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Travel Guide

In the Alps: Ötztal

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The German word “Hochtour” literally translates to “high tour” and the term is used to describe a mountaineering trek through the Alps that passes through snow or over a glacier. Last summer was my introduction to the Hochtour along the Berliner Höhenweg and climbing the Zugspitze, Germany’s tallest mountain. This summer’s adventure took me, my partner, and a friend into the Ötztal, home of Austria’s tallest mountains. This year, rather than the glacier being part of the adventure, the glacier was the adventure.

Day 1: Vent to Martin-Busch-Hütte

We began in the tiny town of Vent, following a trail that was steep immediately.

We walked toward glaciers in the distance, following the river that cut through the rock, witness to millions of years of time.

We passed an old shepherd’s hut, and we didn’t know it at the time, but we’d meet the shepherd and his dogs another day. The much more modern house we had passed earlier was his.

After a few hours, eight kilometers, and 600 meters of elevation, we reached the end of civilization and the beginning of our adventure. We would spend two nights at the Martin-Busch-Hütte, allowing us the luxury of leaving many of our belongings behind for our summit tour the following day. As the sign said, we were in the last spot for cell service.

The hut is located at 2,501 meters and after a snack and a shower, we went for a little walk to look around at the world we had entered.

Day 2: Similaun

Summer mountaineering requires an early start because summer in the Alps is thunderstorm season. You cannot be on a peak when lightening strikes, and this means being down low enough to avoid being the highest point anywhere. We check weather forecasts, watch the clouds, and rely on the hut personnel, locals with experience, to give us the best tips on how to time the path ahead. The rule of thumb is to start early.

The way ahead was rocky and climbed steadily. We passed a sign showing the way to the archeological site where 5,300-year-old Ötzi the Iceman was found in 1991, which I’d love to go back to visit someday. On this day, there was a mountain to climb.

To reach the summit of the Similaun at 3,606m, we would gain almost 1,100 meters of elevation. The effect this has on the body is not be underestimated, and we were all grateful for having included jogging in our training. Although I can’t say I felt it, it must have helped! We paused when we reached the Similaun Hütte just over the border in Italy and gazed at what awaited us.

At the edge of the glacier, we prepared: Harness and helmet on; pre-organized carabiners, slings, rescue gear, ice screw attached to harness; crampons on; ice axe in hand; butterfly knots in the rope and figure-eights clipped to us. As the most experienced, my partner went last to perform any needed rescue manoeuvres should one of us fall into a crevasse. Based on negotiation, I went first to follow tracks and find the way.

Breathing was difficult. The thighs burned. I couldn’t always find the way leading us away from crevasses and up the glacier, and we took a slight deviation from the proper way when fear of the unknown got to me. Our friend in the middle of our rope said that she was using a mantra to put one foot in front of the other, but my mind had gone in the opposite direction. As we climbed, I was already in a mindset of not wanting to be there, which is the primary reason that I don’t know if I will do this type of mountaineering again.

As the clouds rolled in, we reached the end of the glacier and the rock scramble along the mountain ridge began. This is the part I enjoyed because this is where I could feel my body again – I am a climber, after all. We reached summit and looked down into Austria on one side and Italy on the other.

We heard a clap of thunder after we had already begun our descent. The sky darkened as we returned to our gear on the glacier and we ran. This is is the part where, like my friends, I should have thought, “Wow, now we’re really mountaineers!” But the negative mindset from before set in. As the hail began, which turned to rain as we descended, that’s not where my mind was.

The weather changes quickly in the Alps and the rain had let up by the time we reached the Similaun Hütte and stepped inside to take stock of ourselves. Not having had time to put raincovers over our backpacks, everything was soaked. As the sun began to shine, we heard another clap of thunder from above, but this time we knew – it was one weather front meeting another rather than the sign of a coming thunderstorm.

Later on, I reflected that had the weather held during our descent, I probably wouldn’t have fallen apart. The negative film running through my head would have faded and been replaced by the accomplishment of reaching 3,606 meters. But I know how the brain works, and we remember the peak and the end of experiences. I’ve dreamt every night since of being on that mountain, and my dream self has reacted differently, more bravely, more calmly. The sun shines in my dream. My actual self was mentally crushed.

It was a relief to reach the Martin-Busch-Hütte and lay our things out to dry. We talked over weather, the day, and conditions with the men sharing our room and marvelled at the weather cells in the Alps. Just on the other side of the valley, they hadn’t had rain at all.

