Wednesday, February 28, 2024

Chomping at the bit

After our long summer hikes, I'm usually okay until mid-October. Then I start obsessively plotting and pining for the next hikes. Komoot is my best friend once winter hits, enabling hours of fantasizing. In January and February, we align all of our ducks--routes, huts and rifugios and hotels, and transportation to and from. Then we wait. And fantasize. And wait some more, chomping at the bit, until summer comes.

Our goal this summer is to finish crossing the Alps. When I google "crossing the Alps," I learn we already did that last summer, since "crossing" means crossing over the highest range. Last summer, we crossed over the Brenner Pass to Sterzing, so yeah, we've already crossed the Alps. 

But we're choosing to interpret "crossing" as entering the Alps from the north and exiting from the south. 

This year, the plan is to start where we left off last year, in Sterzing, and hike through parts of the Dolomites to Feltre. Feltre isn't quite at the southern edge of the Alps, but it's flat enough for us to say "close enough" after 13 days of hiking. We considered other end points, including Venzone and Verona, but we couldn't include Dolomites and still pack the whole route into two weeks. At some point, I got tired thinking about hiking longer than that.

Chomp chomp

We're following the same Rules as in previous years. Transportation via train, bus, or car is allowed only at the endpoints, to get to and from the hike itself. During the hike, transportation assistance is limited to modes that make acrophobes weak in the knees--i.e. exposure therapy. Our planned route thus includes a few gondola lifts plus one funicular.

Because obsessing on Komoot gives me something to do while I pine for this hike, I've also plotted out escape routes, in case it snows in June or we're exhausted or a mountain crumbles. It's good to have options.

For a while, I fantasized about hiking all the way from Steinebach to Greece, over, say, ten years. While researching this idea this past fall, my plans stalled in the mountains along the Croatian coastline. The Croatian Long Distance Trail is relatively new--still new enough that I don't think we could do it without camping alog the trail, which is illegal (in theory, though clearly people do it). I suspended the idea when I read a 2021 blog post by a hiker who held their breath while walking through a kilometer-long unmaintained stretch known to have landmines left over from the Bosnian War. Older maps of the European long-distance E6 trail, which overlaps in parts with the Croatian Long Distance Trail and the Via Dinarica, show a route running from Finland all the way to Greece; more recent maps end in southern Croatia and connect to Greece with ferries. Maybe this summer's hike will motivate me to revisit this...

Wednesday, July 19, 2023

Donausteig - Day 6 - Ottensheim to Linz plus Salzburg

Day 6: Ottensheim to Linz

Having already gone sightseeing in Linz on Day 5, I had ample time to take the longer north-of-the-Danube route into Linz on Day 6. This was the route that the Donau Bus ferry driver had recommended if I wanted to see more hilltop views than woods. I was happy to have some hills to climb and to avoid the deer keds.

I said farewell to Ottensheim...



...and followed the Danube east for a bit...



...until heading up into the hills. This curve in the road reminded me of the Schloegener Schlinge...




My climb took me up to some local maxima...


...where the views were sufficient to confirm local-maxima-ness, without the risk of knocking anyone's socks off. The benches and picnic table made me appreciate the effort it must have taken to schlepp these (or the components for building these) up the hill.


Local maximum:


Another local maximum, with another schlepped bench and table:


As I approached Linz, trail signs shifted from German (Donausteig) to Denglisch (Donau Trail).


"Climb mountains not so that the world can see you; climb so that you can see the world."  


Another apex in the distance: the pilgrimage church Pöstlingberg. Getting there meant hiking down into a gulley and then back up on the other side. 


A few more miles of hiking, and voila:



The name of this Wallfahrtsbasilika is Sieben Schmerzen Mariae (the seven sorrows of Mary) 


Obligatory organ photo:


Ah, love:


Scenic view looking down toward Linz. Nearby signs told me that Original Linzer Torte could be had up here too.


Then it was down, down, down into Linz.




Since I had satisfied my touristy needs the day before, I paused for lunch, then headed to the train station. This sculpture--Der Ring des Nibelungen--stands in the Volksgarten near the Landestheater/Musiktheater. It was sponsored by a jewelry store. 



