We left a pleasantly warm Gatwick airport on the Saturday afternoon, and after an hour and twenty five-minute flight that seemed like only about ten minutes we emerged into a very warm and bright early Salzburg evening. I love Salzburg Airport. It’s my joint favourite along with Nice. What I like about them both is their neatness, compactness and the ease with which you move through them – are you listening UK airports? Salzburg is much smaller than Nice, so much so that you feel you could step off the plane and get to the front exit with only a hop, skip and jump, but that’s far too energetic for us so we settled for the conventional walking method. We have a couple of complaints from this break; the first is that having collected our luggage and sailed through all the airport formalities, we were left hanging about for our coach to leave the airport for an unacceptable length of time. An hour and a half in fact, in the very hot sun while the reps waited for other flights to arrive to fill the coaches before sending them on their respective ways. Thomson’s, Inghams, Crystal and First Choice take heed - this really needs sorting out!!
The town of St Johann is beautiful. It sits in a T shaped valley with three main mountains around it. It’s relatively small, with a large and attractive church dominating the town square, which is ringed with bars (all serving food) and cafes. This is the focus of much of the local social scene and we were lucky enough to catch several concerts there, varying from traditional Tyrolean right through to a ‘Swing & Sing’ event. It was a bit disconcerting though when one of our fellow but considerably younger referred to the latter offering as a ‘classical’ concert!! There are a good variety of very nice shops in the town – jewellers, designer clothing, gifts, sportswear, electronics and even a Spar - and a decent selection of eateries and bars. The real highlight for us is the Huberbrau Brewery in the middle of town. Its top floor has a really comfortable and informal bar-cum- restaurant that serves very delicious, traditional food and of course its own excellent beers. As if that isn’t enough of a draw, the ace up its sleeve is the balcony on three of its sides, set with tables & chairs, which gives great views over the town and the mountains around it.
Getting about is great from St Johann. One mountain, the Kitzbuheler Horn, has first-rate cable car access, which you can either ‘pay as you go’ or as we did, buy a six-day pass. There’s a railway station – Kitzbuhel, St Johann’s more glitzy neighbour, is only two stops away – a good bus service and excellent cycle/walking paths to the neighbouring towns, which are all amply nice enough for visit. St Johann also boasts also a magnificent indoor and outdoor swimming complex, at which we spent a couple of very relaxing afternoons. The mountains are great for walking on and have trails that range from the very gentle to the ‘don’t even think about it’. The town centre tourist info office has everything you need regarding routes, timetables, etc, and they speak English! www.stjohannintirol.com/
Our Hotel is called the Fischer www.hotelfischer.com and is brilliantly located close to the square. Although the service is fantastic and food very good and plentiful –borne out by the reviews on Trip Advisor, all of which gave it 10/10 – I would have to say our room, although comfortable was definitely not plush. It was scrupulously clean but we both thought it a bit tired and in need of a facelift. The furniture wouldn’t look out of place in a post-war pre-fab and the TV was an old 14” portable. That said, the linen was clean and crisp and everything was fully functional, and we had a balcony. It’s a family run establishment (that seems to be the Tyrolean norm) and the same Grander family also run a sister hotel nearby called the Park, both offering the same excellent packages. The brilliant owners and their few but equally brilliant staff all speak good English and can’t do enough to make you comfortable. Our package included breakfast, a packed lunch if required, tea & coffee in the afternoons and a four-course evening meal with beer, wine and soft drinks taken with that meal thrown in too. We also had free bikes and lots of other discounts including free entry to that swimming complex.
Our first and very sunny morning started, once we’d managed to stop ourselves from eating any more breakfast, with a welcome meeting at the Café Rainer with fellow newbies and our splendid Thomson reps Verity & Miles. We liked their approach; brief welcomes and introductions were made in the café then we were taken on a walking mini-tour of the town with Verity pointing out not only places of interest but places we all hoped we wouldn’t need during our stay, like chemists, hospitals, etc. We then fell back into the café and booked loads of trips evenly spread out across our fortnight.
The first of our trips was actually later that morning to the Krimml Waterfall, Europe’s highest and cascading over three distinct terraces. It was hot, it was hard work walking up to the top but it was spectacular and well worth the effort, although I have to cough that we didn’t quite make it to the top. In fairness though, this was down to lack of time rather than stamina.
One of the first stops for us on any holiday is at the local Tourist Information Office. Lynda will start to shake and develop insomnia if by around the third day of our holidays she hasn’t been into an info office and scooped up at least three carrier bags of maps, timetables and leaflets. Not that I’m complaining; our holidays would be nowhere near as good as they are were it not for her dedication to collecting and poring over all this stuff, and her ability to spot a discount voucher is now the stuff of legend. Monday morning after breakfast then we dropped by the St Johann office and got well stocked for the holiday. We dropped everything back at the hotel with the exception of a cycle route map, which we kept out for that day’s planned bike ride. Cycling in that part of the world is great, with every conceivable level catered for. The very new bikes provided by the hotel were excellent hybrid varieties, the only catch being that we hadn’t realised that back-pedalling applied the brakes. Hadn’t realised that is until I almost fell off mine very early into the ride. We’d packed our rucksacks with our hotel lunches, a hip-flask and our swimming gear, and after a very enjoyable ride to a couple of nearby towns we dispatched the food and drink and headed back to St Johann and its “Panoramamabad” Outdoor Pool for a very well earned splash. By the time the evening came we’d worked up such an appetite that we threw ourselves at the excellent ‘Italian Buffet’ dinner and then to complete the Italian theme even managed to catch Italy play the USA in the Confederations Cup.
