Walking with my Head in the Clouds

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Fresh from my four-day tour of the Watzmann in the Bavarian Alps, two nights each in Salzburg and Innsbruck were all it took to have me itching to get back into the mountains, and less than an hour's bus ride south of Innsbruck lay the perfect place to do so: the Stubai Alps. This time I would need to carry something a little more substantial than a day-pack, as I had lined up eight consecutive nights at a string of mountain huts located along the Stubaier
Höhenweg (High-level Route). A circular route measuring roughly 80km, it starts and finishes in the town of Neustift in the Stubai Valley, climbing straight up one side of the valley and then remaining high up in the mountains (above 2000m) for over a week, as it circumnavigates the Stubaital - via a number of its tributary valleys - before finally dropping back down into Neustift.

In keeping with my recent experiences in Austria and Germany however (where it had rained on ten days out of twelve to this point) the weather forecast made for less than pleasant reading. Granted, the first afternoon would be sunny, but thereafter light rain would set in for the following two days, followed by another two days where anything and everything was possible - rain, snow, storms, and possibly even a hint of sunshine. And if I managed to survive all of that without calling it quits and retreating down into the valley, then day six might just bring some clear skies my way. The message was clear: make the most of that first afternoon!

After stocking up on chocolate bars from the supermarket in Neustift (€1 for a block of Milka - how can you go wrong?!) I hit the trail for the steep climb up to the Starkenburger Hütte, which much like my climb to the Watzmannhaus seven days earlier involved an altitude gain of well over a vertical kilometre - in this case 1240m in just 6km. This time around, however, I was carrying my large backpack; and although I'd left all of my camping gear and some of my clothes behind at the Jugendherberge (Youth Hostel) in Innsbruck, I still had to lug somewhere between 8-10kg up the mountainside, whereas the week before I'd had no more than 4kg on my back. On a more positive note, despite the overcast sky the clouds were at least ABOVE me as opposed to all around me like they had been in Germany, allowing me to enjoy the ever-improving views as I picked my way up through a combination of pine woods and grassy clearings. In fact the views were so good that any physical suffering was set aside, and for most of the climb I had a smile etched across my face.

And then just when I caught my first glimpse of the Starkenburger Hütte perched high up on the crest of a ridge (at 2237m, my new highest hut in Europe) the sun came out, and all at once the scenery went from impressive to sublime. So desperate was I to make the most of this sunny spell, I ended up sitting outside in the hut's outdoor terrace for a full two hours simply soaking up the sunshine; though unfortunately I never got around to putting sunblock on, so that quite inexplicably I managed to get sunburned for the first time on the trip in the one country that had until now had the most consistently bad weather! Still, if the forecast for the next few days was accurate my arms and shoulders would have plenty of time to recover without any risk of further overexposure...

Fulfilling my commitment to make the most of the fine weather, I'd no sooner claimed a bed in the dormitory than I was off to pursue even better views than those already on offer from the hut. This pursuit led me up a further 380m in just under an hour to the summit of Hoher Burgstall, from where the most incredible 360° panorama was laid out before me. With both the Stubaital and its neighbour the Oberbergtal slicing deep ribbons through the mountains, I could more or less trace the entire route of the Stubaier Höhenweg that I would be following for the next eight days. But best of all was the knowledge that I had knocked off over a vertical mile in elevation gain from the town of Neustift at 990m to the summit of Hoher Burgstall at 2611m - which as far as I can recall is the greatest elevation gain I have ever achieved in a single day - and all without overexerting myself. And unlike the last mountain I had set out to climb, this time I'd not been turned back by circumstances beyond my control.

With the hut only being half-full and the weather still holding clear (though a thick bank of clouds hovered above the mountains lining the opposite side of the valley) the twenty or so overnight guests were able to enjoy our dinner al fresco; before most of us retired to a separate building where the dormitory was located. Not only was this building almost new, with just half the beds in our 28-bed dorm being occupied there was more than enough space for everyone - it was easily the most comfortable night I've spent in a mountain hut so far. And when I woke during the night to find a full moon shining in through the window, well, that was just the icing on the cake.

