Filzmoos: Hiking, Biking and Relaxing in the Alps

Greetings from a tiny mountain town!

At almost the halfway point of this journey I thought it would be a good time to take a little vacation vacation. Thus far I have been very go, go, go minded, trying to get out and see as much as possible, pounding the pavement to experience, feel, taste, and laugh as much as I can and it has been awesome. I know how I like to travel and it's pretty fast paced; up in the morning and ready to collapse into bed at night. Four weeks in though, it is time for some serious relaxation, and the place I have chosen to do this is called Filzmoos, Austria.

I chose Filzmoos after deciding not to go to Ljubljana, the capital of of Slovenia. Once I had an idea how long I had to be on a train to get X miles away, Ljubljana seemed a little too far to go from Vienna. Instead I split that time between Salzburg and Filzmoos.

Though, it must be mentioned that Filzmoos isn't exactly easy to get to if you don't have a car. Following excellent directions from my AirB&B hostess I took a train from Salzburg to Bischofshofen into the heart of the alps and from there two busses from tiny town to tinier town to what can only be called a collection of buildings.

The trip into the alps has been my favorite leg so far. Watching the mountain range approach and being enveloped by the sheer faces covered in green grass was an amazing experience. The scenery is similar to home, mountainscapes thick with green forest climbing the sides. But even though they are similar, these are definitely not my mountains. For one they don't really have foothills, they just pop out of the ground. One moment one could be walking in a flat pasture and the next the ground is going up at a 70% angle, the steepness of them is astounding. Also that the meadows slide from the valleys up the sides of the mountains to a very distinct treeline and from thereon it's forest until the craggy stone caps at the top. It's all rather orderly.

I arrived at the collection of houses in a picturesque valley and soon found that my B&B was not actually in the town of Filzmoos but about three miles away in Neuberg. The directions from my hostess worked very well and a short walk later I was welcomed into my new home for the next few days.

And oh what luxury! I have my own room with a bathroom with a sink and toilet all to myself, a wardrobe and drawers and a light switch I have exclusive control over. I think I've adapted to hostel living pretty well, gotten fairly consistent good sleep, but man, to be back in a place with four walls between my snoozing self and any other sleeping person. It's luxury, I've slept so well and recuperated so much in the last three nights. I'm very happy I made this choice at this point in the journey.

Perhaps I was more run down than I had thought, because I didn't realize it could be a problem that I had just run out of cash, using my last Euros for the two busses here. My B&B bill was already paid online but I didn't have any food or way to buy any since most places don't take cards. I thought I would take a chance, and walked about a half mile to a roadside guesthouse and restaurant on the way to Filzmoos. I entered the silent main entrance, and carefully went through the interior door feeling like I was walking into someone's living room.

The two people at the table looked up very surprised at me.

"Are you open for dinner?" I asked. And their puzzled expressions reminded me of the dolt I am. Rural Austria, probably not nearly as English oriented as the cities. The woman at the table stood up and began talking very quickly in German, then when I looked just as puzzled she sighed and looked at me like the poor, young thing I am and said. "Essen, ja?" Which I know means "Food, yes?"

    "Ja!" I agreed, and sat down at a table in the completely empty restaurant. Quickly though I was back on my feet and took out my debit card. She shook her head sadly. Cash only.

I thanked her and left, walking slightly defeated and more hungry back to the B&B. I needed more info. From my hostess I found out that the nearest cash machine is in the town of Filzmoos, about an hour walk or 3 miles. Then she very, very kindly offered to let me use her bicycle. I accepted gratefully but she warned me, that it's steep, it might be too much for someone not used to cycling. But having been recently reintroduced to the wonder of bicycle travel in Copenhagen, Amsterdam and Köln I felt more than prepared. Hills be damned, I only had an hour or so before the bank and shops closed.

With shopping bag, wallet, and inhaler at the ready I started off on my new ride, a 24 speed mountain bike and together we headed up the road to Filzmoos.

Katja was not lying. The first two kilometers were very steep, most of it on a bike path by the side of the road but a good section on the road with busses swooshing past at 80 miles an hour. My legs burned and I stopped a couple of times to take drags off my inhaler but made fairly good time up the incline. The scenery provided an unimaginably beautiful distraction, traveling through the valley with mountains and forest rising on either side.

