped and expected it to burn off as the morning unfolded revealling yet unseen lofty peaks clad in sparkling glaciers. The valley above the hut was very lush and small streams poured down from the peaks above watering the valley sides and the V shaped valley floor. I could see springs gush out of the steep rockfaces where water permeated down in the mountain and hit some impermeable strata. The valley opened out a bit as it reached a bridge over the silty torrent. 

I crossed the bridge and almost immeadiaty the path started to climb slowly up the west side of the valley. The flowers here were rich, especially the saxifrages and I think at least 10 varieties were prolific. As I climbed the mist lifted slightly but then dropped again and the clouds on the peaks lingered. Occasionally I got a glimpse to the snout of the Umbalkees glacier where the murky Isel River rushed out of. Well below the snout noticed a large plain of flat silt with the braided river running across it until it got to a narrowing between boulders and then it poured down a small fall. I suspect previously this plain would have been a lake when the glacier retreated revealing it, but it quickly filled up with glacial sediment. In 50 years when the glacier has gone this silty plain will be a fertile meadow. As I climbed towards the Kliner Phippip Rueter Hutte the mist partially cleared so I got a glimpse across the valley to the rocky peaks but not up the valley to the glaciated peaks.

There were marmots all around the stone cabin when I arrived and they all dissapeared underneath its foundations. It was a tiny cabin, a bivouac really with cramped sleeping for 8 and an old enamelled Neff log burner which doubled as a cooker. However there was no wood. What it lacked in comfort I would say it would have certainly made up for in views, but with the mist obscuring the mountains I could not vouch for that. There were a few ruined stone cabins nearby and a large flock of sheep so I think these must have been old shepherds cabins. They were built on a slight prow and had natural protection against avalanches in the winter. 

The final climb from the stone cabin to the pass at Vorderes Umbaltorl, 2926m, was not really a path at all. There was a painted route through boulders, many unstable and newly fallen from the gneiss crags above. There were also some shallow snowfields, which were easier to go up than the boulders. As I neared the top the mist cleared and I got a great view up to the pass. However across the valley I just got some tantalizing glimpses of the summits of the glaciated peaks but nothing else. The final 50 metres up to the pass were quite steep and a bit muddy and I am sure a tad slippery in the wet. Once my head had cleared the final boulder I got a great view to the huge ridge on the other side of the Ahrntal valley below which made up the main crest of the Zillertal Alps. It would be my next section. 

I had expected the path on the other side to be much steeper, covered in steep snowfields and with even more unstable boulders than the climb up. However, I had just entered Italy and the Italian Alpine Club had made a superb path down from the pass. It traversed across the boulder field under the west face of the small Ahmerkopf 3051m to a ridge and then descended the ridge. The traverse and the descent were on newly positioned boulders and rocks which formed a very rough but stable pavement and then rough steps.  It was very easy on the legs to descend and I made it to the small glacial tarn in the bottom of the cirque in less than half the time I predicted. The tarn was almost already silted up and the glacier above it was just clinging on to life. It was brown and dirty and covered in rockfall. I dont think it will be moving anymore and will just shrink until the stones cover it. I had to cross two isolated remnants of it near the tarn and I could see the bare blue ice below the heaps of boulders covering it. Both these will be totally gone in 10 years and then the stones will finally settle and get covered in gravel, earth and turf. Once the turf forms marmots will colonize the area and make burrows between these very boulders which once embedded in ice. 

The excellant path traversed round the bottom of the cirque quite easily and then climbed a short slope to reach the ridge on the south side, which separated it from the adjacent cirque with its retreating glacier. On this ridge was a saddle, with the cluster of peaks I had just been on culminating in Rodspitze on the east side, and the isolated Rainhartspiitz on the west side. Right in the middle of the saddle was the grey Lenkjochhutte lodge which was not one of the prettiest in the Alps had a great view up the glaciers to Rodspitze from its terrace. I stopped here for cheese and bread and a drink and also chatted with a young, lively charismatic guy who I assumed was the warden. His English was good and he had been to Edinburgh which he loved. I picked his brains on the best descent for I could either go down the cirque I had just dropped into and traversed across, or go to the one to my south. He said there was little to choose timewise but the southern route was nicer and it would take me to Prettau without having to go on the road at all. He said I should stop there. But I explained I wanted to go to Steinhaus. He said it was a long way and rain was coming. I said I am from Scotland so am used to rain and he laughed. 

The route in the southern cirque was a delight. It was a very short easy descent to get down into it where there was a larger shallow tarn which was also filling with silt from another glacier coming down the flanks of Rodspitze. I could see rings on the tarn where rain drops were landing on it. When the rain did arrive I did not even put my jacket on. I had noticed the rain in the forecast was often exaggerated.

For the next hour I slowly descended a series of meadows with the stream beside me growing quickly as foaming rivulets tumbled down the rocky hillsides from snowfields and dissapearing glaciers far above.  The flowers were abunbant and the grass was lush and green. Eventually the valley veered enough to the west so I could see down to a huge meadow with the stream meandering through it. At the end of this meadow was Rotalm, a 2 storey barn, dairy and summer farm under one roof. This meadow was surely once a lake also which had filled in, like the one this morning, but perhaps 50 years earlier and its surface was now covered in grasses and flowers. I had a look in the barn and there were stalls for 10 cows in here- but no sign of any here recently. However, above each stall someone had lovingly written the name of each cow which occupied the stall. It reminded me of the lovely Zauneralm some 3 weeks ago where Franz cherished his milk cows.

Below Rotalm the path dropped down into the larches. There was another shower of rain and some distant thunder. As I descended the thunder grew more frequent. The whole of the Zillertal ridge in front of me was soon enveloped in clouds which became quite dark in places. Then I saw an isolated flash of lightning high above one of its obscured peaks. But I was soon preoccupied with some old mine workings. It seems there was a vertical seam of copper ore here which was discovered in the 16 Century. Initially it was mined here where the seam appeared at the surface. However as the mine developed tunnels were cut from the path I was descending to access the seam. Initially they were just 50 or 100 metres long in the 17 century but then they were 500 metres and even a kilometre in the 18 Century and 2 Kilometers long, right from the Ahrntal valley floor at Kasen in the 19 Century, before it was all abandoned when easier places were discovered. 

As I descended down through the evolution of the mine over time the larches got bigger and bigger but I could still see through them to the Zillertal ridge where it now seemed a full scale electrical storm was developing. There were flashes of lightening every 30 seconds and then thunder 10 seconds after each one. Then there was one behind me probably on Rodspitze where I had been 2 hours ago. As I entered the more protective firs there was another bright flash and I started to count. I would not even have got to half when there was a deafening clap right above me. I was glad I was in the forest and assured when I passed a herd of cows just after who were still sitting in the long grass chewing cud. 

Prettau appeared in the valley below about half an hour away and the rain returned so out came the jacket again. I just got to the edge of the pretty town when the half hearted rain got a bit heavier. As I walked through the upper eastern half of the town the rain got heavier and heavier until all the gutters were overflowing. My shorts were soaked and water was running down my legs into my boots. It was getting almost Biblical and soon there were sheets of water flowing down the road and waves in the drains sweeping all the spring debris before them. I saw a shop with a foyer, so I went in looking like a sewer rat. The first person I saw was the hut warden from Lenkjochhutte, who had come down the other path on a scrambler motorbike. I sheepishly told him we don’t have rain like this in Scotland. He said it would probably be like this all afternoon. I decided to bail out and asked him if there was a guesthouse nearby and he pointed up hill and said they was the Pension Knappenhof just 2 minutes away. 5 minutes later I was in a lovely room with a balcony throwing my sodden clothes into the shower cubicle ready to wash while the deluge continued.

I was the only guest at the Pension Knappenhof, and I suspect she was probably closed but took pity on me standing in the rain. She said she could do an evening meal which meant I did not have to venture out again. I spent the rest of the day writing with 2 hours off for the simple delicious 3 course meal. The rain came and went through the rest of the afternoon and early evening and by late evening it had stopped and static patches of mist appeared hanging over the washed valley, which was quiet and still, with everyone indoors. 

Day 037. Prettau to Steinhaus. 14 Km. 3.5 Hrs. 250 m up. 700m down. When I woke I could hear the occasional clap of thunder, even though it was still dark. It did not bode well. Throughout breakfast I could see the rain pouring down outside. I had little choice but to don my waterproofs and set off. It was the first time I had used my waterproof trousers in 6 weeks. I only had to walk the reasonably flat 14 km to Steinhaus, which I had intended to do yesterday, but cut the day short due to the Biblical rain. Right beside the very nice and exceptionally cheap guesthouse was the small Prettau church with its distinctive steep pointed spire covered in red tiles. 

Initially I walked down the quiet road in the rain for a couple of km. It followed the river which was a furious trashing of water, erupting in roosters tails and deep eddies as it hurled down the valley. There would be no escape in one fell in it as it was going at running speed and very powerful. Well after the end of Prettau, perhaps 2 km into the walk, the road went into 2 consecutive tunnels, but the old road continued between the tunnel and the river for a km. It was a deserted lane with no traffic at all. But then I was back on the road again for another half km until it entered another tunnel. This time there was no bypass lane and there was no pavement either. It would have been dangerous to go in and certainly more dangerous than crossing a small static glacier. However there was a footpath at the side of the road which climbed up the hillside above the tunnel and it was the only option. 

The footpath was infact a godsend as it slowly climbed above the road which descended into a gorge and I could see from the map it went into a series of tunnels. It would have been very unpleasant. The footpath in contrast countoured across the hillside through very green fields for half an hour to reach a lane and the hamlet of St Peter on the northern slopes of the valley. It also had a church very similar to the one at Prettau with its steep red tiled spire. At the small hamlet there was a large chalet being built and the massive concrete foundations and ground floor were completed. One of the visiting workers vans had got stuck on the verge with a tyre bogged down in the mud. It would have taken 3 men to push it out, but it had turned into a melodrama with perhaps 10 men, 4 tractors and a lorry with a Hiab crane all jostling for their opinion. Even a local council, following its own pedantic protocols, would have done better. 

The lane descended slightly towards farms for half a km and then my route turned uphill on another lane towards a beautiful old farm with a waterwheel. Just above the farm was a path called the Arhntaler Sonnenwege (Arhntal’s sunny path) as it was on the north side of the valley facing south. I knew this path would take me contouring along the north side of the valley for about 3 km through meadows and forest. It also took me through a few farms high up on the valley side. Even if it was pouring rain it was still a enjoyable walk peering into the open barns as I went past or admiring their huge stockpiles of neatly cut wood, which would surely see the farmers through many winters. After a good hour the path descended a steeper section in the firs and then entered the hamlet of St Jakob. It too had the typical Ahrntal church with a sharp spire covered in red tiles. 

Just below St Jakob in the hamlet of Woolbachgisse there was a wooden bridge over the raging Arhntal river again to the south side where there was a walking and mountain bike track beside the river. I followed this for about 2 km and it led me through dripping decidious woods and some farms and then to the easternmost houses of Steinhaus. I crossed another wooden bridge over the torrent and was pretty much in the centre of Steinhaus. I noted a couple of pensions as I walked through town but did not see anything else open until I got to a 5 star health resort on the westside with people in white dressing gowns on their balconies. It was not for me so I turned back and went to the Neuwirt Hotel which was still 3 star, a star to much for me. However he gave me a one star price for the room of 25 euros without breakfast. It was a great room with a south facing balcony overlooking the torrent. 

It was only 1300 so I showered and washed everything as usual and then went to the shop to buy tomorrow’s breakfast and lunch as I will have an early start for the big 2000 metre plus climb over the main Zillertal range to Kasseler Hutte. This pretty much brought an end to Section 04, The Hohe Tauern, which I had been walking through for the last 10 days since Bad Gastein. It had been a great cultural experience, especially the fantastic Virgental valley, which must be one of the nicest in the entire Alps. However from a hiking perspective it was a bit tame except for the journey up and down to Hohen Sonnblick.  Were I to plan this tour again I would have added a couple of days to this section and gone a slightly more demanding route taking me closer to Grossglockner and Grossvenediger, neither of which I really felt I had touched on or even seen close up due to the misty days when I was in their vicinity. I hope the Zilltertal with restore the mountain perspective. 

Section 04. 136 km. 51 Hours. 7690m up.  7740m down.

Section 04. Hohe Tauern. 19 June to 29 June 2022. 

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February 9, 2022

Day 016. Trieben to Perwurzpolster. 16 Km. 8.5 Hrs. 1720m up. 720m down.  Given the good weather forecast for the next couple of days and the bad forecast for a couple of days after that it made sense for me not to take a day off in Trieben as planned and push on for the next couple of days which had some tricky sections. Klaus, who ran the Triebnerhof waived the second night at the Guesthouse and also help me with printing labels to ship two packages. After the very large breakfast, I headed off into town to dispatch the parcels and buy some snacks for the next two days. Before I could even have an ice cream on this warm morning I was already heading out of town on the road leading south by 1000, knowing my legs were about to have an ordeal with about 4000 metres of ascent and descent over the next 2 days. 