Having enjoyed the most incredible views down the length of the Oberbergtal from both the hut and the peak above it, the trail from Starkenburger Hütte to Franz-Senn Hütte on day two promised to be a beauty, following a belvedere path high up on the western side of the valley, with never-ending views of row upon row of lofty mountains. Not that I actually got to see any of this however, as the entire day was spent with my head in the clouds. An occasional fleeting glimpse of limestone peaks disappearing into the ether early on in the day offered some hope that the weather might clear, but these hopes were destined to be dashed as the clouds soon closed ranks to conceal everything under a blanket of grey.

For nearly six hours I followed the narrowest of trails with barely an inkling of what lay 100m away in any direction, and such was the steepness of the mountainside that often the only thing that could be seen to my left was a dull grey void. On the bright side at least this lessened the exposure one might otherwise feel on such a path, and to add a further positive spin to the day it never actually rained while I was out walking as the forecast had predicted; but in truth I still got soaked from the knees down due to the sodden vegetation leaning across the trail, and although I managed to enjoy the experience for the first three hours or so through to the farm restaurant of Sudecker Hochalm, there could be no denying that the novelty had well and truly worn off by the time the Franz-Senn Hütte (2147m) finally materialised out of the gloom a couple of long hours later.

But all of this was forgotten as soon as I laid eyes upon the young hostess of the Franz-Senn Hütte. It wasn't the first time I had fallen under the spell of one of these feisty frauleins, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Whether it is a hiring policy of these mountain huts that only the most beautiful women are hired; or whether it is more a case of wearing rose-tinted glasses (the sober equivalent of 'beer goggles') after having endured a day in the mountains, I can't quite be sure; but needless to say, after walking for hours on end - often through less than pleasant weather - only to then be greeted by a smiling face offering a warm bed, hot food and cold beer (though not necessarily in that order) it would take a hardened heart indeed to not fall for the charms of these wonderful women! Mermaids have long been reputed to lure sailors to their deaths with their irresistible siren songs; who's to say the same doesn't apply to hikers answering the 'call of the mountains' issued by these indefatigable hut hostesses, only to disappear into the clouds and never be seen again?

As the afternoon wore on I noticed that almost all of the previous night's guests from the Starkenburger Hütte - many of whom I had passed along the way - had arrived at the much larger Franz-Senn Hütte, where we were outnumbered by others who had presumably either come from the Neue Regensburgerhütte in the opposite direction or had climbed straight up from the valley bottom. I wondered how many of them might also be following the Stubaier Höhenweg for the next week. There were two young men who I presumed to be from Germany (since one had a German flag on his backpack); three couples (one older and two younger); a father and daughter; a family from Israel who seemed completely oblivious to the standard mountain hut conventions (ie take your boots off before you enter, leave the room as you find it etc) and three young women who had turned up while everyone else was halfway through dinner on the first night. To this motley crew could be added a couple of men (possibly father and son) who turned up late on the second day, and a young Italian guy with a predilection for espresso who seemed as confused as me when it came to the different check-in and food ordering procedures at each hut!

Waking to find the same blanket of cloud from the day before was still securely anchored over the hut, and with a climb over a 2700m pass to tackle, I was relieved to find that the usual suspects from the previous day were hitting the trail just ahead of me - with the three girls leading the way, followed by the father and daughter, the two young German guys, and finally one of the younger couples. The two German guys and the young woman walking with her father I knew walked at a similar pace to me (though I had noticed that the daughter would often leave her Dad for dead, only waiting for him to catch up much later!) and the idea of walking amongst similarly competent companions appealed.

In wet weather you learn to identify your hiking companions by the colour of their backpack rain covers: the young couple who I passed only five minutes in had matching blue Fjallravan covers; the two guys who stepped aside to let me pass just five minutes later had one black and one orange; while the father and daughter sported green and yellow respectively. When they too stepped aside to let me pass only twenty minutes after leaving the hut, I started to wonder whether I had been appointed the 'sacrificial foreigner'. Many cultures throughout history have practised human sacrifice in order to appease their gods; the Incas in particular were known to leave human offerings on the highest mountaintops. Perhaps a harem of hut hostesses was waiting atop the pass to slit my throat?!? I could already picture my epitaph: "Died on the Schrimmennieder, so that others might live". Or maybe I was just losing my mind from having spent so much time walking through clouds recently. If I was going to be the victim of some sort of mountain ambush, I hoped that I would at least be granted a serving of apple strudel (with cream) for my final meal.

