But as for the hour, feels like I’m reaching for the peak of sours… They say, holidays will come and go, and when it hits you, you know it happened. Something inexplicable and undiscovered, something in the shades that I can take into the light… And something kind of silly I can find a meaning in and wake up to at night – some pretty sight.
[Inspired by Stray Colors / Whiskey Sour and with fantastic view on the Brecherspitz]
We count the 15th year of alumni encounters, the big revival of the best controlling team ever. This time, we come together on top of the Pfänder.
The tough ones go up and enjoy the physical challenge. The rest will join later, wasting not a single drop of sweat when using the cable car.
The simple path leads up through shady forest with wonderful views over the Bodensee every now and then. After all, we reach the Pfänder peak after 1:15h, all easy and stressless.
Waiting for the rest of the team is the hard part. We linger around the peak’s cross as long as we can, then settle down on the terrace and start to celebrate our yearly reunion.
Eventually, the other colleagues make it, and we can start discussing professional topics. Strange enough, whenever I bring up the question of the partial reflexion of photons on H2O molecules, no vivid exchange enfolds…
With the squeeze of delayed arrival and the upcoming evening agenda, we take a final picture and start our descent in time.
The main part of our meeting takes place at Ravensburg – a cute, still a bit boring city, about half an hour from the lake’s shore. Lucky us, the restaurant scene has added Syrlin Speisenwelt with the wonderful Kostbar just recently. Food and wine are excellent and the mood is as good as ever. Five thirty-somethings share professional and personal interest as well as a certain sense for enjoyment. If only they had a Glitzerkeller or Stereobar in Ravensburg, that would bring us back to early years…
In the end, we are safe and – relatively – early back at the hotel. The good thing of a closed-down downtown and an obstructive barkeeper is the reasonable, low level of alcohol (a big “Thank you!” goes to Kai, the non-profit guy from the Aurum-Bar).
Hector und ich, das ist eine dieser ganz großen Liebesgeschichten. Über innere Werte, äußeren Glanz und die seltene Kombination von Freiheit und Geborgenheit.
Seit nunmehr 8 Jahren rollen wir grundsätzlich zu selten und zu wenig durch Europa, ständig gelobt einer von uns Besserung, immer wieder schaffen wir es und sind – beglückt. Glück, selbstgemacht, nur durch Einsteigen & Losfahren.
Zuletzt in Südtirol, als ganz München in einer 11°-Dauerregen-Depression versank und wir auf der Südseite des Brenners die Sonne einfingen. Und nun am Sylvensteinsee, auf dem rudimentär einfachen und gerade deshalb so schönen Nachtparkplatz.
Nur 75 Minuten von zu Hause sucht sich mein Lieblingsbus ein schattiges Plätzchen unter den Bäumen. Dass der Parkscheinautomat nur Bargeld nimmt – geschenkt. Dass sich eine von zwei Insassen im Restaurant irrt – ein Gewinn! Wer ahnt denn, dass es wenige Meter neben dem Gasthaus „Jäger vom Fall“ auch noch ein Gasthaus „Faller Hof“ gibt. Am Ende stellt sich heraus, dass wir bestens versorgt sind. Für Yoga am Seeufer bleibt zwar keine Zeit mehr, aber den kitschigsten aller Sonnenuntergänge zelebrieren wir ausgiebig.
Der Sylvenstein-Stellplatz ist perfekt für einen spontanen Urlaubsabend. Einsam gelegen, umgeben vom Fjord-artigen Stausee und dunklen Wäldern – jenseits der Natur gibt es hier nicht viel. Eine eher mittelmäßige Toilette und zwei (2!) Gasthäuser. Keine Gartenzwerge, keine Dauercamper, keine Hecken-Parzellen – stattdessen einen prächtigen Sternenhimmel, dort, wo sich die Bäume lichten.
Nach dem Essen ergeben sich die Handgriffe von allein: Einer packt die Weinflasche ein, die andere zwei Becher, und fünf Minuten später sitzen wir am Seeufer mit Blick nach Westen. Das Licht, die Landschaft, der Mond, ein lautlos vorbeiziehendes Ruderboot – es braucht keine angehäuften, weltlichen Güter, um das zu genießen. Nur einen Campingbus.
Am nächsten Morgen wird es um 6 Uhr langsam hell. Schnell Zähne putzen, Espresso kochen, und los geht es zur anderen Seite der Landzunge. Sonnenaufgang, Nebelschwaden und ein Wald, wie ihn Bob Ross nicht schöner hätte malen können, begleiten uns durch unseren Kaffee.
