The weather forecast had been too good and with no other commitments that day, I had grabbed my hiking gear, had jumped into my beaten-up BMW and taken the motorway heading south…..
With the border to Tyrol just a few kilometres away, what beckoned was the massif of the two emperors – the tame and the wild Kaiser. In between the two, the much smaller Feldberg and the sheltered Kaiserbach valley, as a buffer, a cushion, to keep the two apart.
Away from the chronically congested motorways that were crossing Europe’s mountainous heart, here remained an island of calm, a reminiscence of a time when life was slower, when the days were ruled by the movement of the sun and the passing of the seasons.
Four lanes turned to two and then then just to one, with the occasional cattle grid that shook the car as I drove across them. Brown dairy cows, ruminating sedately on the fields to the left and to the right, and eventually even in the middle of the road. The car slowed down, the world around me slowed down.
Arriving at Griesner Alm, I stopped and took with me only the few things required for a few hours of hiking on a very forgiving trail in the Alps at the end of the summer: a light jacket, a water bottle, a cap against the sun and a pair of gloves for the exposed sections that were secured with steel wires.
The path criss-crossed its way gently, but unrelenting up the southern flank of the Feldberg for about 2500 feet, while the sun appeared to have forgotten that it was already autumn in Northern Europe.
After a couple of hours, I had reached the ubiquitous cross on the summit. A minor achievement compared to the effort required for the far more demanding trails on the other side of the valley, where only the most resilient vegetation was able to cling to the bare rocks. That Kaiser was well and truly wild….
What followed, was a not too challenging ridge walk, with an emperor on each side and an uninhibited view across the Northern Alps, followed by a rapid descend to the Stripsenjochhaus, a well-maintained mountain shelter, resting on the slim saddle between Stripsenkopf and Karlspitzen. The gloves in my pack came handy on the sections, where steel cramps and thick cables connected to the rock were used to mitigate the risk of sliding, especially when the conditions were less favourable.
The generous distribution of managed cabins in the Alps remains unrivalled in the mountainous regions of the world and a glass of cold beer and a simple meal at the Stripsenjochhaus seemed a fair reward for my efforts today.
With this being the end of the hiking season, the refuge was less busy now and having secured a comfortable place in the afternoon sun, there was no better thing to do, than to continue with my literary excursion into the criminal underworld of Norway’s capital, while enjoying the output of the cabin’s Italian espresso machine and watching the shadows of the rugged outcrops of the mountain’s north face growing longer and longer.
Bright red and white way markings and the occasional, unofficially erected cairn were now lining the trail back into the valley, and with the trailhead already in sight, the use of a map became superfluous.
The trail passed through sections of earlier rock falls, emphasising the fragile existence of the buildings and the peaceful scenery of the valley below me. A constant threat, but not one to worry about today….
Well before sunset I had returned to my car. With dusty boots, an empty water bottle in my bag, but with recharged batteries for the next rainy days ahead….
