It is possibly morning, the rising of the sun makes no difference to the intensity of light in the Batcave, however Nick rises, submits to a shower and shave, dons boots and breakfast, then shoulders his pre-packed (umm) pack. The bus is at the station as is Trish, John and Sheila - and Nicole about 30, from the North German coast, therefore unused to heat and sun, two metres tall! The lady driving the bus whisks them up to Steinbach and throws them out. After a half hour stroll the cable carers peel off and the summiteers carry on, the temperature is hovering about 25. After about 100 metres of ascent, with Trish asking every person coming the other way if they've been to the top, they haven't, she eventually strikes unlucky as one replies that the way is shut, "A, how you say, avalanche". They crest the bend and look up, about 50 metres up, white balls of snow cover the obvious ascent route, there is however a knob with a cross on it in view so they decide that that might do as an alternative, for photographic purposes. A very jolly German gentleman lifts the potentially electrified fence for them, and even more obligingly takes the necessary photos. As they leave to cable car up Trish decides the fence isn't electrified - it is. The ascent and the tour of the top are accompanied by a litany of, "I think we could have done it." despite there having been another small avalanche in the meantime. Slowly a look of dawning horror comes over Nick's chiselled visage as he realises that this means they will now be descending the mountain on foot, rather than ascending.
The map is consulted, ignored, consulted, "We could've..." John and Sheila swing into view and are persuaded to descend with them, this is a fillip, as it will slow things down.
"O Jesus no!"
"Roight, we'll be goin' down here then."
Nick, with the map is trying to steer to the bus stop as he reckons the timings are right, sadly the path that leads there, is a snow field that disappears around a blind bend, potentially to ... Doom! So they turn to the alternative which puts them yet another valley away from a) The Bus Stop, and b) The town. At the bottom of the (first) steep descent they watch a marmot family playing, and then proceed past the Thorau Alm:
John "Will we go in, Sheila do you want to go in for a drink? Nick?"
Scenting prey the Alm Frau vocally touts her wares.
John "No we won't go in. Sheila? Nick? Nick do you fancy a drink?"
Alm Frau after a brief listen plays her trump card, one of her two beautiful dirndl clad maidens chimes,
"We have cake!"
John "Do you have beer?"
"Yes we have beer."
John "Sheila, Nick, do you fancy a drink. Nick? Nick!"
They stop for beer, coffee, water and cake. Both the dirndl maidens are on holiday from being an air handling plant order processor or a tax advisors assistant. Their holiday consists of serving beer and cake to passing walkers, and apparently acting as the refreshment Lorelei of the mountain.
"You look like you've got a bit of Irish in you, have you Irish parents?"
The maiden blushes and her co-worker laughs.
"Why are you laughin' now?"
"Someone asked me the same question two days ago."
After John finishes his second beer, they set off, the path turns into a road and continues downhill at about 1 in 5 for a mile or two, Nick's already well-turned calf now resembles the best Chippendale. Finally back to town, a sluice (the salt content of Ruhpolding's run-off must be enormous) and dinner, with too much relief drink. Nick returns to his tomb-like room and, appropriately, sleeps the sleep of the dead.
In celebration of being alive Nick decides to take a bike and do the Rothelmoos Alm circuit, sadly Ziggy is spoken for so he takes number 11 and names it, appropriately, Legolas. The start of the ride is through pasture waiting to be cut for hay, sporting lots of flowers, it then turns to a road by a stream, before turning into a forestry track, before turning into the ascent to Everest Basecamp. He stops to talk to some Germans who advise an e bike, before returning to the Anapurna trail, which tops out with the view of a waterfall. He ties Legolas steaming to a tree and rubs his trembling flanks with some hay. They continue, now on the flat, before bursting into the arena of the alm, there are mountains, an alm house selling beer (this opens up a whole new prospect for alms houses), and cows all over the place, COWS ALL OVER THE PLACE!
"Ein Weisbier bitte."
"Any food?"
"Weisbier is food."
They chat, "Your English is very good."
"My boyfriend is Australian."
At this point he must have lost his presence of mind, as he should have said, "Despite that your English is very good." Sadly, he didn't realise this until the evening, he was probably tired.
The descent from the alm is put on a slight hiatus while he cycles to tell the Germans as they return from the other alm house that indeed the alm house that he has just vacated does indeed sell beer.
"Is it cold beer?"
"Yup."
"Good, they, " cursory reverse nod, "Only have warm beer."
Then down the Wappach valley next to the tumbling stream, the path wiggles a bit, but is still down and coastable, at the bottom, across the road from the roadworks there is the Weitsee, surrounded by a blue haze of plants. The recommended onward path dips into the lake and re-emerges on the other side, at the moment the path is occupied by a couple with a newborn, when the water gets chest high - or head high for Nick, the newborn is held aloft, like a cup. Nick admires their elan, and continues to approach by going around to the other side, passing the naked man and bethonged lady,"Gruss Teg!"
"Surprised mumble"
He continues until the road dips into the lake, and then returns via a different route across back to the main road. Suddenly Auntie Nelly comes to mind, somewhat confused he looks about and discovers himself in a decline filled with strangely familiar plants, fleshy leaves with little white bells falling from a central stalk, it is Lily of the Valley, in - a valley. Now he is heading homeward down a forestry path that presumably parallels the main road. It does but occasionally it throws in dark blue bells of gentian (usually higher)
and insectivorous butterwort (the same). Suddenly he finds himself riding beside Forchaussee, a lake that trends from a light turquoise to dark black-blue, it is as clear as crystal, the bodies of dead trees loom up from the bottom and large trout plane the surface.More coasting, until home, then back for more risky spaing, this time the toes remain intact and the sauna is sullied by his taut buttocks.
In the evening he chats to Steve, his next door table person, over wine, about university, there is much anguish and wringing of hands, in the morning there will be ringing in ears.
The next day may have dawned, as it is Nick gets up and has breakfast, then declares a rest day, he sets of for the other lift in Ruhpolding, the Rauschbergerbahn. It takes about an hour and a half to get there by foot, including a last one in three hill just to get you into the spirit of things. As it is low season the lift timetable is a little ramshackle but present. Nick ascends the Rauschberg, with a family, an elderly couple (that's his seat gone) and a young woman with an Akita, there is some concern from most people as to how this small wolf may react as the ascent begins. Actually it yawns and lies down.
As Nick leaves the lift the first thing he hears are Blackcock in a lek, sadly he can't see them, and the territory is more suited to abseiling than birdwatching. After perusing the map he elects to walk around and along to the highest peak, there's a few small snowfields in the way but nothing too exercising, the track dwindles to a path between low pine, the ground punctuated by roots and rocks, it contours around the shoulder of the mountain and then turns back and up. Another religious lightning attractor sits on the top, there is a small fence and - nothing. A small path continues, but it becomes obvious that it has only been walked the other way, after the first few pinous face swipes he turns and retreats.
On the way back he meets various Germans, who talk about snow and the avalanche on the Hochfelln, they think they wouldn't have wanted to do it, Nick nods sagely. He also comes across a field of wild crocus, his favourite thing to find on the mountain in early season, there being the usual paucity of willing maidens, which would otherwise be his favourite.
The return takes him to the Windbeutel, where he has to stop for the famous Windbeutel Lohengrin
He returns to the hotel to catch up on a spot of digestion before dinner.
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