Zwolfenburg Redux

This morning is our last full day in Austria and the weather we left in England ie. cold and damp, has finally caught up with us. Behind us the summit of the Schafberg is shrouded in mist and there has been snowfall down to about 1,200m. After breakfast we opt for a lower level walk and select one on the opposite side of the lake, that starts from St Gilgen and then follows the top of the first rock face back towards the small hamlet of Abersee, almost directly opposite Reid, at the narrowest point of the lake. It has stopped raining by the time we set off at ten, but we are all dressed and equipped for the worst. We drive round the Wolfgangsee and park in the Zwolferhorn cable car park again, before making our way through the last of the houses to the rock face. Here we intend to walk up to the cafe on the cliff top, about a thousand feet above us. Two routes are signposted, a black route and a red route. As we have Irene with us, I suggest the red route may be more prudent, but David and Michael insist that the black route isn't too bad, as they climbed it on Monday, when I felt ill. In fact the route isn't too bad, it is steep and rocky and the only dangerous part is where we walk along a ledge with a sharp drop of two hundred feet down a gorge with a stream cascading down it, it's force fed by the overnight rain. Another steel hawser is clamped against the rock and I stay with Irene until she is safely across the dangerous section. Whatever else the dementia has affected, it certainly isn't her courage or stamina. We arrive at the wooden Inn after an hour, but it is closed and boarded up, so we stop to take on water and then follow the path that leads to the top of the cliff face. Here there are signposts for a 10km high level running circuit from St Gilgen, so I suggest that in view of the weather, this might be enough for the day. Everyone agrees and we follow the signposts, which lead us under the path of the cable car, its gondolas swinging perilously close to head level, so we wait for a gap before we cross into the trees. The forest smells wonderful after the rain, a mixture of peaty earth and pine resin and our path leads us along a ridge that is almost directly opposite the Falkenstein, which we climbed on Sunday and at about the same height. After a couple of derisory showers the weather dries up somewhat and we continue the pleasant walk along the ridge, enjoying the splendid views across the lake. The Pautschelstein descent on the Schafberg, that Michael and I came down, is covered in snow and would be impassable today. Eventually our path reaches the Alm, or Alpine meadow and we have to cross a farm track that has been churned into a quagmire by the recent rain and then leads on to a forester's road that takes us quickly downhill to the lakeside. Here the walk becomes disappointing for about a kilometre, as we are obliged to walk alongside the main road until we reach Der Franzosenschanze, which we have seen signposted along our route. This it turns out, is where Napoleon built a barricade to block advancing Austrian troops, a little over two hundred years ago. A small plaque denotes the event. The path separates from the road, which takes a higher route and we are now walking past elegant villas and the occasional hotel, the lake, smooth and placid to our right, its further shores near the Hochzeits Kreuz, shrouded in mist. We arrive in St Gilgen at two thirty and are greeted by a slight drizzle, our options for lunch seem to be a Turkish Imbiss or an Austrian restaurant next door, we opt for the latter and are greeted by a lady of a certain age, dressed in the ubiquitous dirndl. She tells us her restaurant closes at three, but if we order quickly, she will serve us, so we take our seats, order drinks and check the menu. Irene orders chicken, Michael the fresh lake caught perch and David and I opt for the schnitzel, always a safe choice in Austria. The meals arrive very quickly, the chef obviously keen to get away, all are accompanied by salad and mine with French fries. The food is excellent and after our walk we have good appetites and tuck in. The only other guests appear to be some other English people, but it turns out they are from Ireland, but with very definite gentrified English accents. After we have paid, Irene uses the toilet and I chat to the Lady owner, who like the woman from the Schwarzsee cafe yesterday, bemoans the effect on trade the poor weather has caused. From our point of view, the weather hasn't been too bad, never stopping us from getting out and walking and better than one could expect in the Cumbrian Lake District at this time of year. After our meal, Michael persuades David to drive to Scharfling on the Mondsee and then to Bad Ischl via Weissenbach on the Attersee before returning via Strobl to the Wolfgangsee and Reid. It is a detour of almost forty miles but completely circumnavigates the massif that includes the Schafberg. Even in poor weather the scenery is magnificent. Bad Ischl boasts a thermal baths offering a variety of treatments and with a special offer for pensioners on a Monday, a whole day pass for only thirty euros, probably calculating that up selling massages and treatments to geriatrics is a pretty sure thing. We arrive back at our appartment at five thirty and decide to rest until it is time for the operetta concert. In the event we all fall asleep for an hour, and as the rain has started again, opt for a quiet meal at home and give Lehar and Strauss a miss. I make an ante pasta of all our remaining cheeses and salami, accompanied by a tossed salad and David brings a bottle of wine, we intend to make an early start tomorrow, as there may be heavy traffic as the Whitsuntide school holidays are finishing, so we all turn in for half past ten.