The lanes on the southside of the town eventually led me to the leafy track which went up the west side of the Triebnerbach stream and adjacent to the country road heading south from the town. The stream had been subdued by concrete barricades to help slow the torrent in heavy rains and a small hydro plant, and the road had frequent grumblings of cars and motorbikes. Hence the walk was not serene for a couple of km until it turned off to the west after an hour. 

It now climbed pleasantly on a forest track beside the Sunkbach stream for a good hour to reach the edge of the meadows around Hohentauern. It was a nice climb through conifer forest with willow groves scattered along the wetter parts of the valley floor. Willow catkins were streaming across the valley floor in the gentle breeze like snow and were settling on the forest and numerous ponds, where they would drift to the windward side and form fluffy rafts. Some of the ponds up here seemed man made for various small hydroplants and others were natural. There were liesure cabins beside a few ponds, some with big fences to keep their ponds, which were full of farmed trout, from being harvested. 

Many cyclists passed me along here as it seemed to be an off road cycling track. All the cyclists were dressed in athletic lycra attire which had the advantage of expanding to fit most girths, but  gave completely the false impression that they were engaged in a sporting activity. All the bikes were electric and the passive riders just sat there, even on the uphill sections, without peddling at all, while the jelly, barely contained within the lycra, wobbled profusely as the wheels went over every pebble and pothole. They probably all thought they were working up an appetite, so they could eat at one of those easily accessible alpine restaurants, under the black and white glare of their hardy forefathers in their tackety boots, which were hanging from the timber walls. It is not a far fetched thought that affluent mankind is eating itself to a standstill. 

The route now veered away from the ponds and headed up through the larger firs with an forest floor of blueberry bushes almost lumnescent in the bright sun. As I climbed I heard the most unusual bellowing. In the end I thought it must have been a deer in distress, either chasing off a dog from its fawn or searching in panic for a missing fawn. I have noticed in Austria the rules regarding dogs in the forest are very strict and there are many “Hund Verboten” notices. A good hour after leaving the ponds I reached a large carpark, where those who were not kidding themselves with an electric bike, could drive too and walk the 300 metres to Edelrautehutte. 

When I got there it was busy, with perhaps 100 people sitting outside eating alpine fare and drinking beer. There was a lot of outdoor brands on display here, much of it pristine, as the outdoor fashion world has become mainstream, and style has triumphed over function. My own Rohan shirt, full of wicking technology and anti odour silver enhancements was a sweat-drenched, stinking rag which bore little resemblance to the salesman’s pitch. I ordered a litre bottle of water, ate a couple of snacks I bought in Trieben prepared to head up out of the forest for the second climb of the day and away from the rustic-gourmet diners. 

Within minutes I was looking down on the carpark and the busy Edelrautehutte cabin and returning to a world which was rapidly becoming what I considered normal. The larch trees were making a last stand for the forest as I climbed beyond 1800 metres but soon they got smaller and smaller until they eventually dwindled. The hardy forest ants who made their nest up here had to use larch needles and their mounts of nests looked much more silky and luxurious compared to the coarse fir and pine needles of the montane forest ants below. 

As I climbed, sometimes quite steeply, a wonderful view started to unfold. Just beyond Edelraute Hutte, to the west, were two alpine lakes, Grosser and Kleiner Scheibelsee, appeared in a large forest fill basin below. The lakes were absolutely pristine on this warm calm day and I could see ripples from someone swimming in the larger. Beyond them a valley led up, hemmed in by two alpine ridges, where there were many snowfields and higher alpine, some still partially covered in ice. The ridges on each side led up to the Grosser Bosenstein, 2448m, and Kleiner Bosenstein, 2395m, mountains which were joined by a narrow arete at the head of the valley. I was going up the southern ridge of this large basin to the slightly shorter of the two mountains. 

The climb was about 700m in all, which was on top of the 1000 odd metres I had already climbed in the morning, but the breeze stopped me from become a sweaty mess again. The alpine flowers which I had become familiar with over the last 2 weeks started to appear again, especially numerous was the Alpine anemone, Pulsatilla alpina. There were also many of the larger sapphire trumpets of the Stemmless Gentian, Gentiana acaulis. They were too deep for a bumble bee to enter and extract the nectar and I had heard they chew a hole at the base of the flower to extract nectar. I saw one doing exactly this. Eventually the narrow path reached a crest on the ridge, Grosser Hengst where the steeper climbing stopped and the route levelled off. 

The next 2 km were a absolutely magnificent walk along the rocky apex of the sharp ridge which rose and fell slightly. The views to my right on the north were over the beautiful Scheibel valley with its alpine forest, two lakes and rim of alpine ridges. While to my left on the south side were my route along the Wolzer Tauern mountains for the next 2 days. There were small dwarf alpine shrubs, occasional Pinus mugo and rocks along the crest. The rocks here were no longer limestone but seemed to be a far more granular igneous type which my boots adhered to very well and confidently.

As I neared the top at about 2300 metres of this rocky, sparsely vegetated terrain I was very surprised to see an adder sunning itself on the trail. It was a good 40 cm long and quite sandy coloured with the black pattern down the spine. I stamped my feet, but it was not moving, so eventually I stepped back and prodded it gingerly with my walking pole. It turned and squared up to the pole. I jiggled the pole and the adder bit it. I goaded it so much with the pole that after biting it several times it turned and retreated away from me slinking off into the dwarf pine and allowed me safe passage. I was very surprised to see one so high and wondered if they migrate up here for the summer from their dens in the montane forest in the winter. 

As I reached the top I could not help think that the better way to have come would have been up the more gradual path on the other side of the valley to Grosser Bosenstein and then across on the broad easy arete to where I was on Kleiner Bosenstein. My attention now turned to the west where there was a magnificent display of ridge after ridge disappearing off into the grey blue horizon. This was the Niedere Tauern range and it would be my home for the next 2 weeks. Right at the end of it, just where the opaque atmospheric haze engulfed everything,  perhaps 150km to the west rose the unmistakable giants of the Hohe Tauern, like Gross Glockner and Gross Venediger where I would be in 3 weeks. 

It was now about 1800 and I spied some 600m below me a small tarn surround by a sunny grass lawn and thought that would be a good place to camp. It was at the bottom of the south ridge which descended from the mountain I was on, at a saddle called the Perwurzpolster. The route down was quite steep and the rough rocky path could not stick to the apex of the arete all the time and frequently went onto the west side. Here is wove its way through outcrops and everntually reached the dwarf pine. I could see an alp on the west side of the saddle with a small cottagge and barn, but my heart was set on the grassy lawn beside the tarn. After a good hour of descent I eventually reached the saddle and then bashed a route down through scattered dwarf pine clumps to reach the lake. 

The campsite was a bit of a dissapointment and I think I might have been better going of the west side to the alp. The sunny lawn beside the lake was now in the shadow and it was a spread of huge, damp tussocks which were growing well in the moist soil. I manage to find a spot to put the tent up which was lumpy but all that was available and then fetched some clear crisp water from the bubbling stream which fed the tarn. I watched the water boatman beetles on the surface of the lake as I ate my supper out of the bag. They only seemed to have 4 legs all of which bend out to provide the maximum length so as not to break the capillary surface on which they walked. I expected to see 6 legs. I was asleep by 2030 as large drops of a half hearted and short lived rain shower slammed onto the cuben fibre of the tent.

Day 017. Perwurzpolster to Planneralm. 22 Km. 11.5 Hrs. 2130m up. 2280m down.  I woke early and was not well rested and slightly uncomfortable on the lumpy ground. I needed an early start so got up at 0600 on the clear morning. There was some dew about and the tent was covered in condensation as one would expect. I was slightly trepidation about today. From what I had read it was very long, remote, at times exposed with a huge amount of ascent and descent. So I was a bit anxious at I made my way round the tarn and threaded a path through the shrubs on lumpy tussock ground to gain the Perwurzpolster saddle again. 

Once on the saddle the route was easier as there was faint path, but it was well marked with painted stones. Enough people had used the path that a rustic set of steps had begun to form and the distance was just right for my gait. About half way up what was to be the first of many mountains today I saw a red deer jog over the ridge. It stopped and gazed at me and then continued again. It was slightly more petite and graceful compared to a Scottish red deer. I assume these deer spent much time in the forest and glades and less time on the open hill. After one and a half hours climbing I finally stepped onto the summit of Zinkenkogel, 2233m, having climbed nearly 500 metres from the camp. It was a beautiful day and I was wise to do this stretch early in good weather. Just at the summit an adder popped its head out of a hole in the turf between stones. It swivelled its head and 10 cm of body like a submarines periscope and then saw me. I think it would have liked to have reversed back in again but didn’t. Instead it emerged fully and wriggled its sandy-coloured body off to another hole and dived in head first disappearing quickly. 

As I walked SW along the ridge descending Zinkenkogel I saw a large group of about 20 chamois about 500 metres away. I noticed that some were grazing with their heads down while others were rushing about. Then I realized it was mothers and kids group. The kids, nourished by mothers milk had boundless energy and were just running for fun. I looked at them through the camera lens at 10 magnification at the very enchanting scene. They were reminescent of spring lambs in their energy but seemed to be even more mischievious and full of fun. Occasionally two would leap in the air collide in a haphazard fashion and tumble to the ground, only to get up and do it another 10 times before sprinting off and joining in others frolics or returning to mum to nuzzle her udder to get another burst of energy. It was quite a joy to watch them.

Along this part of the ridge, exposed to the weather and wind, it was mostly ground hugging plants which thrived. Moss campion and the tiniest Trailing Azalea, Kalmia procumbens, brightened up large patches as they were just coming into flower. Bees, hoverflies and butterflies, especially tortoiseshells were all darting from one small flower to another. The walking was very easy as it gently headed down. I saw group of 3 deer cross the ridge all showing some alarm, but no panic, with me walking towards them. The path continued down to another saddle on the ridge where the crux of the day was the climb up Hochschwung, 2196m.

This ridge was supposed to be very steep and exposed, and it certainly looked that as I approached it. I knew I was seeing a foreshortened view as it was directly ahead and hoped it would not be a bad in reality. After the small hill of Kliener Gieterkogel, a knoll really the next was Grosser Gieterkogel. When I reached its base it was indeed steep and daunting. There was cable here which reinforced the seriousness of it. The cable was just attached at the top and hung down with rubberized lumps every half metre. It was designed to hold onto while you hauled yourself up. I was wary of the top fixing  some 10 metres above me which I could not see so did not use it. However, unlike some Via Ferrata in the remoter regions of the Dolomites where the Latin fixings are suspect and some of the anchor points are detached and swing freely these Austrian anchor points are Teutonic and bombproof. There were another 6 or 7 ten meter cable lengths hanging down up the ridge and all were absolutely solid and faultless. You could have hung a large tractor on any of them. The climb was perhaps 150 metres in all and it was essentially an easy scramble and it was a little exposed. Had you slipped at any point and lost your footing I don’t think there was enough gradient to tumble. Once you started tumbling with a bit of momentum I dont think you would stop either.  Half way up I came across a striking flower I had not see before called Creeping avens, Geum reptans, with its striking yellow flowers. 

However the weather was now started to close in and patches of mist were appearing on all the summits around me and the patches of blue sky disappearing fast. I had a bail out option if it all went belly up and that was to rush down to Schwarberghutte and seek shelter there but that was still in a good few hours.  By the time I finished the scrambling section and was onto top of Hochschwung I was in the mist and when I got an occasional glimpse then I could see upwind of me to the south the skies looked very dark. I feared the worse and was worried about potential lightening. 

However, it came to nothing and the weather slowly cleared again and blue sky took up half the sky again. I saw another group of chamois with kids, but they were perhaps a kilometre away. The kids had all ventured onto a snow patch and were doing acrobatic leaps and even tumbles on it, just for the joy of it. I could now relax a bit and ease the pace as I climbed over another 3 mountains on the ridge each about 200metres up and 200 down again over the next 3 hours by which time I had reached the saddle of Grosser Windlucken, 1857m. It was the path to my bail out option, Schwarberghutte, a high alpine summer farm which I didn’t know was open or not, headed down to the south. It was just 1430 so I decided to push on. However, the tank was empty and my breakfast was long spent. I was running on fumes and needed a refill. I saw a small tarn with what I thought was a trickle into it but by the time I got there the rivulet  was dry and the tarn stagnant. However it was clean enough so I boiled a half litre for a dehydrated meal. As I ate it on a rock the blue patches started to vanish again. 

Reenergised, but nowhere like those frisky chamois kids earlier in the day I started the second part of the day. It inevitably involved another climb, this time up Kreuzkogel, 2109m. The skies were dark now and the mist frequent, and worst of all there was the near continual rumble of thunder far to the south, where the wind was coming from, at a force 6. Kruezkogel has a large iron cross on top of it so I gave it a wide berth as if lightning was to strike them the cross would be the place. The faint but well marked path now went on to Brieteckkuppe, which at 2144m was the highest point in the second half of the day and a bit of a mental milestone. 