Day 3: Martin-Busch-Hütte to Breslauer Hütte

The purpose of the next day was to reach our second and final hut of this trip, the Breslauer Hütte located at the foot of Austria’s second-tallest mountain, the Wildspitze. From the beginning, the Wildspitze at 3,768 meters had been the goal. However, because of my experience the day before and the not-so-promising weather forecast, we decided a change of plans was in order.

We left the Martin-Busch-Hütte in the rain, which is no problem when you’re prepared for it. The landscape was dreamy as we descended, kissed by clouds.

The sun had come out by the time our ascent began with over 900 meters in elevation gain comprising the last few kilometers. We passed gazing cattle . . .

. . . stopped to rest on a plateau surrounded by peaks . . .

. . . and made our way along steep ridges, past more peaceful cattle, through rocky terrain that told of mountains from long ago, and across a river. Some of this had been glacier once.

It was a long way up to the Breslauer Hütte, and hard going. We covered 12 kilometers that day, and, upon reaching 2,844 meters, we certainly felt it.

That evening, we watched the sunset.

Day 4: Breslauer Hütte to Vent

The following morning began with a strange feeling. The clientele of the Breslauer Hütte could be easily divided into two groups – mountaineers and hikers. As we decided not to attempt the Wildspitze this time (my friends have now bookmarked it for the future), we were clearly in the hiking group, despite having the gear and experience of the mountaineers. We had come to this place with a purpose and were leaving it behind.

It wasn’t only because of me but it also wasn’t not because of me that we changed the plan. I’m grateful that my friends made the decision that they did, and I will be cheering for them when they head back there next time. But that didn’t prevent me from feeling, as they were, a sense of loss.

Nevertheless, we enjoyed the easy scramble up to Wildes Mannle, a 3,023 meter peak nearby.

We crossed the river we’d seen the following day . . .

. . . and climbed the ridge to the summit, looking over into the distance where we knew the Wildspitze was.

From there, we began our descent, again past the cows . . .

. . . and into a green oasis, welcome after the rocky terrain a thousand meters above.

With the challenges of ascending behind us, I took the opportunity to photograph the alpine flowers that guided us along the way.

Upon reaching civilization, we crossed a bridge over the river . . .

. . . walked past one last herd of grazing horses . . .

. . . and looked in the direction of the Wildspitze again, invisible now.

This was not my mountain to climb, but I have no doubt that my friends will climb it one day. If I’ve learned any lesson, it is this: If one cannot go calmly and steadily, one need not go at all. The purpose is to be there, not to get there.

And if I can focus on the being rather than the doing , then I have learned something indeed.

Travel Guide

In the Alps: Berliner Höhenweg

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The German word “Hochtour” literally translates to “high tour” and the term is used to describe a trek through the Alps that passes through snow or over a glacier. As it’s been in Europe where I’ve become involved in mountaineering, I don’t know if there’s a single English word for this concept. I also don’t know how trekking through the Alps compares to multi-day trekking in North America, where I’m from. But I do know that my first Hochtour, accompanied by my partner and two girlfriends, left me hungry for more.

Based on available time and building in a buffer for the weather (summer is thunderstorm season in the Alps), we decided on a four-day trek along the Berliner Höhenweg, a famous nine-day route in the Zillertal Alps in Austria. Based on a weather report from friends who were in the area at the beginning of June, we changed some of our packing to include essentials for snow, which had come late and heavy. We added an ice axe, crampons, trekking poles, climbing harnesses, carabiners, and a rope; all of these items are needed to cross a glacier (stay tuned for a blog post!) and all could be helpful in snow. In the best case, we wouldn’t need anything but the crampons and trekking poles, but preparation is key.

Day 1: Breitlahner to Berliner Hütte

Our Hochtour began with a warm-up hike from the long-term parking lot at the Breitlahner restaurant and guesthouse to the Berliner Hütte, the first of the guesthouses (“Hütte” means “hut” but that has a different connotation in English) to be built in the Zillertal Alps. We ascended 780 meters in just over 9 kilometers, arriving shortly before the rain.

As we would quickly learn, we moved rather more slowly than the posted time estimates. This was likely due to inexperience within our group, but we also suspected that the estimated times described perfect conditions without backpacks. (Or so we told ourselves.)

The way led us past rivers and waterfalls . . .

. . . through fields of flowers, including our only wild edelweiss right at the Berliner Hütte . . .

