In 1981 we went on a long trek to the Lindauerhütte, setting out by walking to the southern end on Lünersee and taking the path towards the impressive mountain next to Schweizertor.
Lünersee, at an altitude of approximately 2000 m. is the center of a huge number of walks, in all directions, and in our twenty summers in Brand, we have probably taken them all.
We had planned on spending the night there and coming back the next day. Sepp Königer told us that there would be no problem getting sleeping places, if we referred to him, saying we were Königer guests. Wrong. We arrived in the afternoon on this gorgeous sunny day after a very interesting but fairly tiring walk. The mountains bordering on Switzerland on our right. we had a good meal on the terrace in the sun, BUT there was just one Matratzenlager left. If we could spend the night, the two of us on the floor on one mattress, it was all right. We decided we could not. The host (Hüttenwirt) said we could ‘just‘ walk to the village 8 km away, to the railroad that would take us to Bludenz, and from there we would get to Brand. It would be just a short walk he said and no problem. Right.
We walked and walked and walked, through a forest and through fields on some kind of path, then along a sand roadway by a stream. Our feet got sorer and sorer. We had not yet learned to put a pair of thin inner socks inside the woolen ones. However, we made it, a bit the worse for wear, to the railroad, and we took the next train to Bludenz. From there, we took a taxi to Haus Kella-Egg. We had had it with what we call ‘strapatser’ in Swedish — hardship. I don’t remember if we got anything to eat that evening, but I am sure we got something, if nothing else, Gerti would give us a sandwich or something as we arrived pretty exhausted and pretty late. And with sore feet!
Saulajoch – Saulakopf – Saulajochsteig
The ‘path’ (if that is a proper word for the rocky things you balance on here) that we very likely took the most often of all the high mountain paths, was Saulajochsteig (Steig = steep path) from a distance looking like a somewhat lighter colored line on the side of the mountain. The very first time we took the Seilbahn up to Douglashütte and Lünersee, I saw with great fear the line on the mountain to the east and said famously “There I will never walk. That’s for Gemsen (mountain goats) only.”
From Douglashütte at the top of the Seilbahn we many many times walked east towards Lünerkrinne and from there on to the gorgeous beloved Saulajocch. On the way we took the shortcut via ‘Königersteig‘, so named by the Langes who claimed that Sepp had found the path and inaugurated it. However that may be, it was not a path for small children and alpine beginners. In the middle of the path, for quite a long stretch, the mountain comes right down to the ‘path’ and more or less does away with it. I always put my hand on the side of the mountain to feel more secure and where there was no path you just had to try and find a rock that would hold your foot. (The path to Südschafgafall (Gafall = slope) where we also went several times, was pretty much the same on a short stretch.) We got very used to ‘Königersteig‘ though’, and it did not seem hairy any more after the first time or so.
Then, after Königersteig, came the glorious opening up of a vast valley, which is called Saulajoch since it actually is a Joch (a pass from one region to another). The absolutely fabulous flowers that we saw in this fairy-tale valley is impossible to describe. There were masses of Alpenrosen (wild azalea), enormous carpets of Silberwurz (Sw. fjällsippa, mountain avens – Dryas octopetala)), and especially the far more rare Feld Kleinenzian and the delicate Troddelblume (Soldanella, a primulaceae flower), which I believe was and is my favorite ever of all the gorgeous flowers we got to know and love in the Alps.
The masses of wonderful flowers made for a huge part of our love of the Alps. There was more to it than just the gorgeous scenery and the fun walking and climbing. The incredibly wonderful flora in the forests, meadows and on the stony areas high up with no grass — Totalp being the best example of this — played a big part in our desire to come back year after year. John got to be as great a lover as I was of blooming meadows, all the various gentians higher up, and the deep purple Akelei and big bluebells in the lower forests. Akelei is columbine in English, and we had seen some in the Colorado Rocky Mountains in ’79.
Then came the Saulajochsteig back to Lünersee. I have said enough in the captions to the pictures about ordinary walking conditions. So here comes the BIG story.