Am Ende sind wir um 8:30h zurück im Alltag. Mit einer guten Portion Glückserlebnis in den Knochen und einem immer einsatzbereiten Bus vor der Tür.
Hector and me, it is one of those rare love stories. When shimmering silver lack meets inner qualities, with the power to combine my home-sweet-home with the air of freedom.
Common sense is that the relation travel vs. work is not yet optimized. Yet, whenever Hector hits the road, anything but a wide smile on my face is just impossible.
Recently, the South side of the Alps has been the perfect micro-holiday for a weekend. Now, it is about a holiday evening with nothing more – or less – than a wonderful sundown in stunning nature.
A mere 75 minutes from home, Hector settles in for the night on my favourite camper parking Sylvenstein. Pushing positive karma, I help out a foreign guy with the coins he needs for the overnight-parking ticket. This being set, we sneak in the restaurant around the corner right in time before they close the kitchen. It is only during our delicious dinner when we realize that we are not seated at “Jäger vom Fall”, but rather at “Faller Hof”. Who would have guessed that a five-souls-village may count more than one restaurant…
Thanks to early dinner, our timing is perfect for today’s sunset. Beside the lack of fancy gadgets, one of the best aspects of this camper parking is the location: Alps, the dammed Isar-river and the Sylvenstein lake, all surrounded by dark forests in a Bob Ross-painted style. Sounds kitschy – and proved just right.
Useless to look for reasonable activities around here. Best you can do is find yourself a tree trunk at the shore, perhaps accompanied with a glass of wine and a camera. Wait and see and enjoy: The light. The landscape. The moon. The stars. No need for expensive toys or posh outfits – a camper at your side is all it takes.
The next morning repeats the show, now with focus to the East. Wafts of mist add a mystic touch to the scenery while the rest is very much same, same, but different. When we reach the bottom of our coffee cups, it is time to turn our backs to the wonderful micro holiday and get back to work.
Hector is through with it: parked eternally, enduring rain and cold and never-ever used for spontaneous trips. For the 4th time in a row, 11°C and liters of rain cross my camping plans.
Solution: Change the destination!
2h 45 are all it takes. Before the night settles in, we unpack the mountain bikes, get out the chairs and the table and enjoy outdoor dinner with a bit of wine and much of a view.
Other than Munich, the next morning in Klausen starts with blue skies, warm sun and a blocked bathroom door. The detail with the door is a bit disturbing. Not that I need Hector’s tiny bathroom when situated on a comfy campsite, but almost everything is stored in there: toothbrush, MTB equipment, sunscreen.
While others may face anything as boring as simple breakfast, we have a challenge ahead: analyze the function of Hector’s lockers, try to dismantle the blocking padlock, try and try and try to open this stubborn door. A half cup of coffee later, a final, frustrated slam at the door does the trick and it clicks open. The entire crew is happy to see me head off for the lavatory, toothbrush at hand.
Plan of the day is a MTB tour from Klausen to Brixen. While the landscape is pretty and the weather just fine, I realize that today’s company is sort of a tour guide for the vertical.
We come from steep via very steep to incredibly steep gradient. Sweating and swearing, I push my bike uphill. I learn the hard way that a 19% slope is beyond cycling… My smile may have become a bit forced along the way, but at least I look sporty as hell.
In Feldthurns (Velturno), we use the inviting Gartencafé Tonig Bar for a break. Afterwards, the upcoming 20km of the tour are a piece of cake: passing by the castle, then down on serpentine roads, and finally following the river until we reach Klausen.
The rest of the day is sunny, relaxed and full of wonderful food. Life can be sweet on a holiday weekend!
After a gourmet evening at Walther von der Vogelweide, we are up for another day at Klausen. Hector agrees to wait on the bus parking while the rest of us walks up to the Sabiona Monastery and the Chapel of Mercy (Lady Chapel).
Once more, the paths are steep and uneven. Still, it is so much easier without pushing the bike! Eventually, we arrive at the convent and enter the Church of the Holy Cross.
Huge wall paintings and the general atmosphere of the church are a surprise and a contrast to the fortress character of the area.
By Sunday afternoon, we have checked all of Klausen’s highlights: the bike & the hike part, several restaurants, a bit of wine here and a bit of ice-cream there, the camping and the monastery. Hence, we tether up the sun to Hector’s hitch and go back to German weather.
Sometimes the few-lines-tour-description does not come close to the sensation along the way. What sounds like a medium tour for a relaxed Saturday turns out a 3-peak-cross-over-hike.
