This was my most difficult day up here in the mountains. We left the broader hiking-trails completely, finally turning to the really steep climbs. The trail we intended to take had been described to us yesterday as being a little precarious (I heard somebody else calling it 'spooky' ... and he was right!) due to continuously deteriorating conditions and plenty of loose rock and gravel. We had also been told that part of the route would involve a rather strenuous hand-over-hand climb, requiring the use of a rope, but I must say that I had only a vague idea of what to expect until the route was pointed out to us from an elevated point of view on the way to our starting point this morning. I looked and thought it wasn't possible ... surely we weren't meant to take that way! It looked far to steep.
I suddenly began to doubt being able to make it, knowing it would be extremely demanding and difficult and I got a very strange feeling in my stomach, somewhere between excitement and anxiety. Then again, I knew that our guide wouldn't take us there if he thought we wouldn't be able to make it, so I decided to stop worrying and just hang in there.
We had to descent for quite a while at first, going down a deep gorge, only to make the stiffest climb up again after we reached the bottom. Ascending on the other side we came across several memorial stones and crosses, reminiscent of those mountaineers who weren't quite so lucky - something I didn't find exactly reassuring to say the least.
When we left the marked trail, the path became so narrow that I thought I might lose my balance if I ever stopped putting one foot in front of the other, so I just kept moving in a slow but constant rhythm instead. The higher we got the less keen I actually felt to stop anyway – a brief glance to my right had clearly presented the deepest ravine and sharpest hillside I had walked along so far, going straight down a few hundred metres right beside my feet and I sure didn't want to explore that any further, feeling not so sure about having overcome my acrophobia, my fear of heights. I knew I would start to feel giddy the moment I looked down so I chose to stare ahead instead, trying to divert my thoughts, taking them off any unwanted speculation about possible unpleasant occurrences, which wasn't an easy task at all, blessed as I am with a rather vivid imagination. I'm fascinated by depths just about as much as I am afraid of them, which might just prove that attraction and aversion are never far apart.
Anyway, if you want to have a fair impression of me climbing that mountain, just imagine a somewhat wispy being in short trousers and heavy mountain boots with a rather tense (but pretty obstinate) facial expression, clinging to a rope so tightly that her knuckles start to turn white while her head turns pink in a vigorous effort to make it to the summit and down again ...
That trail was really wild, disappearing into nothingness every now and then, forcing us to cross rather profound chasms with giant strides (those with shorter legs were clearly at a disadvantage ...). Those crevices seemed to be bottomless and I definitely knew why that guy at the lodge had called this route 'spooky'! For once, none of us had much of an eye for the beautiful landscapes all around us, being far too concentrated, focusing on nothing but the way in front of our feet. Also we were far too exhausted by then, only wanting to 'get there'.
When we reached our arrival point in the late afternoon I felt I had gone to my very limits, physically as well as mentally. I will not say that it didn't feel good, it did, very much so, but it was so very hard to go through with it.
We all needed time for contemplation, coming to terms with our own achievement. Every single one of us may have had his or her own doubts or worries in the beginning and yet we all made it, going straight forward instead of backing out, facing and fighting our very own demons, literally going to 'the places that scare us'.
Slowly recovering from the physical effort we started to joke and laugh again, talking about how everyone of us had his own way of coping with the givens of such a tour. Of course there were jokes again about me and my presumed fear of heights, the others telling me that I surely always remain ahead of my fear if I keep on hiking at my speed. I asked the guide whether they were right, if I was too lightheaded, bringing myself into danger by walking too fast but he reassured me that I seemed cautious and sure-footed enough to him, not like bringing myself into unnecessary danger and also never loosing touch with the group which was important from his point of view. He also said that of course we would have to walk or climb differently if ever we got into bad weather, that it couldn't be compared to how it was today and that certainly we all needed more experience until we were able to evaluate our own abilities in a realistic way regarding certain situations. I think it also makes a big difference if you make such a tour on your own or with a guide. In our group of eight I think there is only one experienced enough to make it on his own or even lead others. Well, - I will not give up, I will come back to the mountains, learning and making my experiences, one by one, in my own time, not hurrying it or putting myself under pressure.
But that will have to wait, because now - unfortunately - it's more or less time to go home, back to Germany. Tomorrow we will need a rest after this challenging climb today, planning a little 'relaxation walk' to a nearby village only. Coming back here it will be time to pack and prepare for the journey home the following morning. I will go by car instead of flying back, which means a drive of 10 hours. Somehow it will be more natural to see the landscape changing slowly, it always seems a bit abrupt to me, arriving somewhere by plane. Of course it's pretty comfortable and also there are distances one can't make in a car in time, but still ... it's strange and somewhat unnatural I think.
I'll say goodbye from Austria here. Of course I am sad to leave but I see it more relaxed now than a few days ago. I have had such a wonderful time here and I don't want to spoil it by becoming sad or depressed in any way. I want to keep all my lovely experiences in my memory without any bad thoughts diluting them. I have grown so fond of the mountains and of the people here. Most of them I have not known when I arrived and now we depart as friends. We got along just great and have had such a lot of fun and wonderful experiences together, from the very beginning it felt as if we had known each other for years. It's extremely unusual for me to open up to a group of strangers like that, to trust them and feel so much at ease, so comfortable with them. But I did here. Another new but lovely experience I am grateful for.
So, this is it. I hope I didn't bore you too much. But then again: you had a choice, didn't you?
Anyway, thanks to anyone who took the time to read and follow my 'adventures' up here in the mountains!
Servus and Grüaß Euch
(Austrian greeting)
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