Higher Places

---

A couple of hours to the southeast of Innsbruck lies Hohe Tauern NP - the largest protected area in the Eastern Alps. Many of Austria's highest peaks rise amongst this mountainous wonderland, including the country's highest, the Grossglockner (3798m), and its fourth-highest, the Grossvenediger (3660m). Though I harbour no interest whatsoever in scaling any such ice-clad peaks, my passion for wandering amongst lofty mountains combined with my newfound love for staying in alpine huts had found a perfect outlet in the form of the Venediger Höhenweg: a 5-6 day hut-to-hut walk curving around the southeastern slopes of the mighty mountain.

Unfortunately, though the weather forecast was predicting mostly sunny weather for the Saturday, Monday and Wednesday (my first, third and fifth days on the trail), the same could not be said for the Sunday and Tuesday - which, for reasons I will explain later, were the most critical days weather-wise. Nevertheless I was prepared to head to the Virgental to begin the hike, and would then just have to hope for the best. So after spending four hours on various trains and buses I eventually arrived in the village of Pragraten am Grossvenediger, where I couldn't help taking advantage of the sunny weather and short first stage by heading off on a little detour before the main event commenced.

Following the Isel River upstream, the shady trail passed a narrow gap where the river was squeezed through a tight bottleneck into a plunge pool, resulting in a waterfall that caught the sunlight at just the right angle to produce a perfect rainbow. From there another twenty minutes brought me to the thunderous, multi-tiered Umbalfälle, where the sheer power of the glacial torrent was staggering. Meanwhile high up on an adjacent mountainside another waterfall could be seen plunging hundreds of metres from a hanging valley. Between the copious amount of rain that falls in such mountainous areas and the ever-present snowmelt throughout the summer, one could never roam far in these parts without finding plentiful drinking water (though it's recommended not to drink glacial water due to the lack of mineral content).

Turning my attention to the task of reaching my overnight accommodation, I had the small matter of an 800m climb to the Essener-Rostocker Hütte up the Maurer Tal - the westernmost of three parallel valleys that run north from the Virgental. To begin with the walking was quite pleasant, until I hit a section of trail that appeared to have been re-routed - possibly the result of a landslip - where suddenly I found myself traipsing through mud up a steep slope devoid of trees under the glare of a hot sun. Needless to say the odd expletive was uttered as I sweated and staggered my way up this ugly path, until finally I emerged in the upper valley, where I was rewarded with scenery more typical of the Alps - grassy meadows dissected by rushing streams and backed by snow-clad mountains.

The final push up a hillside overlooking a braided cataract brought me to the welcome refuge of the Essener-Rostocker Hütte (2208m), where I had the good fortune of being assigned to a small room with only four bunk beds - though the room would prove to be just as cramped for space as the dining rooms downstairs, where the scrum that formed around the salad buffet (and subsequent lineup that extended down the narrow corridor) not only had me laughing, but also thanking my lucky stars that I'd opted for the nightly Bergsteigeressen ('Mountaineers' meal') instead of my usual half-board option.

Having been unable to secure a booking for the following night at the second hut on the route (the Johannishütte) at the upper end of the Dorfer Tal, I'd had to instead book a bed at the Eisseehütte in the adjacent Timmeltal - the easternmost of the three side-valleys leading off the Virgental. This meant that I was faced with the daunting prospect of having to climb two high passes in a single day, and though the total distance covered would only be 13km, this would include a 600m climb to the first pass, followed by a 700m descent to the Johannishütte, then an 850m climb to the second pass, and finally a 430m descent to the Eisseehütte - in other words, a bloody tiring day. To make matters worse, possible storms had originally been forecast from midday onwards, which was bad news indeed given that my second pass of the day was located at almost 3000m - by far my highest pass crossing ever in the Alps. Thankfully though the most recent weather update (which I had checked whilst tucking into the breakfast buffet) had pushed the 'possibility of thunderstorms' back to 3pm, which could make all the difference between a tough but enjoyable day and an absolute nightmare.

Thankfully the former would come to fruition, and though it would turn out to be one of my more challenging days in the mountains, it was also endlessly rewarding. First heading up-valley towards the glacial cirque at the head of the Maurer Tal, the trail then swung east and climbed toward the pass of the Türmljoch (2782m) in the shadow of an imposing tower of rock with perpendicular sides (and no doubt an epic view from the top). From there the descent into the Dorfer Tal took little more than an hour, which included a rather comical encounter with a cow who decided that it very much liked the taste of my sweat - so much so that when I tried to extricate myself from its presence by backtracking along the trail, it followed with far greater agility than I would have given it credit for. In fact I ended up being pursued in a low-speed chase, until I was forced to take evasive action by scaling a scree slope to get around my bovine admirer! Nevertheless, by 11:30 I was sitting down to a lunch of gemichter salad washed down with a large hefeweizen (German cloudy wheat beer), whilst keeping one eye on the weather out the window.