The thunder continued to rumble and it seemed to be getting closer and almost coming round the back of me. The mist was not too bad and I could see heavy squalls perhaps 20 km to the SE which should pass behind me. However, there were still another 3 hills to go up and down each with 100 metres of ascent and descent. I saw a few ptarmigan on the next mountain, Kruezberg. I was tempted to cut across the side on a chamois path but then saw it went into thick steep scrub just before reaching my destination at the saddle and knew from experience what hell that could be at 100 metres per hour. 

At last I stood atop, Grosser Rotbuhel and my uphill for the day was done. I had been over 10 mountains today and a few knolls enroute and I was tired. The saving grace of the day was that the drop and climb between them got progressively less as the day went on starting at 400 metres and ending up at 100 metres. The much anticipated rain started just at the summit and I quickly put my jacket on and bagged my gadgets. A bit further and I could look down the piste and see the ski resort of Plannerheim. I knew the German couple, Peter and Maria, who I met 2 weeks ago and were also doing a length of the alps walk this summer were down there, as we had been in contact. I got a text saying they were an hour ahead of me and already at the Jufa Hotel. I could see it just below me so I strode down the soft piste for 30 minutes until I walked into the Jufa and greeted Peter who was waiting for me at the bar. It was 1930

There were high fives all round, even from the staff as Peter and myself congratulated each other with a glint of victory in our eyes. He had sorted a room for me and arranged supper at 2030 after we had showered. We were both tired after our long day as Peter and Maria had camped just a couple of hours ahead of me last night. I threw my wet clothes on the bathroom floor to deal with another time and had a great shower. The pressure in the jets ripped the dirt from my back. Downstairs Maria was already at the table refreshed and bright, but tired. We were all very tired and my knees were aching. The meal was Quality and Quantity and I barely finished the huge jam filled dumpling which was the desert. By 2200 I was in bed, there would be no writing today. I was now 2 days ahead of schedule and almost certain to take a day off or two soon when the poorer weather arrives.  

Planneralm Rest Day. 0 Km. 0 Hrs. 0m up. 0m down. It was a nice morning when I woke at 0730. Through the open window I could see blue sky and dozens of swallows darting about. They seemed to be nesting under the eaves of the hotel’s roof.  Breakfast was huge and I made the most of it. Peter put up some competition to see who could eat most but Maria took the title by using the breakfast buffet to make her packed lunches. Something I have always been tempted to do, but never had the brass neck to carry it out. They considered the weather forecast and decided that despite their weary legs they would continue the 4 hours to Donnerswald today. While I decided to have the day off to catch up and would risk walking in the rain tomorrow. I did not want to push injury, especially to my knees. 

I spent much of the moring sorting through photos and writing the blog in the very friendly hotel. It seemed the staff here were enjoying the peace and quiet before the season kicked off in a few weeks. Today they had one guest, namely me, and yet in a month they would be fully booked with 170.

In the afternoon I went for a wander around the resort. I suppose layers of crystal white snow covers blemishes like a sun tan does, and at the moment Planneralm was blotchy and laid bare. Some ski resorts have to aestivate during the summer as being dormant is the only option, while Planneralm had just about enough going for it to bring in summer hikers and school groups. It was clinging on to some vestiges of a middle class resort due to the older type buildings, walking trails and the clonking of cow bells from the animals which grazed the piste. 

However the Ewis Hutte was doing its best to undermine this by creating an appalling “Robin Hood Trail”  They had littered the forest with about 30 large rubber animals and built duckboards between them. On each rubber animal, all of which look like they had been imported from the US as there were Dall sheep and Bighorn sheep amongst them, had targets moulded on them. The idea was to go round the trail with an air rifle and accrue a score. It was the type of thing you would expect at a Chav’s stag party, a while before the haggard stripper comes on in a policewoman’s uniform, and well before the fighting starts. I made a detour to Ewis Hutte on the way back and they were proudly advertising this “mustn’t miss” attraction.

I did see a plant which I never even knew existed and had to look it up. It looked like a fern with a salvia top. Back in the sanctuary of the Jufa hotel I discovered and it was a Beakless Red Lousewort, Pedicularis recutita. 

I was the only guest at supper and they made me another great meal. The very good Slovak chef kept things simple, but tasty, and it was all beautifully presented. 

I got a message from Peter and Maria in the late afternoon saying they had really enjoyed their recreational walk and would probably stay put in Donnaswald for a couple of days while the wet weather, which is expected from tomorrow morning onwards passes through, so I will hopefully see them there tomorrow.  

Day 018. Planneralm to Donnerwald. 14 Km. 5.5 Hrs. 550m up. 1160m down. The forecast bad weather seemed to have already arrived when I woke at 0630. There was a very thick mist and the ground was wet but it was not raining.I don’t think the swallows nesting under the eaves could have flown in this as you could only see 10 metres. The staff at the Jufa hotel put on a truly magnificent breakfast for me and I sat alone in the dining room and ate for half an hour but by which time I was full and had enough fuel in me for the day.  I paid and said goodbye to the very friendly staff, nearly all of whom were Slovak. It is a tragedy of Brexit that Europeans of this calibre are no longer allowed to work in the UK, especially for the hospitality industry who now, exasperatingly, have to rely on entitled British youth to plug the gap.

I set off at 0800 and walked up through the cluster of dormant lodges and ski lifts until I found the path that went up through the forest beside the pistes. I had to pass a few more of the rubber animals on the Robin Hood Trail. Many of the rubber animals, especially the deer, had big eyes like Bambi and were made to look cute. It was almost as if they were saying “Shoot me! It will be such fun for both of us and I don’t mind” and so the myth perpetuates and imbues itself into another generation of detached youngsters.

The ground was sodden and squenchly with perhaps last night’s rain and still a couple of melting snowfields. Beside the track the firs quickly gave way to the dwarf pines which lent over the track heavy with dew. I was still just in a shirt so I had to shake a few before I brushed past them to avoid a soaking. Spiders webs were now clearly visible as they were covered in dew. As I climbed up the easy 400 meters or so to the pass I disturbed a couple of blackcock hens who were sitting in a fir and they launched and flew off down hill with their chuckling alarm sound. 

The mist remained all the way up the path to the Goldbachscharte at about 2000m, although it thinned a bit as I climbed. When I turned west and started heading up the easy west ridge of Karlspitze, 2097m, it cleared for a bit and I could see perhaps 500m up the ridge to the cross on top. However, it was completely still and it was dry and I was still in a shirt only.  It had been a very pedestrian ascent and my legs barely felt it. 

The descent started in the mist again as the path gently dropped down the north ridge to Karlscharte for 10 minutes and then left the ridge and doubled back on itself and started to head south into a big bowl, which I could not see. Out of the mist loomed a few pines. They looked very ancient and I was surprised to see them here, even above the larch. They were 5 needle pines with each one being 8 cm long. I think they were the very slow growing Swiss or Arolla Pine, Pinus cembra. A bit below these gnarled old venerable pines were the scattered larch trees of the expected treeline and then suddenly out of the mist some buildings appeared. 

It was Michelirlingalm, at about 1700m and it lay right on the treeline. First a barn loomed out of the grey mist and then 3 very sweet small alpine log cabins. I could imagine how cosy it would be inside such a cabin with a stove burning. It took me back to dull autumn days in the Norwegian mountains. As I walked past these evocative cabins the mist cleared slightly and I could see the few hundred meters to the bottom of the meadow where the talls firs started. And just like that I went from the mist ensgrounded hilltop where I was walking in a small bubble to suddenly being in a secure safe forest with the tall trees protecting me. 

The mist stayed away for the rest of the long descent from Michelirlingalm all the way down to the main valley floor. The route alternated between forest track and the old drove road where the animals would have come up in the olden days. The old drove road cut across the hairpins of the newer forest track and was much more pleasant. Beside the drove road the forest floor was vibrant with blueberry bushes for much of its descent. I passed 2 more alps, both looking quite humble with old wooden building in disrepair and with muddy cattle hoof marks around the barns. Both alps were being used but there were only about 10 cows at each. 

A long hour after leaving Michelirlingalm and the treeline I finally reached the valley floor with its huge lush meadows full of long grasses and wildflowers. Scattered along the valley were larger farms, virtually all with big log barns, perhaps an old old house and a new chalet type log house. This was a rich cultural landscape and I bet some of these farmers have been working in their barns and in the old houses for perhaps 10 generations or more. Each farm would probably have had a large old Bible with a family tree on the first pages which went back into the mists of history. The current custodians of the farms would have a tremendous sense of belonging, knowing their forefathers had worked on the same land and in the same barn. 

I followed the tarmac road south for about 3 km. It ended in the large village of Donnerswald so it was not busy and there was plenty to see in the farmyards. Donnerswald itself was something of a winter resort also but it had the resident population who farmed the land so there was a school here, a church and playing fields. There were also many chalets and guest houses but as I had already booked into the Jufa hotel, albeit for tomorrow, I headed there. Peter and Maria were in another and we arranged to meet later. The Jufa had a large school group at it but they were well behaved. The staff here were mostly Hungarian but had the same welcoming professional manner the Slovaks did in Planneralm. The Jufa chain of hotels are for youth and families and the staff they recruit seemed perfect for this younger clientele. 

In the evening Peter and Maria came over from their guesthouse to have dinner in  the Jufa hotel as it was perhaps the only place open in Donnersbachwald. It was a buffet dinner and I loaded up my plate. It was great taking time out from either walking, writing or washing clothes, the 3 W’s which dominate my life at the moment and that order. The food here was not at the same level as at the Jufa in Planneralm. Peter and Maria were also going to Sankt Nikolai tomorrow so we agreed to meet up at 0830 for the climb over the hill to the next valley where it lay. 

Day 019. Donnerbachwald to St Nikolai. 16 Km. 6 Hrs. 1050m up. 900m down. The Jufa Hotel in Donnersbachwald felt obliged to give me a packed lunch, on top of the one I surreptitiously made from the breakfast buffet, which was kind of them. I had arranged to meet Peter and Maria in the centre of the village at 0830 and we would walk together today over the ridge and down to St Nikolai. It was overcast when we set off up the track past the small hydro plant. The track was lined with tall firs which went up each side of the steep side valley, called Morsbach, to the misty ridges above. Usually I would be monitoring my progress and keeping a careful, if not neurotic, oversight of my location. But today I was lost in enthusiastic conservation and after a good hour we suddenly, and unexpectedly, reached Morsbackwirt. It was an alm which had been converted into an alpine resturant. To get customers up from Donnersbachwald village the owner had made a trailer similar to the ones you find on small trains at tourist attactions, which he hitched onto the back of his tractor. He seemed quite a character and Peter chatted with him briefly as he headed down to get his first batch with his tractor and train carriage. 

Just above Morsbachwirt the the alp continued up the hill to Obere Morsbbachalm, which was a working alm or alp. Thickset, brown, alpine cows with huge udders grazed the lush damp meadows while an older man was doing some carpentry on the log cabin. Apart from the food this must have been the main attraction the punters in the train carriage were getting pulled up for, to see how their forefathers spent romantic summers at the alp, without a care in the world for the commuters traffic jams. 

After this alm the track continued to climb up the floor of the pastoral valley for another km, veering further to the south, until we reached a small footpath which climbed more steeply to the west towards Gstemmerscharte pass. The path was quite narrow and sometimes faint but there were plenty of painted red and white flash marks on the rock and boulders to guide us. We walked more in silence here as the path was too narrow to walk abreast. I noticed how the Alpenrose, Rhododendron ferrugineum, were just about to bloom and within a few days would be in their prime. Already there was a mauve glow to the hillside where the flowers where just about to open. Especially lower down where the bushes where perhaps as much as a week ahead of their brethren 400 metres higher. The Alpenrose gave way to alder shrubs whose long springy boughs, ideal for being flattened under the snow pack, where full of leaf buds and catkins.  On an adjacent ridge a small stand of Swiss Pine, Pinus cembra, extended up the hill. They seemed more hardy that the larch which previously I noticed always defined the treeline. As we neared the pass the mists on the higher ridges and peaks cleared slightly.

We pooled my packed lunch from the hotel and our plunderings from the breakfast buffets and had a rest at the pass as it was about midday and we had finished the near 1000m climb. Blue patches of sky appeared quickly and any threat of rain rapidly vanished. We could see the descent before us, down 900m to pastures of the Solktal Valley far below. 

The first third of the descent was across open grassy hillside which was surprisingly wet and boggy. It was more a soggy autumnal Scottish hillside rather than a spring alpine hillside. As we descended into the small alpine side valley which was forming, squelching with most footsteps, we reached a small very pretty alpine cottage in the high alm. Beyond it was a bowl hemmed in by high peaks and jagged ridges. In this bowl there were perhaps 100 sheep or goats who seemed to be fending for themselves for the summer, as the alm house was empty. 

The remaining two thirds of the descent was down through the fir forest on a steep path, beside the Mossnakarbach stream which drained the bowls and hillside above the pretty cottage. It was often wet too, and was also strewn with the roots and cones of the firs, so it was a slow considered descent and just this part took an hour. At last we tumbled out of the forest path and came to rest on a forest track which zig-zagged down the hillside more gently until we reached the meadows and centuries old sun-blackened farms of Mossna. 

