The European Hitch-Hiking Diaries: Part X

We had spent two days hiking up Zugspitze, the highest mountain in Germany, and exploring the surrounding hillsides. We woke up at around 2000m – just 1000 to go! – eager to get to the top.

The last day of our ascent began bright and early, surrounded by sheep, with the first trickle of eager walkers ahead of us, snaking their way up the mountain. We quickly packed up our tent, donned out rucksacks, and followed suit. The path wound its way past large mounds of loose rock, steadily gaining height. After 20 minutes or so the rock suddenly gave way to a large snow-covered bowl, at the far end of which the Zugspitzebahn (a cable car running up and down the mountain) could be seen.

The view from the top of Zugspitze!

The final hundred metres or so was a scramble up a very scree-filled rockface. There were ropes and small platforms to form something resembling a path along the cliff, all of which made for a tense and quite exciting climb (but I can see why some of the younger/larger climbers may take the cable car!). We found a beautiful bench perched on the ridge and stopped to enjoy the view before reaching the very top!

The very top of Zugspitze

The top of the mountain, somewhat disappointingly, housed a huge cable car station, a restaurant and a shop. There was a giant marker atop the very summit, complete with its own sketchy ladder, that made up for it though. We spent a long time basking in our achievement underneath it. The cable car took us back to ground level (for a very steep fee, I don’t recommend it if you’re on a budget, we would have walked had we time) and we made camp by a spa resort, taking advantage of their private swimming lake.

A platform on the swimming lake.

The next day we got up early to pack up and say goodbye to Chris. He shouldered his bag and left early, hoping to hitch-hike to Munich to catch his plane home that evening. Before he left he entrusted us with his stick from the day before, joking that he’d be amazed and impressed if we managed to get it all the way home – I assured him that we would, that we could make it a mission or a challenge. As Eoin and I packed up the tent and began to plan our own next move, setting off for an Internet cafe, we realised we’d already left it behind!

So, what happened next? Well, Eoin and Myself spent approximately a week hitchhiking across France. It truly is that difficult. Some days we waited for 5 hours at service stations for a single life, often which would take us just 60 km or so, dropping us beside the motorway where we would pitch a tent and fall into exhausted sleep, only to begin to the process anew the following day. Still, we made it.

Along the way we met a wonderful French lady that had decided her life needed “silly Fridays” and that, on the first Friday of each month, she would do something adventurous, something she had never done before. Luckily for Eoin and I picking up hitchhikers was one of these adventures as it bought us 600 km closer to our goal – and much richer by virtue of conversation! We picked up with this lady at a service station flanked by a gigantic metal Chicken (I’ve driven past it once since but I still have no idea where it is) and finished in Marseilles. Thank you French lady.

Once we neared the Pyranees our luck began to turn. The Spanish, it seems, are much more liable to lend a lift to travellers. We camped the first night, just over the Spanish border, in a picturesque village overlooking a stream. We woke in a cloud but not even the abundance of moisture could dampen our spirits. That day we flew, catching lifts as soon as we shed our previous one, making our way through the mountains until we reached the village where Eoin’s aunt lived, in the late afternoon.

The time at Eoin’s aunts was one of the happiest I have ever experienced: she inhabited a small village in Huesca, shared with several drop-outs (and please believe me that I mean that in the most positive, Tim Leary-esque manner), surrounded by miles of open countryside. Her house, which was being rebuilt and improved by WOOFers and volunteers, was beautiful (not to mention the domain of two tiny, ball-of-flull-cute kittens). The stars, last but most definitely not least, were the most magnificent I have ever seen.

We then made our way to Barcelona by bus and met my friend Henry who occupied us for several more blissful days until it was time to take myself back home.

The European Hitch-Hiking Diaries: Part IX

After arriving in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, following a slightly hellish escape from Munich, we begin to reccy the area and plan the hike for the next few days. Zugspitze, here we come.