Unsurprisingly, Gunther is the hiking buddy of the day – whenever he joins, unforeseen summits (such as Ochsensitz or Ziegelspitze) come along. Fortunately, I am not easy to convince and keep to my expectation that the next peak in sight must be today’s destination of a summit.
First in a row is the Ochsensitz, passed by casually when taking the right path at an unmarked fork.
It is only when we reach the Ziegelspitze cross that I have to admit: nice here, but not Notkarspitze. It is a pity, but then it is a good place for a snack with a view just the same.
We leave Ziegelspitze behind, appreciating the multifaceted paths, getting more and more of an open view on the surrounding landscape. The hilly landscape with ups and downs and ridges, to be more precise. It dawns on me that we need to conquer it all: the saddle we are on, the mountain we see ahead to the left, and then all the way up to the more distant peak straight ahead. It must be around here when Gunther drops a word about being happy that I have proposed the tour, meaning that I cannot blame him for the efforts we face.
Eventually, we get there. Once settled down with a Gipfelsemmel, I regain forces quickly. Full of energy, new plans come up. Let’s take the most steep way down! We are young, we are strong, we can ignore the skeptical thoughts of the others. Before we leave, it is time to get back to handstand skills. Obviously, you should exercise every now and then if aiming for a vertical form…
The way down is the most steep descent of all tours so far. In the end, I clench my teeth while I feel every nerve in my feet, every movement in my knees and every inch of altitude that we lose. Three minutes later, we are there: The Ettaler Mühle welcomes us with coffee, cold beverages and a rural choice of food.
The last passage back to the parking is nothing less than the ultimate proof of fitness: 3:05h up + 2:10h down have not brought us down. We beat the proposed 45 minutes by far, heading back to the car in a mere 25 minutes. Guess I have become a mountain-speed-snail after all.
No explanation available. Except, perhaps, for the pictures and the scenery.
Hard to tell why I go up to the top, then down, then up again. Sweating, sometimes swearing, either alone or in company. Knowing that hiking the Alps always leads to good company. Those who share the same wacky lust for mountain paths are always good for a little chat here or a tour-recommendation there, mostly likeable.
Starting smart and early, I make my way over the ridge towards the Brecherspitz at 9:00 a.m. Far from being the first, I find myself surrounded by a group of 60-something-guys and a cloud of flying ants. The latter can be beaten successfully by an overdose of citronella spray.
My Gipfelsemmel is accentuated by an Alpine concert. As Bergfex as can be, one of the mountain enthusiasts stands up and starts yodeling, leaving me stunned with goose bumps on my arms. Never had I guessed that yodeling can sound so sweet and charming! What comes next is a heartful song, again with the uttermost talent and just perfect on this exposed peak, high above the civilized world.
No further motivation needed for my douple peak challenge! Leaving about 50% of the peak’s height behind, I reach the Obere Firstalm at 10:00 a.m. Too early for lunch, but a good time for the second part of the tour.
Despite the 28° C reached by now, I head up for the Bodenschneid, sole peak with view on all 3 lakes around: Tegernsee, Schliersee, Spitzingsee.
I have been here before, fortunately. This time, I am exhausted, paying few attention to the outlook. I rather try to sit in the tiny shadow thrown by the peak’s cross, regaining forces for the second descent.
Only yesterday, it seemed reasonable to add the Bodenschneid to the Brecherspitz-tour, facing the fact that 500-something-meters altitude difference are way below my possibilities. Now I wonder when and in which state I will reach the Obere Firstalm, aiming for shadow even more than for a light meal.
Thanks to my boundless fitness, it takes less than an hour to get down to the Alm. The terrace offers enough space for tourists and hikers, topped by great service and Bavarian food. From here on, the forest roads back to the Spitzingsattel/parking can be done effortless, even better with intensified gravity (food, did I mention the Bavarian food?!).
Finally, I am happy to count around 880 m altitude difference, two summits and 4,5 hours of joyful action.
The early bird gets the summit! During my second cup of coffee, I watch the sun enfold a midsized light show and start to prepare today’s hike.
Weeks of rain have kept me away from the Alps far too long. Consequence is one of the light-blue tours of my preferred hiking book, presented as a 3 hours-walk up to the Kreuzbergalm.
School holidays meet one of the rare sunny days, resulting in high traffic density. Yet, I reach the Schliersee region at 6:30 a.m.without the slightest delay. When I start my walk at 7:05, I hope that I will reach the peak before my body realizes that I have skipped breakfast (time over food quantity, I’d say).