We were not done yet as there were still a good 2 km to go to reach St Nikolai. Unfortunately they were all up beside the road, which was not that busy, but busy enough so as not to be able to walk side by side. There was regular traffic coming and going along this country road to the 1800m Solk Pass at the head of the valley. The farms beside the road gave a great inside into the cultural history and livelihood of the valley, which was entirely pastoral, with no arable land. After a long half hour in the warm afternoon we reached the small road which led down to St Nicolai and took it for 500 metres to reach the historic village with a few old farms, a beautiful church with its onion topped tower and the large squat block of the Gamsjager guesthouse, which apparently dated back to the 13th Century. 

The guesthouse let us in. I was already booked for 2 nights while Peter and Maria took a night. A group of 5 Dutch who I met in Donnersbachwald would also be joining us that evening and a couple more Austrian hikers too. St Nikolai seemed to be a bit of a hiking mecca with a few trails crossing here, and plenty of day hikes also in the stunning Solktal valley. The Gamsjager Guesthouse was perhaps 30 metres by 30 metres square and 3 stories high with another in the attic. Perhaps 25 large bedrooms in all. On the ground and first floor the rooms and hallway were vaulted like a monastery. I showered, washed clothes and had a small walk. When I returned the chatty Dutch had arrived and I spoke to them for an hour. I joined Peter and Maria for supper. The menu was great for a carnivore but offer little to vegetarians so my meal was a disspointment. The owner was too professional to scoff aloud when I told him I was vegetarian, but I could sense he thought it. He was a big burly Austrian with an enourmous belly and a heavy smoker to boot. He wont be long for this world unless he discovers restraint and broccoli.

St Nikolai Rest Day. 0 Km. 0 Hrs. 0m up. 0m down. Breakfast was not huge, but to be fair we asked for more bread and it was given. The Dutch decided to head on but rather than hike in the forecast rain to the Rudolf Schoder Hutte they would take a taxi further. This lodge was likely to not accept them as it was closed for repair for another week. They decided to go to Preintaler Hutte lodge where I hoped to be in 3 days. Peter and Maria had no worries and headed up to Rudolf Schober Hutte in the hope something would sort itself out and if it did not then they always had their tent. Our routes would digress after that until the Majola Pass in about 6 weeks when they briefly overlap again so I hoped to see them then. 

I went up to my room as the drizzle started and wrote the blog for a few hours and then had a siesta. It wasn’t raining when I woke and I was a bit worried I might have made the wrong decision and squandered a day. However by midday the drizzle started again and it continued all afternoon occasionally becoming rain before settling back to drizzle again. By mid afternoon I needed some air so went for a small walk exploring the village on a 3 km track I found called the St Nikolai Rundweg. It took me on a circuit around the hamlet, which was really dominated by the Gasthus Gamsjager and the church although there were some 30 other houses, many of them old and characterful, in the hamlet.  the inside of the church was much more lavish than I expected. I suspect that the Gasthus Gamsjager was once the rural landlord’s house in centuries past and it was also part barn, dairy and storerooms for the local community too and the church was connected to this landowning lower aristocrat. 

In the evening I got a message from Peter and Maria saying it had been a difficult day with stormy conditions on the pass over to Rodulf Schober lodge, which was indeed closed with only an old caretaker there, and he sent them on their way down to Landhaus Etrasee. Which is where I will probably end up tomorrow. It justified my day off when I heard it was so stormy on the pass, especially as I was a day ahead of schedule.

Day 020. St Nikolai to Etrachsee. 17 Km. 7 Hrs. 1250m up. 990m down. There was a disappointing mist hanging over the hamlet when I woke. Worse still it was dripping off the eaves into the gutters below on the old building outside my window and higher up the mist was being driven by a fresh breeze. The forecast said it would stay like this until mid afternoon and then clear up. I had already decided to go, come what may, so after the perfunctory breakfast I was given I set off a bit after 0900. It was just a drizzle really so I decided not to don my waterproofs, but just walk in shorts and my softshell jacket. 

I headed out past the church and then took the track which went up the Braualmbach valley beside the stream. About 15 cows were sheltering under trees and when they saw me they all came towards me at a brisk pace. I had to shout and wave my arms and sticks to get them to stop. I think they assumed I was bringing them salt or something. It was a beautiful calm valley on this misty morning and I followed the track through the meadows with the large stream meandering along the valley floor. 

A good half hour after leaving I passed the Braualm alp with its 2 or 3 houses and some 100 cows and a few horses scattered about in the surrounding meadows. Many of the cattle were sheltering under isolated giant firs which had been spared the axe. It was a very peaceful place and I felt I was wandering through a romantic era painting of a misty pastoral scene, which it was. The valley extended up for about 3 km from St Nikolai with flat meadows on the valley floor and then steeper meadows extending up either side where the forest had been fairly recently removed as the rotting stumps still littered the meadow. 

After 3 km the valley came to a headwall with about 5 streams tumbling down it from various high hanging valleys and alpine bowls high above and lost in the mist. All of these streams were tumbling down the steep headwall in white torrents and one cascaded down steep rock slabs in a waterfall, called the Durmoos waterfall. The path now had to go up this headwall in a series of zig-zags through a harvested area of forest for perhaps half an hour. It then eased off and went into the tall firs on a metre wide drove road which would be used to drive the cattle up and down. An hour after leaving the main valley the forest thinned and I was crossing a sodden alp when 2 houses and a barn appeared out of the mist and I realized I must have reached Hohenseealm. As I passed the buildings the mist cleared momentarily and revealed the lake, Hohensee. There were some small fish rising near the shoreline, probably trout, and there was an upturned dinghy beside the barn, obviously used for fishing by the alp owner. 

For the next hour the path climbed, sometimes quite steeply through the larches with alpenrose as ground cover. The flowers were almost out now. Here and there I noticed an Arolla pine. It was slow going because the path was small and greasy, with a mix of bare rock and wet turfy soil. I had to place each foot carefully as I climbed. On one section there were 3 small ladders of 6-8 rungs each but they were not at all exposed and it was more of an aid to get up a steep 45 degree slab. Occasionally the mist cleared enough for me to see the Hohensee lake below but usually I was just plodding up, disorientated by the mist. 

The small, well marked path crossed a ridge and then dropped down into an small alpine valley containing another of the streams which tumbled down the headwall. I crossed the stream and then slithered up on muddy boulders in the scrub alder until I got to a very small lake at about 1900 metres. Virtually all the larch and scrub willow had vanished now and I was onto the bare hillside covered in alpines. Many of the alpine flowers have the ability to close up and hunker down in poor weather and most had done so. As I climbed further the larger Schimpelsee appeared just below me, but I was going up away from it on the final slopes which led up to the Schimpelscharte pass at 2276m. There was the odd snowfield to cross on this north facing slope before the final rocky 25 metres. Occasionally I got a glimpse back of some of the route I had come up when the stiff breeze cleared the mist for a while. I did not linger as I was still in my shorts and softshell jacket and the northerly wind was chilling my hands. 

The top was misty but just 10 metres on the other side there were cleared pockets and the wind had completely ceased as I was in the lee of the ridge. As I descended a further 30-40 meters I was in another world looking down the Grafen Valley which was initially a large boulder strewn bowl beyond which was the upper sparse tree clad slopes,  and then the fir forest with meadows dotted about them. It was dry here and this was probably a combination of the vanishing drizzle as per forecast and the lack of mist which coated everything in a veneer of water. I could start to trust my boots again on the rock, which I think was gneiss. After a good half hour I made it through the boulderfield unscathed and was approaching the treeline. 

There were some magnificent old Arolla pine in the upper forest, even above the larch and at the same altitude as the highest Pinus mugo pine shrub. As I descended these Arolla pine trees became more plentiful. I noticed that only the large ones had cones beneath them as the medium or small trees have not reached the requisite 40 odd years of age when they started to produce cones. These cones have become very fashionable to flavour schnapps or grappa with but are hard to come by. After another 100 metres of descent I entered the denser firs forest and followed it down to the Rudolf Schoder Hutte cabin. It was closed as Peter and Maria warned. The opening times of this particular hut seem very erratic year to year. I had already decided to continue to Etrachsee lake anyway.  

I dropped onto the track and followed it down to the main stream in the valley which it crossed and the track then turned to parallel the stream south. It reached Grafenalm within a few minutes and perhaps 10 from Rudolf Schoder Hutte. Grafenalm was a mix of beautiful old log alm houses, blackened by the sun and smelling slightly bitter and a few newer alm houses with solar panels. There seemed to be signs of cattle about but it also looked like a few houses were leisure only. 

A good half hour after Grafenalm I reached the lovely alm with its pretty cottage and barn on the northside of Etrachsee. This was very much a working alm and there were many cows with bulging, taut, udders full of milk and looking awkward to walk with. There was a large bull here too who looked peaceful enough but I gave it a wide berth. The track came down the east side of the very idyllic looking tree fringed Etrachsee Lake which was about half a km in diameter. At the south end of it was a cluster of very old looking log cabins, most were 2 storey and this was Landhaus Etrachsee, one of the nicest places I should imagine I will stay on this entire trip. 

Landhaus Etrachsee was owned and run by Christine whose father bought this place some 55 years ago. Christine was kind, helpful, arty, well-educated and slightly bohemian or eccentric. The two larger 2 storey cabins were part of the bed and breakfast accommodation, and the third cabin of the old homestead was a very characterful cosy fish restaurant, with trout and char from the lake. I should imagine it was very much on the driving/electric bike foodies tour. Christine had no food except breakfast and this is where her guests ate dinner and snacks. She leased it out to a chef who ran the place leaving Christine free to socialize. I ate a very filling dish of cheese filled dumplings here. 

I was sleeping in the annexe which was probably once the barn and boatshed. I was right beside the water and looked onto the lake. The accommodation was old and quirky,  but full of character. However the main old house was brimming with history with books, hunting trophies, wooden skis and all sorts of old dairy implements on the walls. I sat in this main room and wrote while Christine chatted with a few of her local friends on this Friday evening. It was a delightful place, a hidden alpine treasure just rustic enough to keep the pampered out. 

Day 021. Etrachsee to Zauneralm. 21 Km. 9 Hrs. 1120m up. 1420m down. I had an early breakfast as today was a bit of an unknown day. The promised good weather did just not arrive and there was cloud on the mountains and a threat of rain from the dark skies. I chatted with Christine over the excellent breakfast she served. She told me she was 72 but it did not show. She had built a 500kwh hydrostation just below the cabin and it provided all her power and she was now starting to get a good price selling it also, repaying the million euro plus investment.

I set off at 0800 and this time went round the west side of the lake on a small path. Fish were rising everywhere, with some leaping out of the water. There were plenty of mayflies on the path and many ventured out over the water where they were snatched by the 15-25cm trout. There were so many trout rising I wondered if it was stocked. Christine had a few casts of historic trout hanging in the dining room and they were 2-3 kg and one was 6 kg and it had morphed into a ferox. I would never have imagined there were ferox trout in this small lake. 

The path soon reached the delightful alm at the north end of the lake to meet the track I was on yesterday. Soon after I turned off and followed another track to the NW as it climbed up through the firs passing a couple of pretty alms hidden in the forest and only revealled by the clonking of cow bells. Again, as I walked through one, the cows ran towards me in the hope of some snack. They were big powerful cows and it would be dangerous to come here with a dog who goaded them to stampede. Before the forest ended then mist turned to drizzle. I walked on until I got to a small cottage, possibily for hunters, and I took off my soft shell and put on my rain jacket as who knows what awaited me up the mountain now covered in mist. 

From the hunters cabin I plodded on up to the top of a pass called Hubenbauertorl at 2051m. I had no orientation at all and just followed the markings on the rocks and my GPS as I undulated for the next hour. Occasionally I could tell I was on an exposed ledge and other times I was crossing snowfields, but other than that I was in a small bubble of visibility which was about 25 metres. I am sure there would have been some great views and it felt a shame to miss them. At one stage it got very bright and I was sure the sun would break through. 

And then suddenly the mist pulled away and I was in the midst of impressive peaks, before the white veil covered everything again. But then the mist started to clear more frequently, and for longer periods and I could work out the lie of the land. I was crossing a north facing bowl between 2 peaks. I had to cross a ridge from one of the jagged peaks to enter another bowl and there was the odd steep bit but nothing exposed. Then I came to a larger snowfield which was reasonably steep at about 35 degrees, with boulders at the bottom. Had I slipped there would have been no stopping me until I hit the boulders at 15-20 km per hour. So for the first time this trip I got my ice axe out to stop a fall. The snow was surprisingly hard and only once in the 100 metre cross did one foot slide a bit. I could have avoided the snowfield by going round below it but this would have taken half an hour on the greasy lichen clad boulders.

