A Virtuous Pagan in Europe

        HOME SECURITY, AUSTRIAN STYLE

      Points if you can tell me what this is—without reading further. Anyone?

          Actually, I’m not sure if it has a name. But it has at least two purposes. First, it is designed to serve 10 shots of schnapps to dedicated Austrian party-goers whenever the evening’s cacophony of whoops, clanking glasses and booming laughter begins to subside. The wooden handle on top allows the server to hold the plank level and extend the shot glasses to guests without having to walk around the table. Quite an innovation!
        Second, it can be wedged under the door handle of the Haus Michaelis in Kleinwalsertal, presumably to keep said party-goers from returning after they’re finally booted out at 5 in the morning.

          I don't remember ever partying like this.  Even the most twisted bacchanals of my youth did not reach the volume and escape-velocity boisterousness of these 30-something Austrians.  

        And the next morning, when we descended the stairs to see if the coast was clear, we found wreckage and post-party dross to rival a convention of frat boys--broken glass, piles of unidentifiable Austrian finger food and floors sticky enough to yank off untied shoes.  We pitched in to help tidy up the place and hauled 20-plus cases of16-ounce beer bottles, most of them empty, but some of them missing perhaps a single sip.

          I was speechless.  These people are true party animals.  Be afraid; be very afraid.

MINDELHEIMER HÜTTE AT 6,752 FEET

           Our first stop.  Really beautiful, huh?   It has a new wood-paneled dining room, beds and a shower that doles out a minute of hot water for one Euro.

         Which strikes me as bizarrely inhospitable at first, but I have to keep reminding myself: This is a camping trip.  If Mark and I were trekking through the Uintas, we'd be carrying sleeping bags, tents, stoves and cooking gear in a pack that would weigh around 45 or 50 pounds.  And the only bathing possible would be in lakes or streams fed by melted snow.  Along the E5 trail, we tote packs weighing 20 to 25 pounds, sleep dormitory-style under solid roofs in heated rooms on mattresses that beat the hell out of my usual Thermarest.  Hot showers for a couple Euros is really a bargain. 

          So, I can't complain.  Or at least I shouldn't.

EN ROUTE TO SCHROFENPASS

          Cool trail carved into the side of a vertical cliff.  Extreme drop on the left. What a time to find out two fellow hikers have severe vertigo. 

 r          But we reach the Schrofenpass, a small passage over the first crest of the Alps between Oberstdorf (Germany) and Warth (Austria), without incident. From here, we’re picked up in mini-vans and taxied to the little mountain village of Boden, where we have lunch. After 45 minutes of hiking, we come to a supply cable cart to haul our back-packs while we hike up to the Hanauer Hütte.

DREMMELSCHARTE

          The next day, we have a steep ascent (2,625 feet) to Dremmelscharte pass and an even steeper descent, which is made only marginally less hairy by the hand-cables bolted into the rock.  Some of the cables end prematurely in frayed metal fibers, leaving us to wonder whether the last hiker to come this way is now lying in a heap somewhere below.

        One of our hikers, Hans, takes a tumble and could have been seriously hurt.  Fortunately, he suffers only a goose egg on his forehead and abrasions on his shins.

        From here, we have a short descent to Alfutzalm (a mtn. hut at 4,137 feet). Then a taxi to a Gastfhof (inn) in Zams where I get a PRIVATE ROOM!  Which is a big deal because the last two nights were spent sleeping intermittently during brief respites from the gale-force snores escaping from my mostly 50-something roommates.  I’m so glad I don’t snore.

UP AND AWAY

         After breakfast, we catch the Venetbahn (tram) and from the top we hike towards Gogelesalm up to Gaflunalm.  Franz explains that an “alm” is typically a hut that produces cheese from mountain cattle.  Here, we learn Franz can wax metaphorical without opening his mouth.  After the break, we descend to the mountain village of Winkel near Wenns.

SHOTGUN SCHNAPPS

        Next, we’re shuttled through Pitztal (a long valley) where we once again get to drop our packs and have them ferried to the top via the utility lift.  We have lunch at a little place where busloads of tourists are force-fed schnapps from a beaker that shoots streams of liquid into their mouths while the guy administering the emetic steadies their heads and quickly wipes away inevitable spillage. (One woman got it in the eye.) These Austrians really know how to drink.

      

BRAUNSCHWEIGER HÜTTE, AT 9,051’

        We ascend to Braunschweiger Hütte, which Carol aptly describes as "a huge stone mountain hut perched high on the flanks of a rugged valley overlooking glaciers below."

            We're pretty blown away by the glacier, but Franz tells us that it has receded dramatically in the last 20 years.  We're told that it used to extend about a mile or more farther down the canyon.  I think even the most ardent global warming skeptic would be troubled by that.

PITZTALER JOECHEL

   This morning, we climb a rocky, exposed trail that is clearly marked with red and white spray paint (Austrian gang graffiti, I think). This portion is once again a little harrowing for our more vertiginous members    . . . 

. . . but Karen is conspicuously unfazed.

VENT

       From the saddle, we descend through a snowfield and lunch at a ski resort.  We then begin a long, long, long descent to Vent, a beautiful village in the Central Alps, and our night’s lodgings at Hotel Similaun.  

        Carol asks Charly, our guide, if the hotel has broadband.  Charly says we can ask the taxi driver.

         "So," Carol explains, suppressing a laugh, "I guess there's just one password for Austria and it's entrusted only to cab drivers."

         Another private room for me.  Woo-hooo!  It’s great being the only single male on the trip.  I offered to relieve overcrowding in the single women’s quarters—3 in one room--but there were no takers.  Gofigger.

CROSSING TO SAFETY

         After breakfast, we’re off to the Martin Busch Hut, 8,205 feet, and after a short break, we continue to Similaunhütte at 9,905 feet. We have to cross a glacier and everyone seems a little freaked out.  This is the part where everyone was supposed to have gaiters, but I can’t imagine what difference it would have made. Crampons would have been helpful, however; it’s really slippery.  But Charly leads us over the portions where there are exposed rocks or newly fallen snow for traction.

       After crossing the glacier, we all arrive safely at the Similaunhütte where we have lunch.

     We’re in Italy now and begin the long descent (3,609 feet) to a charming little town called Schnalstal, the final destination and the first of many self-congratulatory post-hike toasts:

WHAT DOES NOT DESTROY ME . . . 

. . . CALLS FOR SCHNAPPS!