After Jeremy P Caulfield filled us in on his going-ons last week, as promised he's given us a full, bustling report of his recent trip to the German/Austrian Alps with the Vakant fellas. Sit back and enjoy their vivid and gripping journey through the Alps...and then come join the Dumb-Unit crew as they journey through our cavernous Room Two this Saturday. Both journeys are of equal weight and importance, naturally.
It’s Tuesday morning, after a long weekend hosting our DU/Vakant party at Watergate we are pumped to exit Berlin for a while. Our mission is to head deep into the wilderness and climb high above the clouds. We are flying to Salzburg where we will catch a bus into the Alps and through to Berchtesgaten. Alex and I thank Ingo for doing the planning duties for this adventure and I promise to add equal effort to our VEGAS EXTRAVAGANZA 2011! Here’s hoping…
Our flight to Salzburg is less than an hour and after a few well timed bus connections we arrive at Königssee, a pristine and picturesque village at the base from where we’ll catch the lift up a portion of the mountain. At the local grocery store we choose food to last two days and feed three distinct appetites, one of which is Vegetarian. It’s all about the basics: bread, cheese, and of course, the important Snickers bars - King of Instant Energy. Ingo and I (who are not vegetarian) also indulge in the acquisition of some locally made Leberkase, basically a loaf of liver...a tasty treat I know we’ll deserve at some point on the hike.
As we arrive at the offloading point, the wind is getting brisker and the view more spectacular. The valley where we disembark is deep with a convergence of 5 or 6 peaks, all of which seem to be fighting for attention. Hohes Brett, the ridge we will be attempting, is both magnificent and intimidating. Today, though, it is only a short 45-minute hike to our lodging. Tonight we’ll bed at the Carl-Von-Stahl-Hau, a small chalet located on a ridge that straddles the German/Austrian Border. It is a breathtaking location and as we arrive the cool valley mist is slowly creeping its way past the sun lit house. Built in 1923, the chalet can fit up to 75 people, but luckily tonight it is less than a quarter filled. Alex, Ingo and I score a comfortable, 4 person bunk room and we thank the Mountain Gods that some snoring lumberjack will not be sharing our roost.
As the sun sets, we sit outside enjoying a cool Wietzen beer and wait impatiently for the communal dinner, promptly served at 6 pm. The menu consists of Leberknödelsuppe and Gamsbraten Mit Blaukraut for Ingo and I, and Käsespätzle for Alex. It is of course a hearty mountain dinner, and one we are confident will require some fresh Alpine air to assist filtering it out of our of room later in the evening. After the meal we continue to drink and look over our route again: we all agree that we are able and willing to attempt a Mittle – Hart (middle hard climb) up Hohes Brett and descend under Hoher Göll - and past Eagles Nest – Hitler’s one time Mountain Villa. What exactly this means will be amply demonstrated to me the next day. Until then we polish off a few more Wietzen beers and head off to bed. We adhere to chalet’s strict curfew of 10 pm. I crack open the window before heading to bed. Three lumberjacks is indeed enough for this room. After the laughing and schoolboy antics subside we all pass out for a heavy night’s sleep.
The next morning we are up early, as all the rooms must be cleared before breakfast, which is served promptly at 8 am. This being Germany / Austria, there are a multitude of rules to follow, but it does ensure that the place is not filled with dumb-drunks who have no intention of ever leaving the Patio. By 8:30 we have our hiking boots on and are out the door. The Chalet’s inhabitants quickly spread across the valley, their colorful jackets visible as they head up their chosen trails.
Last night, if I recall properly, before the Wietzen might have taken over, the conversation revolved around the word “trails”. Therefore, this morning I am searching for said “trails”. My thinking has always been that if you are hiking then a trail is what you hike on. And while there is indeed a “path” wide enough for a small field rodent, it only lasts for about 10 minutes until rocks the size of small cars begin to appear. It is at this point that I must begin using the word CLIMB – A word that will continue to be used for the following 12 hours. And climb we do. Within 60 minutes from where we started we are already facing some gnarly ridges. It is quickly becoming apparent that perhaps I’m a couple of notches past my level of expertise. As we climb higher, the ledges get smaller, the valley gets deeper and the fear more present. A handful of crosses marking where other climbers have died, does little to calm the dull bile of panic that is now rising in my throat.
“They probably died from heatstroke,” explains Ingo. Yeah … well maybe that or they fainted from heatstroke and then fell 2000 meters to their deaths. At one part I cannot see anything else below me other than the 2- foot ledge and my trembling feet. I can’t help thinking that it would be a shame to die in my BRAND new hiking boots.
While Vertigo is making me want to throw-up and my mind making me want to cry, I placate myself by thinking I’d probably die of shock before actually hitting anything sharp or hard. You work with what you get right. Looking over towards Alex and Ingo, this also does nothing to calm my fears as I watch them scurry as fast as they can off the dragons teeth. The rising bile is now 100 % full-fledged panic and it begins to take over; I stop (paralyzed) and re-assess (black-out). There are so many things going through my mind that it’s hard to sort through the essential info and what is simply unnecessary clutter. It’s not that this is any more dangerous than other things I've done (well it is kind of and unexpected), it’s simply that it’s unfamiliar and calls for new unfamiliar interpretations of what my instincts are trying to tell to tell me. I’m not sure what happened next. I just went for it … left right, grab, don’t fucking look, Goddamned Ingo, left, almost…going to kill him…Mommy…almost..there..this better be it…there..
Eventually I make it to a ledge that 10 minutes ago would have terrified me, but now feels big enough to land helicopter on. I’ve never been happier to say the words - WE DID IT! We look back at where we just were and howl as we see other climbers attempting the ridge. They look like tiny, tiny bugs from where we are standing and if anyone would have pointed them out before the climb I would have yelled, Are you out of your fucking mind?
The rest of the day is far less nerve wrecking, yet by no means easier. Our back up plan of cutting the hike a bit shorter and descending through the valley turns into a near 6 hour descent through rock fields, cliffs, shale, a few wrong turns and an almost missed “last tram” back up. It was a relentless day, the mountain more unforgiving than a mean school bully, taunting us at each new ledge and angle. Yet in the end, we finally DID make it and to have three good friends miles from home hoist a beer and once again say it aloud is well…a pretty addictive feeling.
The next day when leaving, Ingo points out a BIGGER peak and joking says that next year we should attack that. I keep quiet knowing that it’s an option, but I’m definitely learning how to read a map by that time!