As it turned out, there was no one waiting for me at the pass. After dodging puddles and trudging through mud for the first hour, then weaving my way up a tortuous route through fractured rock (the result of a large avalanche that caused a re-routing of the trail) and climbing some more across an open slope of loose rocks and gravel - and all in visibility of no more than a hundred metres - I finally reached the narrow gap of the Schrimmennieder (2714m) two-and-a-half hours after setting out... and immediately decided that the frost on my gloves was a sign that I should probably not linger any longer than necessary. The hot 'marching tea' that I had filled one of my water bottles with at breakfast had already shed its heat, and I was in danger of doing the same.

So just as the young blonde woman emerged from the mist on the northern side of the pass (minus her father, as usual) I plunged down the southern side. Negotiating a series of switchbacks - which, with the benefit of my trusty new shoes picked up in Innsbruck, presented no great difficulty - I eventually emerged from the clouds to be greeted by a sliver of a view down the steep-sided Falbesonertal (a side-valley running down towards the main Stubaital). As the trail then took a ninety-degree turn to the right to contour across the upper slopes of the valley, the clouds cleared even more to reveal the Neue Regensburgerhütte, perched at the head of the valley above the plunging waters of the Falbesonerfall. Before long the whole side-valley was visible all the way down to its confluence with the Stubai Valley. After two days of walking through clouds, this was more than I had dared hope for.

But the best was yet to come, for after arriving at the Neue Regensburgerhütte (2286m) on the stroke of midday - surprised to find that I was the first person to arrive - I was presented with a menu full of the most delicious-sounding dining options, all of which happened to be vegetarian. Pretty soon I was tucking into what could best be described as a 'curry sandwich' put between two potato waffles, which was then followed up by a serve of sweet waffles with strawberry ice cream, alongside a mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream! Within half-an-hour of arriving my budget for the day had been blown; but if ever there was a day made for eating my way to happiness, this was it!

My roommates for the night happened to be the three girls, which aside from giving the evening the atmosphere of a slumber party also meant that I could enjoy a night without earplugs - as in my experience women are infinitely less likely to snore than men, and even when they do it is rarely as offensive to the ears as when men do it. (I thankfully do not snore). Unfortunately the rooms in the old building happened to be quite cold, which meant that we all had to sleep fully clothed. Unsurprisingly, with the girls having scheduled in a rest day for the next day, I returned from the breakfast buffet to find the three of them snuggled up together back under the blankets - it seemed pretty clear this was the extent of their plans for the day! I had to admit I was rather jealous, as I slowly added layers of clothing (including my wet weather gear for the first time) and headed out into the rain...

The route to the Dresdner Hütte was supposed to lead over the highest pass of the entire trail: the Grawagrubenneider (which, at 2888m, would have been the highest point I had ever reached in the Alps). But with all of the rain that had fallen both overnight and throughout the morning having no doubt fallen as snow higher up in the mountains - and with the usual blanket of clouds hovering not far above the hut, meaning that the vast majority of the climb would be done through thick cloud - I had doubts as to the wisdom of tackling such a route in the unfavourable conditions. The girls confirmed that both the couple they had been sat with at breakfast and the father and daughter combination had decided they would not be attempting the route, but would instead be heading down to the Stubaital and then taking a bus up to the end of that valley, before ascending to the Dresdner Hütte either by cable car or on foot. They also mentioned, however, that the two young German guys (who they believed to be members of the German army) were keen to give the Grawagrubenneider a try...

