From this point on, snow – about 6 inches deep – is covering the pathway. I’ve been walking for roughly an hour and a half into the valley. To my disappointment there are footprints in the snow, which means that I’m not the one discovering the path, as I would like to think. Hiking in Austria does wonders to one’s imagination.

The valley starts just behind Kampl, a minuscule mountain village where I have been living for the past three months. The village has less than 500 inhabitants and is placed picturesquely alongside a mountain slope and the main road that leads to the holiday-package, all-season ski resort. As perfect as it looks, it is far from perfect when you actually live there. Like any other little village in any other country, there is nothing to do and the people, along with their opinions, are hopelessly bound to their locality.

I wanted to hike down the valley for weeks, and now, with a blue sky and a day off, the choice was mine to snowboard yet again, dwell aimlessly in Innsbruck, or finally take the hike. This time I did not succumb to the temptation of swirling 360’s and perfect imprints in ideal powder snow, and because it was Sunday, Innsbruck wasn’t an option either – you will know what I mean if you’ve ever experienced a European Sunday.

I’ve seen maybe two or three other hikers, but that was more than an hour ago, at the base of the valley where I didn’t see any snow, just green pine trees and gray fog hanging around the mountain tops close above me. It’s not the season for hiking, although the weather is perfect – a little cold, but when dressed well, it’s perfect. The sun is out and shining bright, except when the occasional enormous cloud that hurries on its way to Innsbruck brings a chilly shadow. There has been an absolute silence for more than an hour. The birds are not whistling yet and it’s to cold to hear my own steps.

The silence is broken when I cross a little bridge that runs over an even smaller mountain stream. The stream is half frozen and my guess is that it’s probably a lot louder in the summer. Now, the water calmly trickles down over the icy cold stones.

Across the bridge, on the river bank, there is a large rock, fairly round and about twice as tall as I am. The rock is perfectly split in two, as if a giant drove an axe through it. I am wondering how many people have seen this little miracle of nature.

After maybe another half an hour of hiking, I reach a desolated, little white cabin. This seems to be the end of my hike, because not far behind the cabin, the mountain sides spring up with a dazzling height. In the summer, the locals probably sell their Apfelstudel in the cabin, and that “herby” soda, of which I can’t remember the name.

The cabin looks pretty old. Big stones covered with white stucco compose the walls, wooden beams, probably oak, make up the roof. The windows, or holes in the wall, are nailed shut with heavy looking, improvised shutters. It looks like the cabin has endured thousands of subzero nights, millions of gusts of icy wind and innumerable blizzards. I sit down on a wooden bench that leans against the white stucco. A needless look at my compass shows that I’ve been walking mostly southward and maybe a little west. I precisely picture the map I studied earlier, and where I am right now.

From my backpack I take my homely prepared bread rolls – thinking to myself that it feels just like the family vacations of years ago. I lean back, take a silent bite and take up everything that surrounds me; the fresh mountain air, the tranquil silence and the soothing view.

Taking the same way back is disappointing, as always. The constant feeling that I’ve been here before and there’s nothing new to discover is nagging my mind. In addition, the wisdom that with every step I am closer to the end of my hiking adventure, doesn’t make the mood any better.

Now, even the realization that it was only an adventure in my imagination, and that every moderately fit person could have walked the same path, is creeping mercilessly through my brain. As I step into the doorway of the Gastarbeiter house, I am thinking that one of these days I will engage in a real hiking adventure,. Still, I feel satisfied. My imagination had a good couple of hours of play time, good enough to keep me happy for some weeks.

> Photos of several sites of the hike - look for them in between other photos

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