Upon arriving in Garmisch, the Bavarian hiking capital, we set out to find 3 things: a place to have dinner, a place to spend the night and, most importantly, a map. The first of these was easily accomplished: we found a bench in a landscaped area between McDonald’s and the main street. As we ate our dinner – sandwiches, of course – we watched some incredibly tame sparrows as they variously bathed in dust and picked at the crumbs of forgotten food.

The next task was to find a map and plan our adventure. This, we found, was slightly more difficult – we’d arrived late in the afternoon and seemingly every shop in the town was closing. I ran around frantically until I found something that looked suitable, a small, touristy bookshop which the owners had no yet vacated, and dived inside to buy some supplies.

As we sat, pouring over our new map, wondering which route to take, a man arrived and peered at us over our map. He smiled and, once we’d established that we needed to communicate in English, he proceeded to talk us through several routes that he enjoyed. After some discussion with the man – he turned out to be the owner of an outdoors shop down the road, we promised to visit if we needed supplies – we picked our hike and set off into the Alps!

As we began our hike, the rain began in earnest. We walked, boots sloshing in the mud, until eventually the evening caught up with us and we decided to make camp. At this point, thankfully, the rain gave in and we sat, outside our tent, cooking by a fire. Our adventure had begun!

Our first camp fire!

The first day of hiking was tough. The surrounding landscape is beautiful beyond belief – Bavaria has a reputation well deserved. We hiked through fragrant pine woodland; up steep tracks of natural, rocky steps; past a huge river, strewn with fallen trees, ripped from it’s banks. Eventually we emerged from the treeline, soaking wet (the rain didn’t relent at all, all day) and tired, to be greeted by real Bavarian cows – with real Bavarian bells! We were also gifted to our first glimpse of snow, a breath-taking sunset and some incredible hot chocolate at the Hutte. We spent the night, alongside a second group of campers, sheltered from the path and surrounded by cows.

The Hutte we camped by, Konigshaus, is home to the Alpengarten, a picturesque garden jam-packed with Alpine plants, and situated next to THE KINGS HOUSE

The next day we awoke feeling damp and arthritically-stiff. A cow had spent much of the night chomping grass right outside our tent; it’s bell clunking with each movement of it’s head. Definitely not so cute now! As the sun rose in height and strength we lay our sodden clothing upon the nearby bushes to dry and set about cooking some breakfast. The sudden onslaught of the storm the night before had left us unable to make a fire and we were very hungry!

After lying, lizard-like, soaking up as much sunlight as we could manage, we hoisted our bags once more and set off. Not long into our journey, just past the Hutte we’d visited the night before, we found an incredible panoramic vista. The views are literally breathtaking. The banner image for this post was taken in the same spot!

Us by the vista!

We spent the rest of the morning scrambling down the steepest and crumbliest ‘path’ I have ever experienced. At times we were clinging to the meagre rope banisters for dear life – the rocks underfoot were loose and would often tumble downhill trigger miniature avelanches. Still, it was a welcome change from going upwards, albeit slightly disheartening given we knew any altitude lost would have be be retaken later.

After two hours or so, we came to a cross-roads and stopped for a pick-me-up: trailmix. Again, a blessing we had found in the local Lidl, the cheapest and highest calorie/protein content we could find! It even had some chocolate in it, a definite bonus. We then turned to our left and began the slow and steady ascent of Zugspitze.

All that day we hiked, for around 5 more hours. We had to race against time as we saw very few places to camp – our best bet was to make it to the Knorr Hutte, sitting just above the 2000m mark. We passed a great many mountain bikers and other hikers, dwindling in number as the day progressed, and also the most spectacular waterfall I have ever seen: it emerged from a cavern high in a cliff, water billowing out and falling to the river below.

The last part of the day’s climb was the most taxing; we were exhausted and the light was failing. We hauled ourselves up ever-steeper slopes, clothed in scree, until eventually we saw the hut above us. When we arrived we found patches of snow (in July!), a host of merry, singing Germans and the best campsite in the world. Result!