After saying goodbye to the girls and making my way downstairs, I met up with the German guys who immediately asked whether I was going to attempt the high pass, in the hope that we could do it together. I said I had my doubts, so we went outside to take a look at the upper valley. What I saw chilled my spine. Through the fog only an outline of the mountains at the back of the valley could be seen, but there was no mistaking the vast expanse of white snow extending down from their summits. To the left the slight dip in the ridge that formed the pass could be seen, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that a lot of snow would have to be crossed to get there. I immediately turned to the Germans and said "Sorry, but snow is my kryptonite - there is no way I'm going up there!". They understood, but still wanted to give it a go themselves. I walked with them for a couple of minutes before stopping to take some pictures of that intimidating scene, as they soon disappeared from view... only to reappear ten minutes later, having reconsidered their options and decided to take the sensible route down the valley.

Resigned to our fate, we slowly made our way down the switch-backing route into the lower Falbesonertal, which was easier said than done given that with all of the rain the trail had been turned into a stream. Eventually we emerged from the pine woods beside the main road on the floor of the Stubaital, where the guys (who had confirmed they were soldiers from Munich) stopped to wait for the bus. I on the other hand was prepared to accept the compromise of bypassing the Grawagrubenneider, but not willing to admit total defeat by having to take the bus. Besides, according to my map there was a perfectly viable alternative to following the main road 8.5km up the Stubaital, in the form of the Wilde Wasser Weg (Wild Water Way). Experience has taught me that if you have to walk anywhere in the rain, the best place to do so is either in a rainforest or beside a raging river, as these are the two environments that are at their most vibrant and impressive under such conditions. And so it proved to be.

Following the swollen Reutz River as it corkscrewed its way through a narrow gorge, the trail then continued upstream past all manner of rapids, before passing the highlight of the day at the Grawa Wasserfall, which tumbled down a rock face in a wide curtain of white water, flooding the air with its dense spray. From there things became a little more tame, before I eventually passed the neighbouring cable car stations (only one of which was in action) that mark the southern end of the Stubai Valley - from here I would have to climb a further 500 metres (on top of the 500m I had already climbed down on the valley floor) to reach the Dresdner Hütte. So be it. For the first time all day I removed my rain jacket and rain pants - not because it had stopped raining, but because once I started climbing I would get wetter from sweat with my waterproof layers on, than I would from the rain with my waterproof layers off!

Exactly an hour later I crested the ridge, and through the dull grey nothingness the angular shape of the Dresdner Hütte was unmistakable. After trading updates with the two German lads, I was able to access the hut's free WiFi to confirm that the weather forecast was still predicting increasingly clear weather for the coming days. We'd walked through clouds, rain and mud for the best part of three days, but finally there was hope on the horizon! And unlike everyone else, I'd walked every step of the way.

To be continued...

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Photos

Room with a View
View from the dormitory window at the Starkenburger Hütte

Village in the Valley
View of Neustift from the trail

A Glimmer of Hope
First glimpse of the Starkenburger Hütte through the trees

Al fresco dining, Alpine-style
The popular outdoor terrace at the Starkenburger Hütte

Starting on a High
On the summit of Hoher Burgstall (2611m)

Shades of Grey
About as good as the views got on day two

A Splash of Green
Passing the Schlickersee on day two

Refuge Amid the Clouds
Finally arriving at the Franz-Senn Hütte (2191m)

Sturdy Shelter
The Franz-Senn Hütte on day three, during an early break in the clouds

Creek Crossing
Partway up the climb to the Schrimmennieder

Mountains in the Mist
Atop the Schrimmennieder (2714m)

Finally, a View!
Looking down on the Falbesonertal, late on day three

Indulgence
Enjoying some sweet treats at the Neue Regensburgerhütte

An Intimidating Scene
View from outside the Neue Regensburgerhütte on day four - with the Grawagrubenneider in the clouds to the back left

Escape Route
Heading down into the Falbesonertal on day four

Rushing River
Enjoying the sensory experience of the Wild Water Way

Feeling the Spray
The Grawa Wasserfall

Emerging from the Clouds
Arriving at the Dresdner Hütte (2308m)

Three Peaks
The Starkenburger Hütte (2237m)

Peaceful Evening
Quiet time on the terrace at Starkenburger Hütte

Rocky Outcrop
Looking up toward the summit of Hoher Burgstall