On John’s birthday August 8, 1984, we took the Saulajochsteig both ways, since it was the shortest way of getting to Saulakopf, the first mountain we climbed during these twenty years.We were not yet hardened mountain climbers, and I was as tense as can be when I held on to one boulder and climbed forward-upward with great care. Wherever there were cables, I of course felt a lot safer. There is a sign in the valley pointing to the path to Saulakopf telling hikers and climbers “Nur für Geübte. Trittsicherheit erdorderlich, Bergschuhe und Schwindelfreiheit.” No problem, said John and Siv.
Saulakopf is the mountain to the north of Saulajoch, which serves as background to a lot of pictures from Saulajoch. The way up to the peak of Saulakopf, after a pleasant zigzag climb over a grassy hillside, then got to be nothing but huge boulders. John was much more fearless than I was. He wrote in our Tagebuch though, that “there were cables in some places and other places where there should have been. I must have missed my footing once since I actually scratched up the inside of my right hand some, and John — ever the perfect gentleman — tied his handkerchief around it.
We made it to the top, however, and it was the most gemütlich group of people we have ever met on a mountain peak. John had run out of film, and one fellow gave him a roll. Also some fearless youngsters were sitting on the edge of the mountain top, their legs dangling over the void. I was NOT broken in yet as a mountain climber and after this day I had the sorest leg muscles I have ever had in my life, mainly due to my tenseness while climbing through the huge boulders, both up and down. I could hardly walk up and down the stairs in Haus Kella-Egg for a couple of days..
As we got down, we saw heavy clouds gathering in the west and we got out our rain tents that we had bought in Norway in ’82. We always carried those in our packs. We were ready for heavy rain. Little did we know what we were in for.
We met a family in the valley by the sign where the path takes off to Saulakopf. The man had a polaroid camera and after we took a picture of him and his family, he took this picture of us (below) in our Helly Hansen rain tents. We were all in a good mood, thinking that we were now in for a good rain and a bit of an adventure. Well, it got to be a bit more dramatic than we had counted on.
It was raining now, a normal shower, as we were getting close to the Saulajochsteig.
Then came the cloudburst. And it was not just an ordinary cloudburst, it was a deluge. We got wet from our knees down into our boots and at least up to our elbows from clutching the cables, getting our hands right into the frequent mini-waterfalls. And yes, there was heavy thunder and lightning too. It was not very different from walking under a waterfall. (Yes, I have been under a waterfall, in 1950 when sister Gun and I took a shower under a waterfall in Lapland in 195– to cool off on our two-week trek around Sarek.)
Saulajochsteig, which we had already on the way out found somewhat hairier than we remembered, had now been transformed into a narrow stream. A man we met saw a stone falling and warned us that there would be more. There were, a minor rock slide, caused by the unusually heavy storm. John was out of the falling stones, but I had to hide under a rock (says our Tagebuch), a detail I had completely forgotten. Rock slides are not to be taken lightly, but this was not a big one. What I do remember vividly was all the waterfalls that had formed wherever there was a small opening in the mountain wall on our left. We put our hands right into the waterfalls, I with my bandaged hand and all. There was no other way to get through this storm and get safely to Douglashütte. It’s odd how, in a situation like this, you don’t even think of being afraid. All you think of is getting ahead.
After we got to the end of the ‘Steig‘, there was this boring and very tiring walk up on an ordinary path across the steep and grassy slope up to Doulashütte.
We reached Douglashütte, with totally soaked lower arms and legs. The hut was filled with other “drowned rats” (says John in our trip-book) who, like us, were seeking refuge from the storm. They had clearly hurried to shelter from any of the multitude of walks that start at the Lünersee. From here there was now only the Seilbahn left and the drive down the valley to Haus Kella-Egg, which is a few hundred meters lower than the beginning of the funicular.
Rarely have we been so pleased to sit down in a warm place, even if Douglashütte had never been one of our favorite huts. I suppose though that, after this harrowing experience, we celebrated coming to third base with some Jägertee or, more likely, a glass of Obstler. That is what Austrians most often drink as Schnapps — after the meal, not before, which is a habit John and I find bizarre.
When we finally got back to Haus Kella-Egg, we found that the Königers had worried about us. They knew of course where we were and that there was a ferocious storm going. Weather not recommended for mountain climbing. They were relieved to see us, soaking wet but in good cheer.