The Sunday hike

Andi and I have been following in his family's footsteps and have been attempting weekly Sunday hikes for the past 5 years. First we hiked in Austria, then in Maryland and now again in Austria. This year has been especially bad for us with regard to our sense of direction.

In the past year we have added 1-2 hours onto our already 5 hour long hikes by either ignoring posted signage or missing a painted tree or rock that took us in the correct direction, and instead just assumed that a mountain road, footprints or that which could begrudgingly be called a path through the woods was the correct route. These assumtions are wrong. And this week we tested fate again, and lost.

In -11c weather, Andi and I woke at 7am and drove an hour to Rohr im Gebirge to hike the trail up to Jochart. It was supposed to have been a four hour hike, but we tacked on an extra hour when we completely lost the trail and followed the good ole mountain road, instead of the painstakingly posted markings, and hiked halfway up the wrong side of the mountain, realized our mistake, hiked back down the mountain until we found the correct path again, then hiked right back up again. After we got home, Andi checked his GPS and determined that the correct path was in fact, a mere 3 meters from the road we had been on when we realized our mistake.

Thankfully we brought along the snowshoes. Just in case. It was almost impossible to walk on the uppermost portion of the trail without them. Next time we will need to remember to bring a sled to slide down on. I think my pants won't make it through another butt sledding session.

Usually these long and grueling hikes are congratulated with a tall glass of perfect beer at the mountain hut that is inevitable at the top of any hiking path you find in Austria. But on the rare occasion, your efforts will only be met with a cold and lonely wooden cross at the top of the hill. When you are half frozen and exhausted, you often wish this was the hike with the pub, not the cross.