After the snowfield it was an easy walk up the steep stoney path to reach the second pass, Hinterkarscharte, 2274m. The weather was improving rapidly all the time and I could see down both sides of the pass now to the grasses below the stones, and boulders, and then the trees, and finally the deep valleys below. With patches of blue sky getting bigger all the time I went steeply down the west side of the pass into a large bowl called Rantenalm. There were a number of lakes on its various levels but I only went to the first lake, and not the lower one where there was a grassed over track. The route followed a small path contouring across the steep hillside from the upper lake to the day’s third pass, which was called Rantentorl at 2166m. I flushed a number of ptarmigan on this traverse who flew off and landed further down the path just to be frightened off again. 

Rantentorl was quite a narrow ridge where a glacier had been working away on the valley on each side creating a steep headwall. I had to go down the one on the northside. I was surprised it contained no snowfields as it faced north. It was a simple 100 metre descent on a stoney zig-zag path to the bowl below where there was a shallow lake and loads of springs welling up. There merged to form a stream which dropped out of this bowl into the upper forest of larch. The path followed the stream steeply down for the first bit until it slackened off where the larch gave gave to the firs. 

The descent down the fir filled valley was easy as it went from alm to alm. On the first was a small rustic unlocked cabin where the hardy could easily have spent then night. The next two were Innere Neualm, which had no buildings, and Vordere Neualm which had a gorgeous house, smaller cabin and barn. Between the two Neualm I came across another herd of Highland cattle who were sitting under the trees in the shade chewing cud. The rocks were quite greasy on the descent and on one occasion I slipped and broke the lower segment of a walking pole. It looked easily fixed with a hacksaw though. Soon the path reached a track and I followed ity down into the valley with the scenic darkwaters of Schwarzensee across the valley floor and high jagged mountains all around it. Beside Schwarzenzee was an old hunting lodge and a few alms. The alms had all become small resturants catering for day trippers. I had my mind set on going to Jageralm and eating, and then see if I could find a campsite or even a shed to sleep in. 

I had a necessary meal at Jageralm as I had been on the go for 8 hours straight. Then I tentatively asked about somewhere to stay and suggested some alms or the Brietlahn hutte. They either did not do overnight accomodation and just catered for the motorist/electic bike foodie or the were closed. Then the cook came through and suggested Zauneralm, over the river on the quiet side of the valley from the closed Brietlahn Hutte. It sounded perfect but like all these things something might have got lost in translation and the whole thing could be a dissapointing red herring. 

I set off down the valley on the track and passed Hamaralm quite quickly. It sold cheese and had a waterwheel and it might have been a slightly more authentic place to eat. About half an hour later I passed Grafenalm. It was empty but the main house had a large veranda I could have slept under and table to write the blog on. But I decided to give the information I had on Zauneralm the benefit of the doubt. It was another half hour until the Brietlahn Hutte appeared by the large carpark where everyone parked to walk to the alm resturants by Schwarzsee. Breitlahn hutte was the usual choice for people walking the Zentralalpenweg as it was an Alpenverein cabin. However there was now new host and it was not opening for another month. It looked lovely but with its proximity to the carpark it would really be a day trippers resturant rather than a hikers watering hole. 

I followed the track to Zauneralm over the bridge and came to a cluster of beautiful sun bronzed cabins, many adorned with window boxes brimming with geraniums. There were people about so I went through a gate onto a beautiful lawn in the midst of the cabins and spoke to a lady who was called Matilda. Her husband Franz, was dressed in a grey dairy coat looking like a large apron. He was leading a cow out of one of the cabins just the other side of the fence. There was another couple talking to Matilda seated at an old table under a balcony. Matilda, who was about my age, and spoke less English than my poor German, but she said she had a room. She led me up a narrow wooden staircase through a trapdoor to the balcony above and then opened one of the door off it. It was a sweet, simple room with two pine beds and red checked bedding. A chocolate box bedroom. There was a shower and toilet nearby. I unpacked and changed and went downstairs and was ushered into the main room of the cabin which was the dining room, with a big table. 

It was a lovely room with a rich ambience and history. An old but clean and shiny metal oven warmed the place, beside it was the old clay oven and on top of it were some 10 large Styrian Cheeses sitting on round boards. It was the typican and unique Styrian crumbly cheese. Matilda gave me a radler and a styrian bread, like a fried chapati, with some of the crumbly cheese dropped on it, before it was all wrapped up like a pancake. There was nothing shy about this crumbly cheese and it was no passive Emmental. I find it delicious. I then wrote the blog for an hour when Franz appeared at the door with my broken walking pole. We hacksawed the kinked broken end off and inserted the rest into the middle section and it worked perfectly. 

Matilda kept coming through to the kitchen next door to get treats for her friends outside, including a bottle of Scotch Whiskey. There was lots of laughter as Franz joined them also. Eventually at 2030 they went, Franz I think went to bed and Matilda came through to join me. I put the blog away unfinished and chatted to her for almost an hour, gleaning what I could of their life. Her and Franz were grandparents and his family, and I think hers also, were farmers. They lived in Ennstal, 15 km down the track in the main valley in a typical large chalet, perhaps 4 stories high, with multiple balconies under the eaves and plently of window boxes of flowers. It was a large and solid house and looked gorgeous.

However, for the last 20 years and perhaps longer for Franz they left in mid May and came up to the family alp of Zauernalm for 4 months. There were 7 farmers who had cabins here, but they were the only ones who had animals. Many of the bronzed cabins were 200 years old. Then in Mid September, they walked back down the track to their main valley farm. The beloved and precious milk cows, of which there were only 11, led the procession of other cattle, namely calves and bullocks of which there were about 100. She showed me photos of the milk cows returning down the road with their horns adorned with ribbons and decoration. Many of the other cattle were scattered around the pastures on the valley floor and the bullocks were up at Lassachalm, a short hour up a side valley where Franz’s sister and husband looked after them. Matilda loved it up here and relished the lack of television or mobile signal. They lived for the whole summer in bliss with nothing more than the romantic, idealized dairy tasks to perform in this idyllic spot. Matlida asked what time I wanted breakfast. Anytime from 0400 onwards made me realize I was on a farm and not at a guesthouse or mountain hut where I had to stuggle to get breakfast at 0700. I settled for breakfast at 0600 and went up to the cosy room, of which I think there were 3, all with 2 beds. It was a fascinating end to a great day. 

Day 022. Zauneralm to Preintalerhutte. 10 Km. 7 Hrs. 1420m up. 820m down. I went down from my large homely breakfast at 0600. The sun was already lighting up the higher west facing slopes above the valley. Matilda kept looking out of the window waiting for the milk cows and at the end of breakfast at 0630 all 11 arrived, walking down the track with their taut udders bulging with veins, and Franz following them trying, to seperate a non milking hiefer from them, who was wanting to gatecrash the milking and the special fodder. Matilda jumped up and went to prepare for her tasks. I came out 5 minutes later to see what was happening. 

All 11 milk cows were in the milking shed with suction cups attached to their udders. The extracted milk went up to a pipe at the ceiling and through into another room. The cows were all eating a special fodder which they loved and it must have enticed them out of the meadow and down to the alm track in the morning. They were very content and Franz was going along checking the cows and making sure they were well, feeling and patting them. He was proud of his milk cows and obviously loved them.

In the other room the milk dribbled into a machine which separated the cream from the rest of the milk. The cream poured into a stainless steel pail, and then when it was full it was emptied into a butter churner. Matilda made 8 kg of high quality butter every day, which she patted into shape, wrapped in grease proof paper and froze. The milk was then turned into cheese by adding rennet and letting it curdle. It was then heated, she used the term “cooked” by I dont think it was boiled. The small globules of cheese were then put into 3 moulds and pressed so all the whey was squeezed out. The round cheeses in these 3 moulds were then taken into the kitchen for about 4 days to start to mature, and then were taken into the cheese store room. Once there they would remain at 14 degrees for the rest of the summer and stay there all winter until they were ready in the spring. I guess each cheese weighed 5 kg so at the end of summer they would have about 1500 kg of cheese and 1000 kg of butter, all of it handmade, organic and high quality. 

It was a fascinating insight into their lives and I was very grateful they showed it to me. This was probably a centuries, if not millenia, old practice and it occured all of the the Northern Hemisphere of the Old World in many variations. Social scientists call it Transhumance, but to those involved it is an unquestioned tradition where the rich, snow-watered pastures of the summer mountains are best used without squandering the grasses and hay in the valley which is used for autumn and winter respectively. Perhaps the Siberian reindeer herders or Tajikistan nomads or Kurdish pastoralists of Asia would do it slightly differently to the Romanian shepherds or the Alpine pastoralists of Europe, but these differences would be neglible compared to the similarities. And just below our urban veneer of coffee shops, fine dining and German cars,  it is still lurking in the cultural DNA of every one of us. 

I left the idyllic alp at 0700 when it seemed Franz and Matilda’s day was half done and walked up the track having a mournful, sorry look back at the departing cabins. I could see the milk cows leaving the milking parlouur and returning down the lane. However, I was also full of joy knowing this still goes on and euphoric at having seen it. The clearing skies helped with my mood and I sauntered up through the forest feeling very comfortable until an hour later when I walked over the lip of a hanging valley into an alpine Shangri-la with a hidden valley ringing with clonking cow bells as the bullocks ate the lush grasses in the meadows surrounded by fir forest and very high, jagged, angular peaks full of snow fields. In the midst of this sat Lassachalm with its very pretty barn and absolutely idyllic cabin, with smoke slowly rising from the chimney. It was where Franz’s sister and her husband spent the summer. Just next to the barn and cabin was a hunting cabin probably used by different people in the autumn when the farmers and their animals had gone home. 

The track ended at the alm and now I was just following a well marked but barely used path as it went up the hillside on the northern flank of this side valley. It crossed a few rocky areas where houseleeks were flourishing in the stony soil, free from competition. With each hundred metres I climbed, the skies cleared even more until at least half was blue. The larch trees dominated all the way up the side of the valley, probably because it was quite dry and south facing so a bit arid. The alpenroses were still holding out from opening their flowers fully, perhaps a bit unsure of ther weather as it had not been great the last week. After a further hour’s climbing I reached the treeline beyond which not even the larch or Arrola pines would go and eached another small hut. Again it was probably a hunters cabin for the autumn hunting season for chamois, deer and possibily even Ibex. 

From the cabin the path took on more of an alpine character for the next few hours. It climbed easily to the top of the ridge on the north side of the valley, where there was a big cave with firewood stacked in it, but I should imagine questionable in a electrical storm. From the top of this ridge I could see down to Stummeralm far down on the floor of this side valley whch was also hanging above the main Klienersolker Obertal valley where I spent the night. However at the head of this valley was a jumble of high peaks and snowfields where I had to follow the faint path. It looked spectacular and alpine. 

From the ridge the path dropped slightly into a tarn strewn bowl where I had a good drink before starting up steep grassy slopes, small rocky outcrops and crossing occaional shallow snowfields for a good hour. The path treaded an ancient route through all the obstacles, perfected by centuries of knowledge gleaned from hunters and farmers. It avoided the steeper snowfields and outcrops and was very managable. After two hours it reached a very snowy plateau with some still snow covered lakes on it. My map and GPS indicated there was a route to the pass on the west called Trattenscharte, 2408m. However, I could only see very steep snowfields leading up here so was getting a bit worried. 

Suddenly out of the blue in this most isolated and snowy place a herd of sheep came bounding towards me. I was initially enchanted until about 15 of them surrounded me and started to acost me. They were mostly rams and they were large, perhaps 100 kg each. They were licking my hands with coarse tounges and I could feel their hard noses nudging my hips begging for morsels or salt. Had anyone of them got frustrated and butted me they would had floored me. I shouted, swung my arms and backed off, then swung my sticks to deter their advance. It seemed to work and I could retreat towards the steep snowfield I had to climb.

I had been looking at the snowfields to the pass from a forshortened view. That and the streaks down them from melting surface water made them look much steeper than they actually were. It took me little effort to climb the soft surface, kicking shallow steps where necessary until I reached the top half an hour later. In fact the snow covered all the boulders with a smooth even firm surface and I made good progress. I post holed a couple of times when I strayed to close to rocks which were sticking through and had allowed the thinner snow around them to melt more and become soft. 

At the pass at great view opened up to the SW over the ridges of the Niedre Tauern each increasing in height slightly. They looked a gnarly range with steep sides, deep valleys and many small lakes in alpine bowls. This part of the Niedere Tauern range is called the Schladminger Tauern and I will be following its serrated spine for about the next 4 days. Especially striking were the two high, very deep blue, alpine lakes to my south across the valley under the spire of Waldhorn, 2702m, one of the biggest of the many lofty peaks in the area. 

The descent down the SW side of the pass was glorious. High snowfields covered the boulders and I could contour round the bowl on snowfields until it was time to descent one of them down for 100 metres. I managed to link a few up and before I knew it I had dropped a couple of hundred metres to the partially uncovered Trattensee, a small alpine tarn, with a turquoise snowdrift submerged across one side. From Trattensee the path started to traverse down the hillside into the deep valley which I could not see into, but knew was there. Eventually the Preintaler Hutte appeared at the bottom of the valley surrounded by peaks on all sides except for the way down the valley below it. It took almost an hour to reach the Hutte down the small rocky path where I alway had to watch my step. Soon I was in the larch trees covering the steep hillside. Here the alpenrose were much more advanced and a few bushes were in their full glory with other soon to follow. Perhaps the near perfect blue sky was encouraging them. Bees were hovering over them with 2 or 3 to a bush. 