Leaving the Johannishütte at midday, the long haul up to the Zopatscharte began immediately, with 850m to be gained in just 3.5km at a gradient of roughly 25%. Not knowing whether anyone else would be attempting the pass in the afternoon, I was relieved to find a group of three trudging steadily upwards about ten minutes ahead of me at around the halfway point of the climb, only to then realise that they were in fact headed over a different pass to the Neue Sajathütte at the southern end of the ridge. With grey clouds massing above the peaks I allowed myself only a single five-minute break about 500m into the climb, in the hope that if the weather broke I would already be on my way down the other side. Turning a corner at 2700m I could see my objective up ahead to the left, at the top of a desolate-looking rock chute filled with both glacial debris and a gigantic heap of boulders that looked like they must have been the result of a landslide from one of the neighbouring peaks.

With my goal now in sight I managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other - though only just - until I spotted a couple of human-shaped figures topping the final rise and then disappearing from view, only to re-emerge atop the ridge crest. Ten minutes later I followed suit, having successfully managed to knock off the 850m climb from the Johannishütte in under two hours. Standing atop the Zopatscharte at 2958m, I was significantly higher than I had ever been before in the Alps (or the Rockies for that matter), with my previous high point having been the Blümlisalphütte in Switzerland at 2834m. The sense of relief and accomplishment was overwhelming. After having crossed so many other passes in poor weather on this trip, the opportunity to cross two high passes in a single day in decent weather seemed like an incredible gift, and one that I had most certainly not expected.

But the crossing was still only half over, as I still had to get down the other side to reach the Eisseehütte. Before long I caught up to the older Dutch couple who I had spotted from below, and after making it down a short but precarious section of fixed cable I stopped to make sure they got down safely as well before continuing on my way. Within an hour I had arrived at the Eisseehütte (2521m) - with the resident marmots scattering to either side of the trail at my approach - where the atmosphere was more relaxed and intimate than at other huts, due to the limited capacity of just 25 guests.

As much as I would like to have taken the hour-long side-trip to the Ice Lake from which the hut takes its name, after having climbed almost 1500 vertical metres over two high passes in a single day, my body deserved the rest of the day off. Besides, I'd not yet watched the replay of the Brisbane Lions' most recent AFL match, which I'd downloaded to my phone at the Essener-Rostocker Hütte - so after enjoying a well-earned beer and slice of cake I spent the rest of the afternoon engrossed in a see-sawing contest between the Lions and the Adelaide Crows, with the Lions ultimately winning by just 6 points to remain unbeaten at home this year. A perfect end to a brilliant day!

With only a short stage to cover on day three, I took the opportunity to head up to the Eissee (Ice Lake), which sits in a rocky amphitheatre over a hundred metres above the hut. After climbing for half-an-hour the lake suddenly appeared below me, and with the sun slanting down from over my right shoulder the effect was absolutely magical - with the water shining a brilliant turquoise, perfectly reflecting the mountains directly behind it. After lingering at my vantage point to soak up the sunshine and scenery, I slowly made my way back to the hut along a trail that shadowed the lake's outlet stream. And then just minutes before I reached the hut, I spotted a young marmot peeking out from beneath a trail-side boulder. Clearly living beside a heavily-trafficked walking trail had habituated the resident family group to humans, as I was able to watch from only a metre away as the little guy emerged from his burrow to survey the world from atop the boulder. And then not long after the first marmot had vacated the burrow, a second one followed suit, providing me with my most intimate observations yet of these usually-elusive (though rather charming) little creatures!

Eventually leaving the hut for good at 10:30am, the Venediger Höhenweg headed south down the Timmeltal, maintaining its height as it cut across the slopes on the eastern side of the valley. Contouring around to the east, the trail then followed a magnificent belvedere path across a slope of lush grass (a rarity at this height, and only possible on south-facing slopes that receive much more sunshine) while offering panoramic views across the deep trough of the Virgental towards the
Lasörling group of mountains directly opposite. With a beautiful blue sky overhead and all manner of bees and butterflies making the most of the short summer flowering season, the effect was truly mesmerising.

But all good things come to an end, and in this case that end was marked by a steep climb up a series of switchbacks, not long after which I got my first view of the Bonn-Matreier Hütte sitting atop the next ridge. Unfortunately, though the hut wasn't a lot higher than I was, there was a problem - between me and the hut was a deep valley which I would be forced to descend into on an even steeper series of switchbacks than the ones I had just come up! Thankfully this was only my third hour on the trail for the day, because I can't imagine how heart-breaking a descent like that would have been at the end of a longer day, knowing that every metre lost would have to be regained with interest. It was a much sweatier version of me that eventually emerged on the terrace of the Bonn-Matreier Hütte (by far my highest hut yet at 2750m) shortly before 2pm!