I beat the expected time (1:50h) significantly when settling down at the peak at a quarter past eight. The scenery is lovely, with the Wendelstein in the East, Baumgartenschneid in the South and the grey, stony walls of the Karwendel peaks in the West.
The Kreuzbergalm is a perfect match in the rural surrounding. It is a pity that I am too little too early for the offered delicacies.
Smart girl that I am, I have taken along the mediocre trial of home-made cinnamon buns, knowing that anything tastes delicious in the thin air of a high peak. About 500 kcal later, I have regained enough energy for a selfie before a super-speed descent back to Schliersee.
415m altit. difference
Four weeks later, the déjà-vu. Today with a friend and the Kreuzbergalm open for guests. And with confiding, happy cows. We (the cow and me) come to the same conclusion: All worth it.
Later today, I will pity not to have put a bikini in my backpack… The landscape, the torrent and the entire tour turn out just lovely. All of it begins with Götz, the organizing hiking master of the day.
We start at Wallgau and follow forest roads in the general direction of the Finanzbachklamm. The charming gorge lays down at our feet, or so it seems when the dirt road eventually approaches it’s edge.
Once stepped in the network of hiking paths around Krün / Wallgau, you can choose any kind of route suiting the mood of the day. Götz, all up for his mission of the detection of Kaiserschmarrn, makes it clear that a hike without mountain tavern is not among given options. Consequently, we head for the Finzalm = today’s destination.
The Alm is pretty and offers whatever you want – except for Kaiserschmarrn, that is. At least one of us is happy and all head-over-heels for coffee and a light meal. The other one takes it with nature-given dignity.
The chalet is surrounded by a landscape that has emerged directly from a kitschy fairy-tale book. Of course, I am a rational person, but while my companion is busy with a piece of Kirschstreusel-cake, I secretly watch out for unicorns, just in case…
Before we follow the Finzbach-gorge back to Wallgau, we step down into the valley with happy cows and a mystic current.
In such a charming surrounding, I wonder if it guarantees eternal youth once you dive into the shimmering water. Perhaps I will come back for a trial when I grow up…
Returning to the car takes some time due to all the specialties that are to be admired along the way. The gorge of the Finzbach, a natural cave beneath a giant rock formation, and the fairy-tale path with figures and stories right at the end of the tour.
In the end, we may not have resolved the mystery of the handful of young men and why (or where-to) they carry umpteen crates of beer, but we have enjoyed a wonderful hike.
A real peak, standing sole and prominent, that is what the Teufelsstättkopf is like. I start at Unterammergau, leave alone the gorge of Schleifmühlenklamm (tempest destroyed the path) and find a slow, steady pace.
Forest roads lead up with significant gradient, with the outcome of uncounted short breathers for the low-level-superspeed-tourists. When a lovely chapel hits the way, it is by far more welcome for a respiration pause than for its inner or outer beauty.
I keep to my constant snail-speed and enjoy the surrounding.
Once the Pürschling-Haus is left behind, the ways finally turn into diverse hiking paths. I accelerate when the peak gets in sight – based on the rock walls, the final passage might be of the interesting kind.
The last meters are indeed worth the entire hike, topped by the stylish cross and the exposed inches around.
Once settled down with my Gipfelsemmel, I soak in the view. Pictures hardly get a glimpse of the impression you witness when seated high above almost everything: the path 40m below, the valley down in 800m or the Alps’ peaks showing up in a few km distance.
Before I turn downwards, I try to imitate the shape of the peak’s cross. The outcome is slightly hilarious, but still I strike the pose despite limited space.
In fact, this is not how it looks like on departure day. Instead, rain and stormy wind ease my decision to get up and going – if not for the closed barrier at the campsite’s exit. It remains stubbornly closed until I place an early morning wake up-call for helpful staff with a key.
Hector takes the road under his wheels, turns up the music and off we go. 829 km further, we are back in summer temperatures and make Metz our home for the night. The camping municipal almost falls into the Moselle river with a mere 10 minutes-walk to the heart of the city.
Metz is not huge, but vivid and full of students, leading to all kinds of bars, cafés and restaurants spread over the alleys of the vielle ville.
The cathedral is the most prominent landmark around and most probably calm and impressing inside. I wonder if I should check it out, but get tempted by Hector’s cosy bed. 10 hours of driving have been less of an effort at the age of twenty-something…
The 533 km between Metz and Munich are a piece of cake. Being only half way through my pile of road music, I put Hector in parking position right in time for a welcome coffee at my neighbour’s place. Great to have both: a comfy apartment and the world’s best super-van.