. . . and alongside grazing cattle, whose gently tinkling bells accompanied us long before and after the cattle themselves were in view . . .

We were, of course, surrounded the whole time by mountains . . .

. . . and passed a World War I memorial on the way dedicated to the alpine club members who had died in the war.

This was the first of many memorials that we passed along our route, constant reminders that the mountains are not a playground.

Ready for a celebratory radler, a mixture of beer and lemonade known in the UK as a shandy, and a shot of Zirbe, a liquor made from a type of pine found in the Alps region, we reached the Berliner Hütte at 2,042 meters.

From here we could see where we’d be going next. We turned in early after a hearty dinner and a few rounds of cards; the following day would be a big one.

Day 2: Berliner Hütte – Furtschaglhaus

We woke to rain that came in waves over the course of the day, during which we would ascend 1,060 meters, descend 810 meters, and cover close to 9 kilometers.

For a variety of reasons, the way took us much too long. We were lucky that the original forecast calling for thunderstorms had changed, but the rain that blew in instead was nasty enough, and it was there that I realized I needed a new rain coat.

We began following the trail markers over sheets of rock that gave way to a trail that wound through scrubby trees and bushes marking the end of the tree line. The tiny alpine flowers provided pops of colour through the fog.

It wasn’t long before we needed to cross a river, one that is not always as high as it was when we were there. We looked for the most accessible points in the direction of the bridge that we very much needed.

Shortly thereafter, the rain cleared and we were greeted first by waterfalls, mystical as the clouds pulled away to reveal mountains . . .

. . . and then by goats sharing our path.

The mountains grew even more imposing . . .

. . . and we soon encountered the conditions that would be with us for the coming hours. We continued over rocks and boulders as the clouds came and went . . .

. . . and reached the first of the patches of snow that we would cross, all of which were larger and deeper than usual at this time of year. As we continued and the conditions became more technically challenging, crampons and trekking poles would prove their worth many times over. The winter child in me was delighted.

It started to rain again when we exited the largest of the snow fields so far and began the scramble in the direction of our planned summit. Unable to see or feel my fingers as I scrambled alone over jagged and unpredictable rock, voices of my friends somewhere below me, I had a moment of panic unlike anything I’d experienced before. It was neither graceful nor collected, but I continued to move until I reached a point where I didn’t know how to go further. A friend reached me and, feeling immediately better for not being alone, we pressed on together. This experience stayed with me for the rest of our trip and I handled myself much better on a different mountain later on (stay tuned!). There is a first time for everything and I know why I got scared. I also know why, in retrospect, I didn’t need to be. The key, at least for me, is working with the mountain rather than fighting against it. And this is something I had to learn.

The rain was kind enough to stop for a while as we reached the summit of Schönbichler Horn at 3,133 meters. Exhausted from the efforts of the previous hours, which had us well behind schedule but clearly past the threat of thunderstorms, we did not linger long, aware of how much farther we had to go.

We would find ourselves in snow multiple times over the next several hours, using crampons only when absolutely required in an effort to save time. We were cold and tired, the rain became relentless, and the difficulties within the group became more apparent.

Descending to Furtschaglhaus at 2,295 meters took much longer than it should have and I have never been more grateful for a hot shower. Those three glorious minutes were our longest shower of the trip and worth every cent.

Day 3: Furtschaglhaus to Olpererhütte

In comparison to the previous day, our path to the Olpererhütte was far less physically demanding. At over 10.5 kilometers, this was our longest day yet, but with only a 510 meter descent and 610 meter ascent. The five flat kilometers in the middle of the route followed the Schlegeis Reservoir, and we were looking forward to a little break.

Although we hadn’t had the energy to notice, the landscape had changed during our descent the day before. We were out of fields of snow and jagged stone and back to grass, gentle rocks, flowers, and waterfalls.

As when we first began, we passed grazing cattle as we made our way down to the Schlegeis Reservoir.

The route is beloved for day hikes as well as being part of the Berliner Höhenweg, and I can understand why. The bright flowers and the reservoir in bright blue with the mountains all around are rather photogenic.

However, the change of landscape came in stark contrast to the challenging solitude of being deep in the mountains. After some time on a gravel path with a heavy backpack, passing day hikers in sneakers and sandals, I was looking forward to being back “up there” with people who understood what we were doing and why we were doing it.

The ascent to the Olpererhütte, while full of pretty views . . .