At dinner that evening I enjoyed a vegetable curry in the company of a young guy from Austria and a man from Germany. It was the German who told me "I think if you want more you can just ask". This was a revelation, as it was the first I had ever heard of being able to have 'seconds' in a mountain hut - other than from a buffet of course - and I was somewhat doubtful, but having never forgotten the German for "Is there any more?" I was determined to give it a try. When the waitress came to collect my plate I asked "Gibt es noch mehr?", to which she immediately replied in the affirmative... as a ripple of laughter spread around our corner of the gaststube ('dining room'). When my German companion then mentioned that this was also possible at the Badener Hütte - my destination for the next day - I made a mental note to try my luck again the following night.

But as enjoyable as the day (and the double serving at dinner) had been, a rising sense of unease had been brewing inside me at the prospect of having to cross the dreaded Galtenscharte the following day. My guidebook described the stage in question as "the hardest and most challenging day of the Venediger Höhenweg"; while the crossing of the Galtenscharte was described thus: "The route now descends very steep difficult ground for one hour"... "The upper sections which you are to descend are very steep and very exposed". It was enough to send a chill down my spine. My German dinner companion had crossed the pass in the opposite direction that day, and said he enjoyed it but that it was also "much easier in that direction". When I enquired as to the latest weather forecast from the hut hostess, she said simply "the same as today". When I acted surprised, she added "it should be sunny, but there might be a storm in the afternoon". I couldn't help wondering if she was just telling me what I wanted to hear...

But my fears of bad weather proved to be unfounded, as I woke the next morning to a glorious blue sky and the sort of mountain panorama one might expect from a perch located 2750m above sea level. After filling my belly at the frühstück buffet, I was taking in the view from the outdoor terrace when I noticed that a group of eleven Dutch hikers were leaving the hut in the direction of the Galtenscharte... at which point I raced inside to grab my backpack and set off down the trail at top speed to pass them. I might have been nervous about the crossing of the pass, but there was no way I wanted to be stuck behind an entire Dutch football team on a narrow trail with limited opportunities for overtaking!

Having left the Dutchies for dead I could afford to take my time, as I encountered the first section of fixed cable only ten minutes into the day on the short climb up to the Kalberscharte (2791m). From there I gazed out across a sea of broken rock around which a jagged line of peaks was arrayed, looking like the battlements of a ruined fortress. And in amongst all of those shark-toothed summits lay the narrow gap of the Galtenscharte. Picking my way through the maze of boulders at the base of this imposing rock wall, I could see three other hikers high above me, and before long the stiff climb up to the pass had begun. Hauling myself up the final ten metres with the aid of a chain hanging down from above, I emerged from the shadows into the blinding sunshine atop the Galtenscharte (2881m), where a whole new world was laid out before me.

But so too was the way down, and it didn't look promising. Crossing a steep slope of loose rock isn't much fun at the best of times, but even less so when that slope extends downwards for more than half-a-kilometre. Thankfully there was a cable stretching across the first three hundred metres of this slope, secured every ten metres or so by a perpendicular cable anchored (with questionable reliability) into the rock above. Eventually the cable ended and I had to forge on without any support, though by now the slope had eased marginally so that, by crouching down to lower my centre of gravity, I had just enough confidence to proceed at what could only be described as a glacial pace. It was only when I reached the vegetation line that I started to feel more comfortable; as despite the diminutive nature of the various grasses and mosses clinging to the slope, collectively they had done a remarkable job of holding the soil together, so that for the first time I could trust my grip on the surface and finally start to relax somewhat.

It took me over an hour to negotiate 1km of trail, during which I had descended over 400m. But when I finally reached a flattish patch of ground - where the three older Austrians had sprawled themselves out across the rocks - I could afford to let out a mighty big sigh of relief, and slowly unclench my arsehole. With the weather still gloriously clear and the crossing of the Galtenscharte behind me, the rest of the day's walk was like a victory procession. I imagine this is how footballers feel when there's ten minutes left in a Grand Final that they know their team has won. Contouring across the slopes of the Frostnitzbachtal on a narrow trail through the grass, there were still sections of fixed cable to deal with, but nothing even remotely as terrifying as what I'd already experienced.

As clouds finally started to gather overhead, I crossed a thunderous river pouring down from the Schlaten Kees glacier with frightening force, before embarking on the stiff 300m climb up to the Badener Hütte. Slogging my way up the narrow crest of the long-retreated glacier's lateral moraine, the first fat drops of rain started to fall as I was just ten minutes below the hut, and this was all the motivation I needed to knock off the final hundred metres of ascent to the Badener Hütte at 2608m. Later in the afternoon a thunderstorm arrived, during which the rain pelted down with a ferocity usually reserved for the tropics, while thunder rumbled around the mountains with a depth and clarity that was as frightening as it was impressive.

