Not so Tough

*Note to reader: It's taken me far too long to write this, I'm tired, and I want to go to bed. If I don't just post now, it will never happen, so forgive the grammar spelling and whatever blogging snafu I might make...

**And for another version of the day that might be a bit more polished and coherent, check out Abby's blog. And while you're at it, read her last post for today's fun!

Running along the southern border of Germany are the Bavarian Alps, and in their midst soars the highest mountain in Germany, the mighty Zugspitze, rising roughly 7,500 feet above the nearby town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen. Granted, the summit comes up just short of 10,000 feet, but it's a big mountain nonetheless. Way back when, we had grand aspirations to do a multi-day hike through the Alps, which would route us up and over the Zugspitze, but a perfect storm of logistical issues, route issues and finally weather forced us to scrap our plans, leaving us in the perfectly perfect town of Garmisch (we actually found a terrific hotel in Partenkirchen), pondering numerous options for a day hike or two with the thought of a summit attack on Zugspitze atop the list...

Problems still threatened however as we waited out the rain on Monday, hoping for better weather and a chance at the mountain on Tuesday:
-According to our guide book and every account we found online, the long route up was too long for a day hike. We'd be leaving from our hotel, which tacked on a mile or so to the estimate, and we'd be gaining serious elevation. If we didn't summit by 430, we wouldn't be able to catch the cable-car down (we didn't want to rely on being able to hike down due to weather forecasts...). When we checked in, the owner of our fine establishment had said hiking the long route would take 14 hours or so...longer than we had judged, but cause for concern combined with all other accounts...
-Well, why not the short route? According to the extremely detailed maps and, again, as numerous reports said, the short route was a technical route that necessitated ropes. "The Chief", as the owner is known, said that was bogus, so we thought long and hard about that short route...
-But it all came back to the weather. Forecast for Tuesday: rain in the AM with the real possibility of it lasting all day...going the short route, even if we didn't "need" ropes, would be a bit too risky if the weather was bad. The long route would at least we'd have shelters and the ability to easily abort without risk of slipping off cliffs...

Such were our dilemmas as we set off on a short hike through the Partnachklamm gorge outside town on Monday afternoon. Rain had been pouring down all morning, and the gorge was frothing with high waters as we traversed the narrow ledge path that passes through the gorge. It was an absolutely marvelous walk and deserves more time, but it's taken me way too long to write a few paragraphs, so I'm trying not to waste them...Point is, when we reached the other side, we saw an information board that gave us hope the long route was a possibility after all. According to the information on the sign, we could reach the summit in roughly 10 hours from where we stood. At that point, we were probably a 1 1/2-2 hour walk from the hotel's front door, so we looked at each other then and there and our plan was in place.

We'd run to the top of the Zugspitze...

Not literally, of course, but judging by the maps, we figured we could knock out the majority of the first 2/3 of the hike by running. We'd rise early, set off at a steady run and run as much and as far as we could before the serious climbing began. We prepared ourselves for the reality that we'd likely be in the rain for most of the morning and that once we reached the difficult parts, the weather might not allow for us to go further...

And so it was that we came down the stairs at 3:25 in the morning, packs in tow with pretzels, chocolate, cheese and fruit, headlamps ready and the sleep still working itself from our eyes. I'm not sure who was more surprised: The Chief as he looked up from his paperwork, or us seeing The Chief awake and busy in the dead of night...He wished us luck, a mixture of curiosity and dread apparent in his face, and we set off into the night.

And all I can say is we flew through the night; we stood in front of the very same sign that spurred us on into this ambitious adventure roughly 40 minutes in. We had set out planning to bypass the damp and narrow gorge, but had ultimately gone through, our headlamps illuminating the fine mist swirling in the roar of the canyon. The next leg was a gentle climb to a hut that would see us eat up 1,000 feet of elevation, and the sign suggested 2.5 hours. 75 minutes or so later we ran onto the hut's bridge, and the sky was finally beginning to lighten, revealing the rushing creek we had been running alongside and awing us with the sheer rock cliffs rising all around us. From that point on, I have never seen such majestic and raw beauty for such a long hike.