. . . comprised of a clear path that zig-zagged along the side of the mountain. There was no way-finding using markers, no need to stop and think before putting one foot in front of the other. And because of its straightforwardness, it was busy and crowded. While not a path that I’d recommend doing in sandals, there were plenty of hikers doing just that. Choosing strategic points to get by them was about as challenging as it got, and we reached the Olpererhütte rather uninspired.

But being greeted by the resident animals was charming and it was comfortable to sit outside bundled up after the steep walk up to 2,389 meters.

The atmosphere of the hut changed after the day hikers left and the rest of us settled down to dinner, drinks, and cards. Feeling refreshed after our easy day, we spent our last night in the mountains in laughter.

Day 4: Olpererhütte to Breitlahner

We had planned our route so that we could walk back down to where we’d parked without the need for buses or trains. At slightly over 10.5 kilometers, this meant a 270 meter ascent and then a huge descent of 1,390 meters. Once again, we were very grateful for the trekking poles. We would pass another hut, Friesenberghaus, on the way.

The day started scrambling over boulders and small snow fields, aspects of a Hochtour to which we had become accustomed and that I really enjoyed. There’s an element of playfulness amidst the need to be sure-footed and deliberate.

As usual, we were greeted by cows. This time, though, they seemed to enjoy the sweeping vistas as much as we did. Perhaps it is not only humans who feel tiny and inconsequential when finding themselves in so much mighty, majestic nature.

After a round of steep snow fields, the landscape began to change yet again and alpine flowers appeared.

We saw Friesenberghaus before we reached it, picking our way down through particularly steep sections of snow, several of which had us first ascending, which was rather easier.

We stopped for a bowl of soup to get out of the rain that had picked up. It was interesting to note the bit of history on the wall, thanking the members of the Berlin section of the alpine club for their resistance against the exclusion of Jewish members from the German and Austrian alpine clubs. There is little place for exclusion in the mountains.

I also appreciated the sense of humour at Frisenberghaus in which a stuffed animal was employed as a weather station.

When Joachim . . .
Dry – Sun
Cries – Rain
White – Snow
Dances – Wind
Invisible – Fog
Hops – Earthquake
Doubles – Alcohol
Speaks – LSD

Checking our watches, we left before the rain stopped. We weren’t the quickest and had a ways to go.

The way continued to grow grassier as it wandered over rocks and streams. Flowers continued to appear and then scrubby bushes and trees. The air grew more humid and the clouds floated upward.

The final descent was long and we knew we were nearly there when our way headed directly through the trees. The mountains were above us again and we were too far from where we’d started to see where we’d been. Our trekking poles showed good signs of wear by now.

We spent one more night together to recover. We cooked a carbohydrate-heavy meal, drank wine, showered for free without looking at the time. We laughed and shared photos and congratulated one another.

We had been in the mountains, had experienced the rhythms of weather, the physical and emotional cycles of a body under strain, the atmosphere of a guesthouse filled with people who love mountaineering. We had been in the mountains, swept away, taken in, and in awe. Mountains are truly the most beautiful place.

And as glad as I was for a real bed in a room shared with only one person, I missed it immediately.

“The mountains are calling and I must go.” -John Muir

Travel Guide

Travel Guide: Salzburg, Vienna, Leoben

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Before dawn on New Year’s Day after a week in Switzerland, my parents and I took the train from Zurich to Salzburg. The trip itself was beautiful and everything I had hoped train travel through Europe would be. We journeyed through mountains, hills, trees and through increasing amounts of snow, but there was sunshine and blue skies the whole way.

Salzburg

I really, really enjoyed our afternoon in Salzburg and would have loved more time there to walk up to the Hohensalzburg Fortress, or drive to Schloss Hellbrunn in the countryside. But now I have a reason to go back!

Salzburg was surrounded by water and, surprisingly to me, great stone cliffs that seemed to come up out of nowhere when we were walking through the old town.

As before, the walk through the old town took us past beautifully painted buildings and intricate architecture that just don’t exist anymore. I know that real people don’t live in these old towns, but they certainly are pretty. The narrow streets leading to large open squares in Salzburg are hilly, which means that church towers and other buildings just sort of peek out at you around corners.

But there are other parts of Salzburg that remind you that this is a real place where people live and I was glad to see that, too.