The following morning dawned clear (my fifth sunny day in a row) and would prove to be my favourite day of all... and not just because I had the comforts of civilisation and my first shower in five days to look forward to! An hour of gentle climbing was all it took to reach the far end of the valley, where the view from the Loebbentorl pass (2770m) was perhaps the most breathtaking yet, with the grassy hillsides of the Frostnitzbachtal contrasting wildly with the rugged, glacial landscape to the north. The whole scene was dominated by rock and ice, with not a blade of grass to be seen. Never had the difference between north- and south-facing slopes been so clearly demonstrated, as the ice that had long since disappeared from the Frostnitzbachtal still holding sway in the neighbouring valley - even if it was well disguised under a blanket of rubble in the bed of the valley, with only the higher, steeper slopes displaying the classic, glistening white sheets of unblemished ice that have long been a hallmark of the Alps.

Picking my way down a slope of broken rock (and across the only snow patch left on the trail) I ended up following a glorious trail along the crest of the lateral moraine left behind by the Schlaten Kees glacier, which extended all the way down from the heights of the Grossvenediger (3660m) into the bed of the valley, where it had calved numerous icebergs into the growing meltwater lake at its snout. The views were truly epic, and it seemed a fitting finale to my partial circumnavigation of the Grossvenediger - though I marvelled at how it was only as I headed down from the lofty heights of the previous four days that I seemed to finally penetrate the inner sanctum of this icy mountain fortress; which presumably was because I had largely been exploring the sunlit southern slopes until now.

In any case, as I walked down-valley I got the distinct feeling that I was about to slip out the 'back door' of this land of giants, with those 'in the know' visitors heading in the opposite direction encountering a much less hospitable side of the mountains than that which I had been introduced to from the Virgental. But I was glad to have tackled the walk this way, seeing the many different faces of the Venediger massif before finally being allowed into its icy heart. And as the trail finally dropped off the crest of the moraine and turned away from the glacially-scoured valley that had held me captivated for the past couple of hours, there were still highlights aplenty to keep my mind from wandering. From the 'Eye of God' pond with its floating island of reeds, to the sapphire-blue Salzbodensee lake directly beneath it, and on down an interminable set of steps toward the flat, fertile valley of the Tauerntal - passing a spectacular waterfall along the way - it was the visual equivalent of listening to a 'Greatest Hits' album, and I came to the conclusion that if I had somehow been able to do this single day's walk in isolation (perhaps with a helicopter drop-off at the Badener Hütte) it would rank as one of the best day-walks I have ever completed.

And therein lay the true beauty of the Venediger Höhenweg - each day (except perhaps for the first hour of that horrible grunt uphill on day one) had brought its own scenic delights, but best of all each of those days had been linked by the network of comfortable (if occasionally crowded) huts placed high up in the mountains, allowing those with the necessary will to not only 'see' but truly 'experience' the wonders of this Alpine wilderness. And of course, the five days of almost endless sunshine hadn't hurt either.

---

Photos

Ice Lake
Above the Eissee on the morning of day three

Falling in Steps
The powerful Umbalfälle on the Isel River

River Rapids
Footbridge and cascade in the upper Maurertal

High Mountain Scenery
Following the Maurerbach upstream on day two

Intimidating Peak
The Türml, towering over the Türmljoch

Fertile Valley
Looking down the Dorfertal from the descent to the Johannishütte

High Crossing
Standing atop the Zopatscharte, at 2958m my highest point in the Alps

Taking It Easy
Cows relaxing in front of the Eisseehütte

Turquoise Tarn
Reflections in the Eissee on day three

Posing for the Camera
A friendly marmot beside the trail

Splendour in the Grass
Following a narrow footpad on day three

A Home Amongst the High Peaks
The Bonn-Matreier Hütte, at 2750m my highest hut yet

A stiff climb to start the day
The climb to the Kalberscharte (2791m) at the beginning of day four

Riding the Crest
Atop the Galtenscharte (2871m)

What goes up, must come down...
At least there was no shortage of fixed cable to cling onto

Raging Torrent
Glacial meltwater stream flowing down from the Schlaten Kees

High Peaks under an Icy Blanket
View from the Loebbentorl (2770m)

Iceberg Alley
Meltwater lake beside the snout of the Schlaten Kees glacier

Sapphire Lake
The stunning Salzbodensee

Powerful Plunge
Thunderous waterfall on the descent to the Maurertal

Emerald Valley
The beautiful, flat-bottomed Maurertal

Comments

[D MJ Binkley]

Austria
You are on an amazing trip. Thanks for sharing.