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Published: August 30th 2009
An important lesson was learnt this past fortnight: the hills are NOT alive with the sound of music. Rather, the rugged mountain peaks groan with sleepless snore-filled nights, dizzying altitudes to 3000m, sunstroke, water scarcity, flaming knee joints and 1000's of vertical meters of sharp rock paths in the race against manic Germans to get to the next beer hut.
Lesson number 2: When you're issued with a pre-hike powerpoint presentation entitled: "Let's Cross The Alps", take it first literally, then seriously. Three clueless girls, and one experienced hiker, began skipping through a German flower meadow, traversed peak after peak across the ENTIRE WIDTH of Austria, and ended up zombies in the stunning Italian spa town of Merano.
In the spirit of adventure travel writing, I can't help listing the adversities we girls tackled so heroically. In truth, however, the experience was fantastic. We had perfect weather the entire time, and grand mountain huts along our path serving champagne and fully-cooked hot meals (I'm now happy to bypass goulash and dumplings for the rest of my life). With no men to carry our backpacks, (although the odd baggage gondola helped), we surprised many a hiking group with our girlie
approach to this epic journey. Luxury B&B's in quaint alpine villages won over shared dorms in huts. If a taxi was available through flat farmland paths, we were strapped inside, cruising past idiots wearing through their soles before reaching the steep mountain base. We were always the last to hit the road after a lavish buffet breakfast (please, no more cheese, salami, nutella or bread!), and delighted in dipping our weary feet in icy waterfalls surrounded by butterflies.
Unfortunately, after a particularly treacherous mountain crossing and 10 straight hours of steep downhill traversing, my knees swelled like balloons and I was out of the race for 2 days. I rejoined the girls on the last mountain border cross into Italy, but when heatstroke threatened, the old knee-brace and hobble hoax worked it's magic to convince an elderly couple to drive us the remaining 2 hours to the peak.
Aaaaah Italy.... you haven't experienced Italy at it's finest till you've been to South Tyrol. A combination of Austrian elegance and the best of Italian produce had us tripping through cobblestone streets, munching on buffalo mozzarella, savoring tomatoes that actually taste like a tomato should, and filling up on delicious
peaches and the obligatory pizza quotient. I love Italy. And I especially love Merano: an entire mountain-ringed town built around spas. Bring it on!
We finished our European experience relaxing in Zurich, swimming in the city's main river with water so clean you can drink it, and slurping down as many creamy Movenpick icecreams as we could handle between slabs of Swiss chocolate. Happy grass-fed cows make for yummy milk-based products.
I'm now back in New York feeling refreshed and ready to tackle those hoards of tourists and irritated locals, with a new pact: to leave The City at least once a month. It's the only way to cope with the pace.
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Rosanne
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I'm still alive... Into your words of enthusiasm
Penny, Yes I am still alive and well her in the "land of downunder". I'm still in shock after reading your blog on this mountain trek. I'm not kidding! I laughed so hard but take my hat off to you. Well Done! And of cause in tradionally "Lady Like Style". Sorry I have not read your blog in a while. I have had my head buried in books for my thesis. Rosanne xoxo