By the time I arrived at the train station, I still had not purchased any Linzer Torte in Linz. All of the Linzer Torte advertised in bakeries in the touristy part of town seemed too touristy to buy, so instead I found a bakery in the train station and bought two Linzerschnitten (basically the shape Linzer Torte would be cut into if it were made as a sheet cake instead of round). Lest anyone worry that a train station bakery might not be up to par, I also bought a piece of raspberry cake that I ate--as a control piece, in the name of research--while waiting for my train. The raspberry Schnitte was just as good as any I've had elsewhere, so I concluded that the Linzerschnitten would adequately represent Linz. 


Ta da! 12.7 miles walked, ~2,350 ft. elevation gain.

Bonus tourism: Salzburg

Rather than taking a fast train from Linz all the way to Munich, I bought a fast-train ticket to Salzburg, then took advantage of the Deutschland Ticket to get the rest of the way home. (The ticket generally includes the first train station across the border to neighboring countries.) 

I had planned out a "quick 3-mile loop between trains" in advance, as though (1) it's possible to limit any visit to Salzburg to just an hour and (2) trains would be running on time. Because the Salzburg-Munich route is a popular one, trains ran at least once every hour, giving me some departure-time flexibility. My one-hour loop expanded into two, with whirlwind zip through and above Salzburg.

My advice: if you have limited travel time and have to choose between Linz and Salzburg, choose Salzburg. It's just as touristy, but less industrial, with way more architectural splendor.

Highlights included:

A statue of three musicians in the Kurgarten:


Back when I was a regularly performing professional musician, I had a recurring nightmare--for years, until I learned to set two alarm clocks--about struggling struggling struggling against the wind and rain to get to work on time, arriving horribly late but starting to play anyway, and only when people looked up to see where the music was coming from did I notice I was completely naked. And that's why this sculpture is so scary.


Mirabellgarten:



I was pleased to see that Salzburg participates in the Stolpersteine remembrances. Never forget.


Interior of the Kollegienkirche. It was practically empty--just me, another tourist enthusiastically taking advantage of the acoustics by singing baritone solos, and his spouse and child with expressions on their faces that said "yes, he does this all the time." It was great.



Music store advertising display: Mozart and the Sound of Music cover the tourist bases...



In my rush to zip through town, I had a no-backtracking policy, which meant I missed Mozart's birth-house--but the house where Konstanze Mozart lived with her children and second husband from 1820 to 1826 was an acceptable substitute. 


The Dom was inaccessible due to preparations for the Salzburger Festspiele, a six-week long music and performing arts festival. So close, and yet so far; we'll add the Festspiele to the wish list for a future visit. 


I walked around the Dom...


...to the other side...


...and ended up in the Petersfriedhof...  


...and then the Benedictine abbey Sankt Peter. Some parts of this building date back to the 7th century C.E., with most of the core dating from the 12th century. 



Look ma, no pipes!


(Some pipes are still in place toward the front of the church.)


After hundreds of years, stone steps show some wear and tear...


Next up, the Franziskaner Kirche. The church was likely completed in 1223 C.E., with updates over the centuries.



While I generally admire the truffly enthusiastic kitsch of over-the-top Baroque churches, a good vaulted Gothic ceiling takes the cake any day. This ceiling was built with 900-year-old scaffolding technology! 


I headed across the Salzach river for some elevation gain and views over the city. Here's a crosswalk button that I pushed while waiting for the traffic signal to change. As a USAmerican, I naturally saw this icon not as a human stepping over a zebra-stripe crosswalk, but as an angry man in heavy boots carrying an AR-15.


To head up the Kapuzinerberg, I took some steps up...


...and up...


...and up...


...and up.


The climb was rewarded with good views...



...and more steps.



Here's a memorial to Mozart; let's pretend I intentionally aimed for this instead of the composer's birth house. The plaque says "Jung gross, spaet erkannt, nie erreicht" ("young great, late recognized, never surpassed").


There were steps back down too. Treppenfinder.com says there are 180 steps, but I don't know if those are the steps that I took on the way up or the ones I took on the way down.





Pretty decent coverage for two a two hour visit, and definitely worth coming back.