Mozart made his home in Salzburg and we visited Mozart Geburtshaus, Mozart’s birthplace, which is considered the more informative of the two Mozart houses. We learned a great deal about Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, his family (including a very talented sister!), and Austrian musical tradition and I was really impressed with the collection of artifacts and family papers. Music is a really important part of heritage here and classical music was playing through speakers throughout the old town in Salzburg, prompting a surprising amount of waltzing in the streets and in the squares. I kept expecting to see a live orchestra around each corner!

Like we’d seen across Switzerland, there were little Christmas markets and stands set up across the city.

We also stopped by the university church . . .

. . . and the Dom zu Salzburg, where we stopped to visit the church and to drink glühwein.

Vienna

The next morning was equally bright and sunny and we left fairly early for Vienna. We could have easily stayed another day in Salzburg and left for Vienna that night but something told me I’d want the time in Vienna. This turned out to be accurate and again, I really need to go back!

Vienna is beautiful. It’s beautiful and grand and opulent with wide streets and specially painted bike lanes. As soon as we saw the bike lanes next to the opera house, I knew that I would like Vienna very, very much. It was pretty at night, too.

The first thing we did, however, was walk a little ways out of the old town to the Naschmarkt, Vienna’s largest food market. It’s part restaurants . . .

. . . and part food stalls . . .

. . . and part other goods.

My family loves markets and food, and we ate and drank and tasted and smelled for a good couple hours. I can only imagine how much busier it would have been on the weekend when the flea market is open, but I was really glad to have the chance to see some of the art painted on the closed stall fronts.

From there, we basically followed the streets brightly lit by Christmas lights. We wandered into a couple of Christmas markets and did some window shopping before stopping at the Austrian National Library. To warm up, we joined the long queue waiting to get inside. We were greeted by everything that creates the idea of a library – wooden bookshelves with the upper levels accessible by ladders, old books, vaulted painted ceilings. It was still cold inside, likely to keep the books in good condition, but so pretty that it didn’t matter.

We were also lucky to see an exhibit of Beethoven’s personal papers, including the program and score of Beethoven’s only opera, Fidelio, which I have actually seen!

The next morning we followed a guided walk around Old Vienna and it took us down narrow, quiet streets to tiny squares with old, quiet churches.

There were also busy shopping streets and grand squares with opulent buildings and statues.

My dad and I climbed one of the towers of St. Stephen’s Cathedral and although it was cloudy, I was glad to see the view of Vienna from above. My spatial skills are mediocre so I appreciate actually being able to see the expanse of a city.

Fun fact: Vienna used to be a walled city! Our walking tour took us past the remnants of the old city walls.

This was the coldest day we’d had (it had actually snowed!) and we decided to spend the afternoon indoors. Along with many other visitors, we took shelter in the Leopold Museum to learn about Viennese art of the 1900s. The exhibition included painting, sculpture, furniture, and jewellery and I enjoyed learning about artists who were completely new to me. I also didn’t know anything about the impact World War I had had on Vienna; I think it’s important to understand the place where you are and I was glad for the opportunity to learn more about it. The importance of art was clear outside of the museum, as well.

That evening we went to a concert in St. Charles Church in which we were treated to a performance of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and what I can only assume were other works by Vivaldi because nothing was actually explained. An opera singer featured for certain parts of the performance, too. The church was beautiful but one thing that didn’t occur to me when I bought tickets is that churches are not heated. I learned an important lesson when the ushers passed out blankets at the door!

Leoben

Mum and Dad flew back to Toronto the next day and I left Vienna to pick up the car I’d be driving for the next week. This was the point at which I had no plans. I knew where I’d be staying for the first two nights but the rest of the week was wide open and I was really excited for the adventure.

For example, I thought it might be fun to try cross-country skiing for the first time and planned to stay near a national park. The lack of snow meant I would hike instead, after getting over the initial delightful surprise of finding myself at a bed-and-breakfast up a goat track run by an elderly couple in what I think is their farmhouse. My German was almost as good as their English but everything went just fine.

Going from grand Vienna to the country was a drastic change but I was so glad to experience a small Austrian town.

I’ve been in a number of odd towns over time and Leoben certainly fit. It appeared that part of the old town had been torn down and a multiplex had been built instead to comprise the town’s entertainment. It contains a kebab shop, pizzeria that doubles as a bar, sushi restaurant, and movie theatre. Other than that, the town has five different grocery chains, a euro shop, three discount clothing stores, a couple furniture stores, a café/bar that did not sell food, and a sex shop. Gösser beer operations are located in Leoben, too. An adventure indeed!

The drizzle let up by the next morning, perfect weather for a drive to Slovenia!