The campsite, a beautiful ring of stones with an even more beautfiul view.

We hastily set up our tent and returned to the hutte, savouring a pint and a meal of salty (but nonetheless delicious) lentil stew. We sat basking the success of the day and enjoying the quiet, cool mountain evening, watching the full moon rise in the valley.

The European Hitch-Hiking Diaries: Part VIII

After spending some time in the German capital, enjoying the life of hedonism it is so famous for, we were heading south. We’d passed Leipzig and were making good progress. Our first destination was Munich, beyond that, the Alps!

We jumped into a new lift, our third of the day: a sleek, fast BMW saloon. The driver, a senior engineer at the car manufacturer, was making a marathon journey from Oxford to Munich, where his family were returning after several years in England.

We sped South in the immaculate car, easily toeing 250 km/h for much of the journey – the perks of working in the automotive industry, I guess! We discussed England with him, particularly the climate and the ale, two things dear to any Briton’s heart, and were more than happy to find he shared a healthy appreciation of both; he said he had two cases of various ales in the boot, ready for his new home in Bavaria!

Surprisingly, most of our lifts in Germany came from male businessmen, often driving reasonably expensive cars and making long journeys to work. This demographic made up almost all of our lifts for the first few weeks.

As we travelled south the countryside got steadily grander and more impressive: the road passed over several great bridges, high above the valley and offering incredible vistas of the river below. We eventually neared our destination and, upon hearing our desire to spend the evening in a beer garden, our driver took us into the heart of the city so we could visit a favourite of his.

Munich, München, Minga, Monaco; a city with many names – the last (and most ambiguous!) being the Italian version, thrown in for good measure. The city, capital of Bavaria, the picturesque south-eastern region of Germany, is most famed for it’s beer and it’s celebration of it: Oktoberfest. We arrived near Englischer Garten, a huge park near the city’s university and home to it’s second largest beer garden.

We strolled through the park – apparently it’s bigger than Central Park! – past what appeared to be a small (and very civil) evening rave, several bizarre bikes and finally over a very pretty stream, until we found a huge Chinese-style pagoda. A brass band played from somewhere above and the enticing benches were full of merry people. We promptly found a table, sat down and ordered a maßkrug apiece.

Hofbrauhaus beer at Englischer Garten

Once happily sated, we set off to find somewhere to spend the night. We plumped for a camp site – we’d been recommended one of these too, Camingplatz Thalkirchen, in the south of the city and near the road we planned to take in the morning. The site was near the river running through the city, and by a large and attractive park. We arrived too late to find any food and, once again, went to bed hungry.

The camp site is really reasonably priced. During Oktoberfest the prices rise considerably, and space is, apparently, difficult to come by. In July however, there were a lot of spaces and a very relaxed atmosphere.

Leaving Munich proved less than easy. We woke up and headed for the E353/A95, as directed by the camp site receptionist. This wasn’t such a long walk, 3 kilometers or so, but the day was hot and our bags quickly weighed us down. The motorway, it is fair to say, is not one that is easy to hitch-hike from. It took us almost 3 hours to find a spot to hitch from – for once Hitchwiki was not in the slightest bit helpful. We walked to Neurieder Straße where a sliproad leads to the A95, right by a sign to ‘Garmisch-P’, then walked a further 500m up the street to a petrol station, passed by lots of traffic.

It’s probably much easier to catch a bus or the U3 U-Bahn to Fürstenried West than walk. Little did we know.

We got a lift after around 20 minutes of waiting and, once more, sped southwards towards the mountains. Once on the road it was easy  to get lifts; the Alps are notoriously easy to hitch-hike in and we found they more than lived up to their reputation. It took us 3 cars to make it to Garmisch-Partenkirchen, the Bavarian hiking it-spot, in which time we were given a brief history about the area and, more importantly, had made up our minds which mountain to climb: Zugspitze, Germany’s biggest.