I crossed a log bridge over the stream which originated in the bowl with the two dark blue alpine lakes,  and also from the bowl I had descended, and reached the large hut. It was Sunday and the tables outside were busy with day trippers. Many smelt of perfume and had brightly coloured new shoes. The hosts, a bright, efficient, couple who worked well as a team where serving the day trippers but still had time to show me to my room. It was perfect with a single bed, hard mattress and single charging point. I went out to eat and order a macaroni cheese dish using the same traditional crumble Styrian cheese Matilda and Franz made back at their lovely alm. Later in the afternoon I escaped the sun and went inside to write in the large dinning room which could seat perhaps 80 guests. In the course of the afternoon many day trippers arrived and a few hikers arrived from the higher peaks and paths but only 10 spent the night.  

Day 023. Preintalerhutte to Landawirseehutte. 13 Km. 8 Hrs. 1830m up. 1510m down. Wolfgang and Marit who ran Preintalerhuttte did superb job. I noticed the previous evening how Wolfgang circulated round all his guests and go to know them. When he came to me I told him what I was doing and he said about every 5 years someone comes through the Niedere Tauern enroute to Monaco. Most people he said avoid it and go south. He said in a normal year I would find it difficult with extensive snowfields, but this year there was little snow so I would find the going much faster. Wolfgang should know as he was 50 years old and had been here virtually every summer all his life as his father was the hut warden before he took over. When I came to pay I noticed it was extremely cheap and pointed out he had forgotten the accomodation. He said he hadn’t forgotten but to consider it a gift to help me finish my journey. Yet another plus point for his hut was that he and Marit offered a buffet breakfast from 0600 onwards. I took advantage of this and was saying goodbye at 0645 for an early start on what promised to be a long day with over 1800 metres of ascent. 

The weather was not good though and the skies were grey and the clouds moving west to east. There was no blue sky at all and infact there was a real threat of rain. I headed up the to the south towards Klafferscharte and had barely gone a kilometre when the first rain fell. At least the mountains remained clear of mist and I could see them which was the main thing. I could put up with a bit of rain as long as the views remained. The route left the valley floor and started to climb up the hillside to the west towards the Klafferscharte pass. I could see 2 couples ahead of me who also took advantage of the early breakfast. One pair were very fast like fell runners. 

As I reached the Klafferscharte the mist which had been threating for the whole hours climb quickly enveloped the summits and then came down and enveloped everything. There was nothing to see and I was just about to walk across the Klafferkessel, a unique plateau with numerous tarns and a place of renouned beauty. I felt cheated,  but had to plug on anyway in the mist. Occasionally it would thin and I could see perhaps 200 metres but then the thick mist would return and I could only see 20. It was dissapointing.

However suddenly the mist cleared and I could see small lakes and tarns all around me and then the high jagged mountains beyond them. It was a spectacular landscape and quite a wet one as there were many snowfields feeding rivulets which flowed over the damp ground to soon find a tarn. Up ahead I could see one of the couples going up the rocky slope to Greifenbergscharte and within 20 minutes I was there too. It was a notch in an alpine ridge below the steep bulk of Greifenberg mountain itself. There was a steep marked descent on the otherside of this saddle but my route was to continue up to the summit of Greifenberg itself at 2618m, which was the highest I had been all trip.

The route to the top ascended perhaps 150 metres, some of which were marginally exposed and protected by good wire cables for 20-30 metres. At the summit there was a metal cross and a great view however the mist lingered on some of the tops including the massive steep bulk of Hochgolling, 2862m, which I was heading towards. I could see the Trattenscharte pass I had come over yesterday below me to the north but not the summits around it. It was a great view all in all but the overcast skies and high mist took the edge of it. I suppose it could have been much worse. 

The descent was also 1000 metres and was quite relentless. The small well marked path dropped down in a series of zig-zags with some quite steep short sections. The rain returned and then it cleared only to return again and my jacket was on and off frequuently. When it rained the path was a bit trickier especially the steeper sections. Wispy waterfalls cascaded down the crags beside the path as I entered the upper larches. Soon Gollinghutte appeared on the valley floor in the larch forest. As I neared it the rain became intense for 5 minutes but then it cleared and they was blue sky again. The final run down to the lodge was through Alpenrose which were almost all out and tainting the hillside crimson with their bright flowers.

At the lodge I had a quick meal as it was midday now and then prepared to head off on the second half of my day. It involved another large climb but this one was only 700 metres. I left the hut and went up the valley into what looked like a dead end with huge, near 1000 metre, rock faces encircling the valley floor. However, there was one way out up a steep stony couloir. At the bottom of the couloir and under the north face of the imposing Hochgolling was a meadow which was yellow with buttercups. It brightened up this otherwise grey day. On the meadow were 4 horses and 4 foals. The foals were very young and were running around playing with each other like spring lambs, despite the rain showers. It was a  joy to watch them with their unbounded energy. 

The climb up the couloir took nearly 2 hours. The path was often submerged by a snowfield and I had to work hard to slither up it. Once higher the path appeared and it was easy to follow. As I neared the top the mist cleared from most of the tops briefly but not Hochgolling which loomed dark and hidden above me. The bright yellow flowers were all over the hillside and where they formed clumps they were almost luminious on this dull day. I reached the top of the pass, Gollingscharte, 2326m, at the same time as two ladies who came up from the other side. We congratuated each other and had a 10 minute chat. We both had a downhill run to our various huts. 

I could see mine across on the otherside of the valley. First I had to come down a long snowfield. I was tentative at first but soon realized it was perfect and I almost ran down descending some 200 metres in 10 minutes. The remaining 400 metres to the valley floor were a bit more laboured as it was down a steeper hillside of turf and gravel with the occasional rocky outcrop. I eventually reached the track on the valley floor. I could see Landawirseehutte at the end of the track on the far side of the valley in a high alpine bowl at about 2000 metres. It was only a kilometre up the track but it poured the whole way. For the first time this trip my shorts and underpants were soaked and I should have put my overtrousers on but didn’t. 

Landawirsee hutte was small cosy hut with a roaring fire inside a huge ceramic stove. It was pumping out heat into dining room. The young, easing going staff made me feel welcome and then showed me my tiny simple room. Once I got out of my wet clothes I went down to the cosy dining room and wrote the blog for a couple of hours before supper. There was no internet here either so I was oblivious to what had happened in the world for the last 3-4 days and I had no idea anymore of what the weather bring.

Just as I finished two other younger guests arrived. They were given a room and then came down and were talking a lot to the staff. There was lots of laughter and animated converstion. After my supper of spinach dumplings in a sea of metled butter I tentatively introducted myself to the other guests, who were Leon and Sarah. Leon replied in fluent English with an Australian accent, and it tuurned out he was half Australian. He worked in a hut in Upper Austria in the limestone region near the Czech border. The laughter with the staff at Landawirseehutte before supper was the comparing problems and clients they both had to put up with. Leon was bright and well read so was very easy to talk to and we chatted for a good two hours before the shadows of the surrounding mountains consumed the last flashes on sunlight on the hills. It was perhaps the first time on this trip I was able to have a fluent chat in English, and also about topics which were not just practical or about the weather. With the big clay oven pumping out warmth into the characterful room with its log walls it was exactly the sort of evening one hopes for in a mountain hut.

Day 024. Landawirseehutte to Giglachseehutte. 12 Km. 6.5 Hrs. 960m up. 1040m down. It was a typical hut breakfast with muesli and milk, dark homemade bread and slices of cheese, and strong coffee, all at the usual time of 0700. It was a great morning with just a bit of retreating mist of the huge massive bulk of Hochgolling. Leon and Sarah were heading off in that direction to see if they wanted to give Hochgolling a go while I was going in the other direction. I said goodbye to the very friendly staff at the hut, swapped emails with Leon and set off at 0830, a bit later than I would have wanted, but I was assured it was a short day. Blue sky and high cloud were about 50/50. 

My first project was to climb the 200m high ridge to the north of the hut. This took me back over the Main Alpine Divide again to the northside. The view from the pass was good but not as alpine as I anticipated. Instead I was looking down a large valley to the north which headed down to the enourmous Ennstal valley below it. Ennstal valley drained the entire north side of the Niedere Tauren and was one of the giant valleys that dissected the mountan massifs of Austria. Beyond Ennstal valley I could see the light grey south face of a the lofty Dachstein Massif, with its near 3000m peaks. Behind me Hochgolling was now clear and slowly lightening up as more and more of the sun illuminated its west facing slope, previously in the shadow. 

It was a pleasant, easy hike down the otherside into the upper reaches of Obertal valley. As I descended the the path veered west and it took me into a much more impressive landscape which had previously eluded me. Obertal ended in a cirque of jagged peaks, where there were a couple of alms and the lodge of Kienprechthutte. Far below me a large herd of golden brown cows milled around on a large pasture which was now basking in the sun. I kept my height and contoured round high above them until I reached the track which led me to the hutte. It was only 1100 but I went in for some cheese and bread and a large glass of sparkling water.

The hutte was quite quaint with the usual terrace of orange stained and heavily varnished tables and benches on it south facing side. I prefered the shade so went it. There was a middle aged Austrian owner, a sheepish woman scurring around and not looking up, who could easily have been his subserviant wife and a young Nepali waiter. The owner was small in stature with a large belly. He had a hawkish features with lively eyes but his skin was swarthy and pockmarked and he looked as unwashed as his jeans. Here was Napoleon gone to seed. He was hovering over the Nepali waiter who looked like he was expecting another row. I ordered my bread, cheese and water in Nepali which confused Napoleon but delighted the waiter.

It seemed there were two ways to Giglachsee from here. However the one I had preplanned to do was seldom done, difficult and still covered in steep snowfiields. Whereas the other way over Rotmandisp was the normal way and Napoleon said it was the only option at the moment, so around midday I headed down for 5 minutes to the small tarn to start the climb up the south facing slope. The route zig-zagged up for about half an hour in the glorious sunshine. About half way up my footsteps disturbed another sandy coloured adder, about 60 cm long, who slithered off into the grass as I approached. As I climbed the view got more and more spectacular especially behind me to Hochgolling and the peaks all around it and eventually the large snowfield I came down yesterday. 

As I climbed higher I entered a sunny high bowl, strewn with rocks but also with alpine grasses and small rivulets of meltwater. I passed a small herd of 4 goats here. Two venerable elders, with beards like a Chinese sage, sat impassively looking at me chewing cud, while the two younger ones were pawing on their elders backs to goad them into some sort of defence plan. The sages had seen hikers before and carried on chewing cud. Just before   Krukekscharte there was a narrow 100m ledge to walk along which broke the monotony of the climb with a bit of adrenaline. 

Krukenscharte was a false top and from here the real top of Rotmandisp revealled itself. There was a large north facing bowl to cross to get to it, and it was largely covered in snow. There were many footprints across it and it was never steep. It took about half an hour to cross it and gain the orange rocks and gravel which made up this ridge. It was the highpoint of the day both literally and figuratively as by now the weather was perfect with not a cloud in the otherwise blue sky and just the slightest breeze. On the other side of the pass to the west lay a large alpine plateau with the two Giglachsee lakes on it. Beyond this plateau was a ridge of smaller mountains of bare grey rock. I was just about to head down when I saw a herd of about 25 sheep flaked out and spreadeagled on a grassy patch. They looked listless and drowsey from sunbathing. I gave them a berth to avoid disturbing them too much. 

The descent down the west side of Rotmandisp was easy on a wide zig-zagged path for nearly half an hour until I got to the plateau. Wide small streams welled up from springs and flowed across small stones and glacier buttercups were starting to grow along these very shallow watercourses. Soon their white blooms would be stream down the hillsides. I passed another flock of sheep. This time they were all huddled together as if trying to find shade in each other. Many were sitting with their heads on the ground like a sleeping dog. Before long I reached the larger of the two lakes. The route should have gone on the north side of them passing the modest Ignaz Mattis Hutte but I decided to follow the more level track on the south side of the lakes. There were many fish, I presumed trout, in the shallows, their shadows on the bottom paralleling their every move. Between the  lakes I continued on the track to the north side of the upper one and reached the Giglachseehutte at the end of it. 

It was a very lovely hut with a fantastic atmospheric dining room and a friendly young owner who also ran a hotel in the valley called the Hinkerhof. He had a good team here with a super manager and two sherpas from Namche Bazaar in Nepal. I felt very welcomed and was show the room straight away so I could change. There was hot water in the sink so I washed my clothes, armpits and feet, none of which had seen any hygiene since Etrachsee 5 days ago. I was the only guest so it was easy for me to write and then chat to the owner, his manager and the two Sherpas. The owner told me that this year the snow was exceptionally little for two reasons. Firstly it had been a warm winter with little snowfall and secondly there had been two Fohn winds from the Sahara which were not only warm, but carried a lot of brown sand dust which fell on the snow making it more susceptible to melting when the suns rays warmed it. He said in the 31 years since the hut was opened there have only been 4 such years, and usually he had to dig the hut entrance out on the 1st June when the plateau was still covered in deep snow and the lakes remained frozen well into June. The Sherpas spoke no German so they relished chatting with me. They did speak Sherpa, Nepali and English through. 