Thankfully only the first mile and a half or so were uphill and for the rest I could pedal along at a good pace, arriving into town with more than enough time to spare to find the bank, buy some groceries and explore the town a little bit. And by a little bit I mean ride through the two main streets and head back. Filzmoos is tiny, and seems to be completely supported by winter and summer tourism. All along the valley and into the town were motionless ski lifts. So I guess in winter skiing is really an everywhere thing, not just back down to where the lifts are collected.

Almost every building is a hotel or guesthouse sporting a cafe and without fail all of them are closed. I think I must be the very first tourist this year, heralding the new season like the return of the robin, or the first drop of rain in the calm before the storm...depending on your perspective.

The ride back to the hostel was much more exciting than the way to town, I prayed the bike would be as sturdy as it looked as I hurdled down the mountain road, wind rushing in my ears, hands white knuckled on the handlebars.

Soon I arrived back at the guesthouse and restaurant by the side of the road, parked the bike, walked in more confidently and said clearly "Essen bitte?" The lady running the place clearly hadn't expected to ever see me again, especially bedraggled and flushed from the flight back down the mountain. She broke into a big smile and laughed, continuing to talk to me in German while I smiled back and asked for a schnitzel. The schnitzel and french fries were delicious and I ate the whole thing.

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The next morning over a spectacular breakfast Katja informed me that it would probably rain on Thursday, so if I wanted to hike, I should probably put off my plan of working inside that day and hit the trails. So hit them I did, packing some food, water, sunscreen and my tablet I set off on the trail she suggested, this time intending to walk to Filzmoos.

The coolest thing I have learned about this area is that hiking here in the Alps is very different from how we do it at home. There it is a recreational activity, and here it is that and also a legitimate way to get around. At home you get in your car, drive to the trailhead, pack in all your food, supplies, camping gear, then hike back to your car and drive home. But here is an entire network of amenities for hikers. You can start from a hotel, hike all day through the wilderness to a bar on the trail for a beer. Then get on the trail again to another hostel or tiny town. It's an entire network of amenities provided for hikers.

For example I left my B&B, hiked about a mile and a half, and came across a 4 foot ice cream cone at the crux of two trails. The sign attached pointed to a dairy farm where they make their own ice creams. Another mile and a half later I was in the town of Filzmoos, with any number of trails to choose from. I had lunch and set off north in the direction of the largest mountain in the area and came across benches every half mile or so including one that was practically a couch. Another mile and a half later would have been a hostel or hotel.

It's not the rugged kind of hiking that America knows and loves but it's for people who aren't looking for a situation where they are more likely to get lost and freeze to death. Is different and definitely really cool.

Also, I was definitely passing through somebody's land, not a state agency or public land, but somebody's pasture. At first I wasn't sure if I was allowed to pass through closed gates, but there are signs around that say to please shut the gates behind you, keep dogs on a leash, keep to the path, and kindly stay away from the cows. Private owners allowing people to pass through their land with no more regulation than a sign that says to please be polite. Totally mindblowing.

Through the day I hiked five or six miles in the bright sunshine, getting burned to a crisp on my shoulders despite more or less constant sunblock application. On the way home when I reached the 4 foot ice cream I hung a right into the dairy farm.

They had a covered seating area that was completely empty except for one table with about ten people squeezed into it drinking beer and uproariously laughing every few minutes. I sat a little ways off and ate my homemade ice cream until as one, they all turned and looked at me then waved me over.

They invited me to sit with them, which I did, and once they found out I speak no German at all I believe had a wonderful time making good-natured fun of me. One lady across from me spoke English and she made polite conversation, translating necessary bits of information for the others at the table and from them back to me.

I managed to make them all laugh on purpose a few times and that was the best. Finding a way to transcend a language barrier to make the whole table bust into giggles was very fulfilling.

As the afternoon turned into evening, dark clouds rolled in and a cold wind picked up. I was getting ready to head off when one of the older ladies offered to give me a lift the last mile and a half home. I accepted and was very glad I did, not ten minutes after I arrived a storm blew in out of nowhere and pummeled the valley. Hail crashed onto the roof above my bedroom, lightning split the sky and the thunder echoed off the sides of the mountain seeming to gain purchase with every new boom.

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Filzmoos has been wonderful and restful, I spent my last day just working and sleeping, preparing for the next four weeks of go, go adventure. It's almost time to catch a bus to a bus to a train to a train to Innsbruck where I'll see Rowan again!