We continued on, reaching a second hut and again banking a considerable chunk of time based on the estimates. People were stirring here, and one man who realized something was amiss, that we should have been coming from the bunks but were instead coming from the trail and that we were dripping with sweat in the cold mountain air, did a double take and exclaimed his surprise in German we only wished we could understand. By now our lights were off and stowed, and we could see Tibetan prayer flags fluttering above the creek as we set off once more. A final stretch brought us past a breathtaking waterfall pouring from shadowed trees standing above a lofty cliff, and we crossed our final glacier-flattened plain before reaching the base of the real climbing. By this point we had probably covered roughly 10 miles, we had ascended a fair bit, but we had been able to run much of it. It was sometime around 7 in the morning, and so we set off, trudging up scree, switchbacks and rocky trails, laboring past graying goats and sheep and constantly looking over the next ridge line, hoping to see the outline of the next hut.

When we reached it, we had ascended over 2,000 feet since we had finally stopped running. We dropped our packs, ate, shivered in the cold and thinning air, and spoke briefly with an Israeli who declared us crazy on several occasions when he learned we had come all the way from town. He told us that the next stretch would take about an hour and a half and then the "insane" final assault on the summit would wait for us.

Off again we ran, and this final stretch led us into the deep bowl of a skier's dream. Towering peaks and ridges walled us in, right and left, and ahead, we could see them closing in together in the distance. Behind us, the mountains fell away in the pass we had come by, but beyond that the mountains rose again. Patches of ice were scattered throughout these highlands, the remnants of a glacier that once filled the valley and gorge we had been climbing through. As we neared the base of the mountain, the beauty was ever-so-slightly tainted by several ski lifts that help the masses reach the summit of Zugspitze and assist others in the winter who come to ski. When we reached the lifts, we looked up, searching for a glimpse of the mountaintop through the clouds swirling around the summit. Unfortunately, we could not see through the clouds, but we thanked our luck that we hadn't encountered a drop of rain!

Now the real fun began as there was little initial sign of a trail leading us up. A faint trail of switchbacks appeared to ascend the VERY steep scree slope racing up above us, but above that, the rocks looked menacing. We pondered, we looked at the maps, we wandered in a big circle in the basin of the mountains around us. We stopped and ate some more chocolate and then looked up at the scree slope and cliffs once more. And finally, we threw up our hands, tightened our packs and set off up the scree.

Once into it, we saw splashes of pink paint. Step by step, we huffed our way through the steep and loose rocks, the altitude finally taking a toll as heart rates rose, breathing became more labored, and heads began to pound a bit more noticeably. Onward we went, and both of us felt significantly better when we finally reached the rocks above and found via ferrata guides waiting for us: metal cable, rods and rungs were grafted to the rock, and using them we began to climb up the cliffs, finally cresting the high ridge and catching a glimpse down the other side. Now, instead of being surrounded by high mountains, we found ourselves on narrow and exposed ridge with sheer drops of 1-2,000 feet (or more) on all sides. Thankfully we had some clear views for a few moments, and then the clouds finally enveloped us for good as we continued our traverse up the mountain's rocky sides. An hour or so from when we began the final ascent, we saw the shadow of the lodge above, and a few minutes later, we stood on the secure decks of the hut.

A final bit of climb on well polished rock from the hordes who have climbed to the actual summit off one side of the hut, and we were there. And it wasn't yet 11 in the morning. Ultimately, we ran, hiked, scrambled and climbed for just under 7 1/2 hours. We figure we covered roughly 15 miles and ascended 7,500 feet. It was without doubt the best day hike I have ever done, and is up there for the best mountain experience I've had.

And the best part was the Japanese woman we met after the hike who asked whether we had been to the top of the mountain and jerked in shock with mouth agape.

"Ah, so!" she exclaimed. "But you look normal! You don't look so tough"

We laughed as we climbed onto the train back to town with her, legs a bit tired but already wondering what the next adventure would be.