Day 025. Giglachseehutte to Sudwienerhutte. 20 Km. 7 Hrs. 890m up. 1060m down. I had a good nights sleep in my sleeping bag with the window wide open, so the light was pouring into the room when I woke at 0600. It had the promise of a beautiful day. The hut manager, Petzer, made me a fantastic breakfast. He was an exceptional manager and the owner, Gerhardt, was lucky to have such an able enthusiastic and hardworking guy to run his hut when he was in the valley.  

I set off at 0730 as everyone said it was a long day to Sudwienerhutte, although the statistics did not indicate it. The first task was to climb some 400 metres up to a pass, Akarscharte, 2315, which lay between the two locally well know peaks of Lungauer Kalkspitze and Steirische Kalkspitze, both about 2560m. The climb up to the pass was a delight. The view got better and better with each step as I climbed up above the lakes with the infant sun, still low in the horizon, just taking the chill off. The path went south initially to the Main Alpine Divide and then doubled back and went up a open valley to the pass. This open valley had all the features of a karst landscape with deep sinkholes, fissures and holes. There was a lot of snow in the small valley but I tried to keep to the path rather than go freestyle as some of the fissures were covered in snow and I could have fallen through like a rocky crevasse. 

When I got to the pass wth the easy Kalkspitze peaks on each side I was rewarded with perhaps the best view of the the trip so far. Behind me to the east was the beautiful plateau with the two lakes and then row upon row of jagged mountains I had wandered through for the last week. Ahead of me lay next weeks work with ridge after ridge until they rose up to the glaciated massifs of the Hohe Tauern, Zillertal and even Stubai in the distance. And all this under a faultless blue sky. On top of Petzer’s superb breakfast and strong coffee I was full of joy and energy. There were a few sheep at the pass also with whom I could share my euphoria.

The journey down the west side of the pass was quite easy but there was the odd section of steep gravel to negotiate, but some 2 hours after leaving Giglachseehutte I was going down through the dwarf pine to reach a lake on the saddle. On the far side of the lake was the Oberhutte lodge. At this saddle on the Alpine Divide a spring which gushed out of the ground and should have gone south, but was diverted so it flowed into the lake and then went north. It meant there was aerated water entering the lake and there were many fish rising in it. 

I had one more saddle to go over to get to the town of Obertauern where I planned to eat something. This saddle was quite shallow with just a 200m climb over nearly 3 km to Seekarscharte. It was really a high plateau with a few tarns and grassy areas. There were a few other hikers here, mostly day trippers as they all had big cameras or baby carriers. At the indiscernable pass I got a view down the various pistes of this winter resort to the town of Obertauern, beyond which the mountains started again with the high alpine triangular shaped Zehnerkarspitze. My preplanned route took me one way but I decided to go another looking at the lie of the land. 

I went far too far to the SE and ended up walking down pistes and then a tarmac road into the highest part of Obertauern right at the pass. Instead I should have headed SW and walked along a more gravelled section of road to enter Obertaurern much further down the road on the north side. It was not a big deal as it meant I had to walk perhaps an extra km. What it did mean through was I had to walk an extra km in Obertauern. There was nothing nice about Obertauern. It was a 2 km long strip of closed hotels each side of a road which would otherwise have been quite scenic. The hotels were all closed and there were vans outside each on with “…..technik” written on them. They were plumbers, sheetmetal workers, roofers, carpenters, beavering away in most of them. Most were modest with a slight nod towards Austrian or Alpine architecture but one, the Romanerhof, seemed to borrow some of its design features from Las Vagas. I walked past 30-40 hotels and large apartment complexes and not one was open, and there were no shops either. Obertauern was culturally bankrupt and existed solely for the ski season, when would spring into life with middleclass Europeans in headbands fawning over gluwein after a hard day on the piste. To add to the mediocrity of the eyesore the road was full of large, portly men, slightly beyond the last flushes of midlife, on motorbikes crossing the pass. I resented Obertauern for intruding into my idyllic Alpine sojourn and bringing out the cynic in me. After a kilometre of walking down the pavement I at last managed to escape on a track to the south and suddenly found myself in a meadow with cows. 

I followed the track through sparse larches with an abundance of wild flowers beneath then on the sunny forest floor. But Obertauern was not done yet and I soon came to Tauernhof, a large perfunctory hotel looking complex which was youth camp. Some 30 older teenage men, all of whom looked like they had been cloned from the cover of the Boys Own Manual – Aryan Edition, were either playing football, sand volley ball or setting up a slackline over a shallow swimming pool. They all had blond hair, cut short at the back and sides, but with a healthy quiff which bounced about as they lept. I hurried through and was soon back in the larch forest. 

The final 4 km were a delight. The track quickly became a footpath after another youth training camp which was dormant. The path contoured the hillside which must have had some limestone in it as the forest floor was teeming with flowers, especially the bright blue small gentians and geraniums. The larch continued all the way with the odd Arolla Pine or fir scattered here or there. There was the occasional narrow ledge which was protected with cables but this was overly cautious and probably installed for the benefit of the youth camps. Generally though the path seemed to follow a wide shelf and at the end even a small valley between the hillside and an old lateral morraine. I sauntered along here passing resting cattle chewing cud in the shade of the larch. To the north was a gentle view north down the Taurachtal valley with its tranquil pastures which the old,  portly men on motorbikes where trying their best to disrupt. 

As I neared the gentle pastoral saddle where I presumed the Sudwienerhutte was I saw many roofs through the trees. The smell of cattle, the pockmarked footpath, which their hooves had pummeled, and the deep clonk of cow bells also told me I was near an alm. A hundred meters further all was revealed with the lovely old Sudwienerhutte just across the saddle from 4-5 wooden buildings from an alm. There were perhaps 20 milk cows with full udders milling about them waiting to be milked. I later learnt that there were 25 milking cows and 180 nonmilking cows. They belonged to 8 different farmers with one doing the milking. He did not make cheese through but took the milk down to the valley to see each day. 

The hut was very lovely but I did not warm to the older Austrian/German couple running it. The first thing they said was what do you want to drink hoping for a profit of 4 euros on a 5 euro beer. I said I wanted to change first and settle down before anything. I made up for it later and ate and drank plently of profit into their large innkeepers wallet. I have noticed all the huts have a hard sell policy, especially with the hugely profitable drinks and it irks me. There were 2 Nepalis working in this lodge too, from Salleri in Solu-Khumbu, where a lot of people I know hail from. I was the only guest and the Nepalis made me Dahl-Bhat for my evening meal which was a nice change from the heavy dumpling meals.  

Day 026. Sudwienerhutte to Franz Fischer Hutte. 15 Km. 5.5 Hrs. 1100m up. 870m down.  I managed to get an early breakfast at 0600, which caused a bit of a stir with the hut warden. When one of the other guests heard, he also changed to 0600. We were both walking to the same place, Tappenkarseehutte, and it was about 8 hours away and thunderstorms were forecast for the early afternoon. There was absolutely no sign of anything untoward at 0600 and they sky was completely clear with the morning sun brightening up the east facing faces. Breakfast was a small buffet and was very good really. I paid, and was off by 0630 with the other hiker who spoke no English and did not understand my bad German about 10 minutes behind me. 

The farmer with 25 milk cows was already milking them in the barn. It was a different system to the beautiful Zauneralm, where Franz had them all 11 of his hooked up at the same time. Here the cows had to line up, and wait their turn. They went single file into slot in the side of the lovely new log barn where there were two milking apparatus. The farmer, who was quite young, hooked up 2 cows to the suction cups and then switched it on. The cows contently ate their special fooder as they were milked. The milk passed into tubes and then into a large stainless container which sat in a large car trailer. Beside the stainless steel container, which might also have had an motor to provide the suction  were 6-7 traditional large milk churns. I assumed once the milking was over the farmer would hitch up the trailer and take everything down to sell as milk. 

I watched for a bit and then headed off south up through the larch forest in the warm still air. The forest had a beautiful green vibrant hue to it as the sun shone at a low angle through the trees. It took a good half hour to walk up through the forest to the treeline, and it was a gentle saunter throught this lime rich landscape with lush meadows. It was a lovely start to the day. Far behind me I could see the older Austrian hiker well below me and thought he will never catch me.

At the top of the forest I walked onto the bare hillside. Unfortunately it was ruined by a line of pylons which also went up the same high valley and over the same pass, Tafelscharte, 2236m, where my route was going. It was not a particularly scenic valley to start with but this tipped it into a necessary walk to link better sections. Far down in the valley on the north side I could also see a motorway which went through a tunnel under the Tauern range right were I was walking. After a good hour in this valley I reached the pass and was rewarded with a much nicer view. The whole way up here I suspected the older Austrian was gaining on me and now I was sure of it. 

The next part of the day’s walk dropped down into the head of a large wide bowl. Perhaps 2-3 km across. There were the odd steep bits on loose gravel initially but after that the small rough path contoured round the head of the bowl. To the north was a ring of grey limestone rich cliffs with a jagged crest, and between the path and the base of the cliffs were huge screefields, which the jagged mountains were very slowly crumbling into with a geological speed. It was a very nice alpine section with great flowers and grassy knolls. It led me down to 3 large ugly concrete structures which were the ventilation shafts for the motorway deep in the mountain below me. Just as I left the bowl on its west side I passed through a wood of exceptionally old, wise Arolla Pines, some of which were centuries old. 

The path now contoured along the alpine hillside high above the upper reaches of the Zederhaustal valley. It was a beautiful walk across bare grassy hillside and the occasional larch copse which extended up to this altitude of about 1900m. The sun was cooler now as the sky was half full of cloud. Across the valley rose the very spectacular jagged grey block of Wiesseck, 2711m, The highest mountain in the area. It rose from a turquoise lake in the valley far below. Half way along this section I reached Jakobalm, which I had bookmarked for a pause, but it was closed and looked much more agricultural than touristic with its rickerty wooden thunderbox outside toilet. The small footpath now climbed, a bit vindictively I thought, through dwarf pines and grassy passages between them which were filled with flowers of all colours. The skies were getting dark enough now so the large trumpet gentians and many of the bright small saphire ones were starting to close up. High above me was Mosermandl, 2680m. I would not have wanted to be on its craggy bare ridges at the moment as the skies continued to darken. The older Austrian must have stopped for a pause and was a good 15 minutes behind me now. I passed two alpine tarns under the ramparts of Mosermandl and then saw the Franz Fischer Hutte. I thought I would go in here for a drink and cake before continueing for 2 hours to Tappenkarsee. 

As I reached the front door the very enthusiastic warden came bounding out. His English was perfect and he was immeadiately very likable and genuine. We chatted as we went in. He was a long distance hiker also and had done roughly the same trip as I was doing. He had also hiked in Nepal and a few other place I had. We had a lot in common. He introduced me to his wife who was also instantly likable. We had chatted for about 10 minutes when the older Austrian hiker arrived and as the hut warden was welcoming him the heavens opened and it started to rain violently with many flashes of lightning and thunderclaps. We had just made it and our 0600 breakfast was not in vain. 

The hut warden was called Tom and his wife Evelyn. With the rain pouring and their exceptional welcome and the likelihood of a great evenings conversation it was easy for them to persuade me to stay, and not continue the 2 hours to Tappenkarseehutte. Evelyn had ski-toured a lot in Norway and Tom had hiked a 6000 metre pass in Nepal and out came the phones to compare photos. They wanted to do the Great Himalaya Trail and were quizzing me about that. The staff at this hut were very cool also and quite multilingual. It was a no brainer I should stay here. The older Austrian it transpired was also on a long walk from his home in Graz to his sister’s in Bavaria, about a 6 week hike. Once the thunder and rain had passed, after an hour, the sky turned blue again he said he was continuing on, so we shock hands with a mutual understanding and bravado of the slightly competitive mornings hike, which given he was continuing I would say he won. 

To the west of the hut and outside the main windows were the beginings of the Hohe Tauern. You could see some of the heavily glaciated peaks on the Ankogel Group and then further to the west the Glockner Group. Tom showed me books from the hut library of the routes through it but they were essentially mountaineering routes and not wise for the solo hiker. I was essentially skirtly the southern flanks of this massif, barely flirting with its snowfields. 

I was already feeling very content with my descision to stay when Tom said he and Evelyn had just written a book. I expected it to be about Thru hiking,  or Wiet Wandertage in German, but no it was a vegan cookbook. In the 6 years Evelyn had been running the hut she had developed a vegan and vegetarian cuisine and the Franz Fischer Hutte was now entirely vegetarian. It was the first and only hut in Austria to be so and it was now becoming very popular with young hikers who would come just for the cuisine. I had really landed on my feet here. The thoughtfullness of the hosts, Tom and Evelyn, their cool crew and the vibrance from the gentle young hikers who were staying here put it ahead of any other hut I have stayed in. The very nice Petzel at Giglachseehutte, The kind hosts of Zauneralm, Matilda and Franz, and the intelligent and artistic Christine of Etrachsee all came in a close second but I felt I was with my kin at Franz Fischer Hutte.

I had my meal with a friendly young couple from Bavaria and Salzburg. We chatted while we waited for the meal and when it came it was well worth waiting for. I had vegetable curry with spelt rice and a nettle and spinach strudel. Desert was vanilla ice cream with pumpkin seed oil. The food was not just good, it was high quality restaurant food. Avant garde cuisine for which you would pay a fortune in a trendy city. Just a quick glance at the hut dining room would tell you it was special. Usually there are me and a couple of others at a mountain hut but this one was rammed full with young hikers.  

Day 027. Franz Fischer Hutte to Huttschlag. 18 Km. 6.5 Hrs. 830m up. 1820m down. Being an outdoorsman Tom and Evelyn started breakfast early at 0630. It was a superb buffet of carefully selected ingredients from the local area. I had had the last of the excellent coffee by 0700 and was ready to go. Saying goodbye to everyone took a while. Tom and Evelyn said they wanted to visit Scotland so hopefully we will keep in contact. It was a beautiful day when I set off in my shorts and sleeves rolled up as usual. 

Initially I went down to the alpine tarn just below the hut, which streams of scree tumbled into from the imposing heights of Rothorn. I then headed generally SW over a series of very shallow ridges until about half an hour later I reached another tarn called Ligsee. It still had large snow drifts along its south shore which overhung the water.  About 20 minutes later by a couple of small ponds the path divided. I did not notice it and was not paying attention to my GPS so carried on for another 20 minutes following the wrong track. By the time I noticed it was too late to turn back so I just headed up the ridge of steep grass reaching it a far bit to the south of Weissgrubenscharte. I had to work hard to get up some of the grassy slopes and I was tense like a coiled spring to stop myself slipping, which cost a lot of energy. Once on the ridge it was easy to follow it north for half a km to the pass I should have gone to initially. The whole time I had Mosermandl and the impressive peaks round it to the east and some of the glaciated giants of the Hohe Tauern to the west beyond the immediate valley. In this valley I could see the Tappenkarsee Hutte where I had a booking for the coming evening. 

It was an easy 400m descent to the hut which was beautifully sited at the end of a lake in a pastoral valley where horses and cattle grazed. I crossed the river at the bottom and went up to the hut to cancel my booking and squander the 20 Euro deposit I had made to alleviate my guilt at cancelling so late. The lady who was serving was fine about it, but I would have been pushing my luck to ask for the deposit back. 

From Tappenkarsee Hutte there are two ways over the ridge to the west and down to Huttschlag. The southern one looked slightly shorter so I took it, climbing up some 300 metres to reach the grassy Karteistorl. The view to the west and the Hohe Tauern was not much better here than it had been previously but I could look down the grassy slopes to the larch forest of the valley I had to go down next. There was a steady stream of people coming up the grassy slope, either to climb one of the easier peaks each side of Karteistorl pass or go over to Tappenkarsee Hutte. These were no day tripping motorists out for a country meal, but hard working hikers climbing 1000 metres under the sun. 

It did not take long until I was in the upper larch. They quickly grew in size as I descended and soon I could smell cattle and hear the clonk of the cow bells. There were luminous green fields of blueberry bushes amongst the larch which were going to produce an enormous crop in a few months. Down and down the path went until I was in the firs. It was the first time I had been in them since the lovely Zauneralm a week ago as the path through the Niedere Tauern stayed above 1800m all that time. After dropping some 500m I reached Karteisalm. It had a lovely old barn and cabin but both were in need of urgent rescue, otherwise they would be lost soon.There was also a cable tramway here but it looked old and in need of maintenance also.  

The footpath soon turned into a very rough steep track as it crashed down through the firs. I met someone here labouring up like an old misfiring tractor. He quizzed me about the alm and if it was busy and what the food was like. I thought he meant Tappenkarsee Hutte so I told him yes, but it was 3-4 hours away, but he meant Draugsteinalm. I pointed it out to him on the other side of the valley. He had just got out of his car and started walking in search of a schnitzel without any clue where he was going, like a lemming setting out across a glacier. 

When the rough track became a good forest track it did a large hairpin which I made a shortcut across. It was probably not worth it as it was a jungle lined, wet cow path. The last part of it involved climbing a barbed wire fence to cross a very steep meadow which somehow someone had managed to cut, despite it being nearly 45 degrees. It took a lot of effort to stop myself slipping down. As I reached the good forest track at the next bend it changed into a tarmac road with haylofts and farms beside it. The land was still very steep and it was all freshly cut for hay. 

I followed the tarmac road down past 5-6 bends, too wary about cutting corners on the steep land wondering how someone had cut it. I assumed it was with a hand scythe. Then I came across a fit young farmer cutting a meadow with a motorised scythe with wide wheels with spikes on. He was following it wearing a hefty pair of climbing boots which he was almost stamping into the hillside as if he were crossing a steep snowfield. I watched for a bit fascinated that he could control this machine on the steep ground but he seemed a master at it. 

Once down on the valley floor I had to find somewhere to stay. I had already cancelled the place I previously booked. However there was nothing in the first two hamlets of Karteis and Wolfau so I carried on to Huttschlag to try at the guesthouse I cancelled. The walk was never on the main valley road but followed a grassy track and then a side road on the south side of the valley. On the floor were beautiful meadows all with 2 or 3 old log haylofts in them. Old tractors were in the fields turning the grass over with mechanical rakes. On the north side of the valley was a huge vertical wall of rock perhaps 250 metres high and very threatening. I would not want to live under it, as some did. 

At last I came to the small, charming hamlet of Huttschlag, built on the south slope of the valley between the meadows on the valley floor and a knoll on which its white church proudly sat. Huttschlag was a cluster of some 40-50 buildings, farmhouses, chalets and a couple of guesthouses. I went to the one I originally booked and cancelled and incognito got a room there at half the original price. It was very nice and had a south facing balcony. I spent the rest of the afternoon washing my slightly revolting walking clothes and doing digital tasks like the blog.

Day 028. Huttschlag to Bad Gastein. 19 Km. 7 Hrs. 1270m up. 1170m down. I was woken at 0600 by a chorus of bells from the church’s belltower. It was the sensible time to rise in these summer months but it was almost done with the same vigour as a zealous iman would from a minaret. The Huettenwirt provided a great breakfast to round off their comfortable room and sunny balcony. I had warmed to the Toferer family who ran the historic guesthouse in the old building dating from 1520. It must have been the local landlords house as it was the oldest in the valley and had its own chapel.

I said goodbye at 0900 and stepped out into the almost blinding sun of a perfect day. I wondered through the small village of Huttschlag which seemed to have a few other guesthouses and host of wealthy chalet type villas. At the west end were two exceptional chalets which looked like they were once the holiday villas of royalty or aristocrats. High on the steep meadows above me local farmers were turning the hay on what was forecast to be a perfect drying day. It was a small village but it oozed charm and punched well above its weight in character. 

The route soon left the lane above the 2 salubrious villas and headed up across more steep meadows, whose grasses were in their prime for cutting. As I climbed I could see more and more of the Grossarltal valley stretching down to the north. The valley floor was filled with meadows and old farms which crept up the steep sides until the forests started. Soon I had climbed into these same fir forests, which were still cool. 

After nearly two hours I passed a small beautiful log chapel which had pews for about 12 people. It was in the forest beside the track and just before the gate to the extensive pastures around Harbachalm. There were a lot of cows at the lower end of the meadow, perhaps 50 in all. Many were sitting in the sun chewing cud. However there was constant movement from the cows with their tails swishing flies away and all their ears were constantly flapping. The flies must have been intense after this spell of warm weather. The alm looked like it had some milking equipment and I noticed quite a few of the cows had udders which were already filling after the morning’s milking. 

It was an easy hike up the rest of the 500 metres through the remainder of the firs and then through a band of larch before the open hillside took over. A lot of the areas where the larch petered out were covered in alpen rose which were now in full bloom. The bushes were just a bit sparse to give the hillside a magenta tint. There was a path at the Tafernscharte, 2091m, which went up Gamskarkogel, 2467m, where there was an Alpenverein Huette run by two women, who were friends of Tom and Evelyns. 

While the view back down the side valley to Huttschlag was good the view on the south side of the pass was sensational. At the bottom of the 1000m high slope of grass and then forest lay the town of Bad Gastein, which I was told was initially developed as a tourist resort in the times of the Habsburg monarchy, for them. It looked surprisingly big. However the main show was beyond where the slopes of the mountains rose up and up, well above me to the main jagged ridge of the Hohe Tauern. Glaciers filled many of the north facing cirques all the way from Hochalmspitze in the east to the GrossGlockner, the highest mountain in Austria, in the west. I was now entering the proper alpine mountains where everything was above 3000 metres as opposed to 2500 in the Niedere Tauern and 2000 in Sections One and Two. And this view was under a faultless blue sky.

The descent was long and quite hot. Once in the trees the path seemed to plateau out and it was a lovely saunter, but it was hardly losing any height. The path crossed meadows with great views to the Hohe Tauern mountains and then alternated back into the very large firs again. By the time I reached the pretty Poseralm I was parched so stopped for some water. Then the descent started in earnest as the path zig-zagged, often in small sections down the steep rocky hillside. There were many cables and iron posts but they were all unnecessary really as it was never that steep and exposed. I dont think many people would have bothered to use them. At last the path went into a meadow rising up from the floor of the gorgeous Kotschachtal valley and this led me down to the road. 

I did not have any booking but wanted to go on for another couple of km to Bad Gastein. It was just as well as there were many guesthouses here but they all looked like they had been abandoned at least 10 years ago. It was a shame as some were magnificent chalets. I took the high road for a good km and then a series of paths for another km until I approached the northern part of the town. There was much more below me down in the valley but I did not want to go down there just to climb back up again. The footpath signs seemed to indicate it was leading to the “Zentrum” of the town. A good half hour after arriving in the valley I was looking down into the town. 

There was the lower bit of chalets and even farms and this slowly rose up to a large bowl with a waterfall cascading down the middle of it. The town was mainly built around this bowl. The buildings mostly consisted of 5-8 storeys of large grand salubrious hotels. There were at least 20 of them. Some were very opulent like Hotel Europa and others were just condominiums with an alpine influence. I went past the quite modest church for such a town and then went onto the main street. I had expected it to be full of the big names in French and Italian fashion like some ritzy alpine towns. However, it was not and many of the shops were boarded up. Bad Gastein it seemed had lagged behind its peers like St Moritz and since the Hapsburgs and rather than go upmarket had slowly gone down market. It was still clinging on to some level of sophistication but I could see the class was ebbing out of the town. 

I walked through the centre and then climbed up the very steep streets which formed the sides of the bowl to reach the upper valley above the bowl. It did not improve especially around the train station where the souvenir shop was just full of tacky junk. I was tired and hot and looked for a family run guest house. I found one but there was no one about inside so I went to the next place. It was called the Barenhof and it had sunny balconies. Inside everybody was wearing covid masks and I should have twigged. I was given one which I put on so as not to rock the boat. The room price was more than I budgeted for but I now wanted a shower and to get cracking on the blog before the afternoon ebbed away. Once I had checked in I realized it was a hotel for the injured, infirm or otherwise unwell who sought the healing powers of the spring water. There were wheelchairs dotted about everywhere and all sorts of lifts to help the bariatric into the swimming pool. By the time I got to my room it was too late to escape.

I showered and then sat on the terrace with the smokers who were here for hotels’ Wellness Centre, and gazed down on Bad Gastein below me. I sat too long and missed the restaurant which closed at 1900 so I went down for 5 minutes to find a restaurant. It was not great and the outside seating was full of smokers. There was a heavily tattooed older man with a scruffy beard and drunks nose, flattened at the bridge due to a fight. He had been shopping in town and had bought a Burberry baseball hat. There was no way back for Bad Gastein once I spotted that. After a small serving I stole a spoon and went to the adjacent petrol station and got a few pots of yoghurt and returned to the infirmary. I had planned to spend a rest day here but there is nothing to tempt me so will push on first thing now, two days ahead of schedule. 

This brought my trip through the Niedere Tauern to a close. It had been a fantastic section, especially the more mountainous part from Etrachsee to Huttschlag. Those 7 days had been the best of the whole walk so far and that was despite the misty weather on at least 3 days. It was nice to immerse myself into a mountain environment and stay in the mountain lodges rather than have it compromised too much by places like Obertauern, and especially Bad Gastein. For the next week I will be skirting to the south of the glaciated mountains of the Hohe Tauern and only occasionally flirting with their snowfields.  

 

Section 03. 213 km. 95 Hours. 16110m up.  15760m down.

 

04 June to 18 June 2022.

 

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