I mentioned earlier that we had two disappointments on our holiday. The second of those was on the Tuesday. We’d booked a trip on the “Ghisela Bahn” train, the literature for which promised a ride on a train from a bygone era, passing through beautiful countryside and stopping en-route at a scenic spot where we could disembark and take pictures. The train was indeed old – probably from the 1960s though rather than anything Miss Marple might have ridden. The two lady organisers that accompanied us were resplendent in their Victorian costumes but the illusion of local nostalgic charm was shattered when they opened their mouths and revealed their broad Yorkshire accents!! I don’t mind Yorkshire, just seemed odd in this context. Only the guard – magnificent in his period dress, topped off by a very impressive hat – salvaged the illusion of period grandeur and authenticity by being a local. The scenery we dieselled through was indeed beautiful, but sadly the organisers had managed to find the one ugly, industrial stop on the whole journey at which to lay-up for twenty minutes. Apart from each other, Lynda and I couldn’t really think of anything at Hochfilzen worth taking photos of. So much for scenic. The train eventually stopped at Zell am See, a beautiful spot in the sun but pretty drab in the driving rain we were having. It didn’t stop us taking a boat trip around the perfect lake, followed by an equally splendid Strudel and coffee in a lakeside café.
The next couple of days were spent locally. A trip to the cable car station sorted out our passes for the holiday and we were soon doing reasonable impressions of mountain goats climbing the slopes of the Kitzbuhelerhorn. The walking was reasonably demanding, for us at least - not the seasoned Rannulph Fiennes of course – but refreshment in some form – usually liquid – is never that far away, and we roamed the slopes taking in a beer here, a buttermilk there and did I mention beer? The weather by now had warmed up considerably and after one particular walk back to the town we were so very hot and bothered that only by falling into the outdoor pool were we going to lower our temperatures. Whereas the last time we visited the pool we were just about the only ones there, on this occasion the place was packed. Despite that though there was room to comfortably stretch out our towels, and the place was immaculately clean with not a note of unwanted music to be heard. The cool water was very welcome as we dropped in headfirst to relieve some of the thirty-five degree sun.
Although we swam and cycled during our stay the main activity for us was the walking, and despite when we’re at home we don’t walk as much as we’d like to, we still loved it on holiday. At times it was a real challenge for us. During some of our walks we found ourselves on barely visible paths, which were no more than damp leaf strewn and root littered strips of dirt, occasionally turned into substantial streams by the rain, often made more menacing by the extremely steep drops they ran along, and always very, very steep. Going up is hard work but coming down can be equally punishing on unaccustomed limbs. But whenever we crested a particularly testing stretch and stopped to gaze at the incredible views over the valleys whilst swigging from the hip- flask, or were taken aback at the sight of an amazing chapel built into the side of the rock, or caught a glimpse of deer or huge circling birds of prey, we felt really privileged. Privileged to be physically able to make the climbs at all, to be able to see things that were only accessible to those that walked the mountains, and best of all to be able to take a piss in the open air because there’s not another soul in sight. We were also very humbled by the sheer scale of it all, and without wanting to come across all mountain-man and hippy-tastic, it bought home to us just what an amazing thing nature is.
Even if walking or cycling up mountains is not your thing, there are still excellent reasons to be up those around St Johann. The guest house/inns – particularly Bassgeigeralm http://www.bassgeigeralm-schipflinger.at/ and Poyntenhof http://www.tiscover.at/at/guide/60561at,de,SCH1/objectId,ACC284297at/home.html are brilliant places to sample real Tyrolean food and drink, and we missed no opportunity to do exactly that. Splendidly big beers, sausages, hot chocolates and much more are all on the menu, and in the main all served up by warm and welcoming hosts. Another bit of great fun is Hochfeld Sommer Rodelbahn http://www.kitzalps.cc/de/sommerrodelbahn.html. This is a toboggan run but without the ice. In a nutshell it’s a couple of steep downhill kilometres of adrenaline rush whilst sat precariously on a plastic tea tray. Last time we came to St Johann Lynda had ‘bottled’ this particular treat and so was determined to give it a go this trip. It was brilliant! The wheeled ‘sledges’ have a very crude but effective control stick – push forward to accelerate, pull back to brake – and the course is signed as to where you should be slowing down’ ie the very sharp bends. Previous experience of anything speed related told me Lynda would be doing some serious pulling back on that stick, but even I was surprised that when I hurtled to the end of the track I had time to get off the sledge, get our camera out of my rucksack and still take two photos of her as she came screaming like a girl into the viewfinder. If you go, you must do it.
Then came the rain.
Summer evenings in St Johann are often filled with concerts in the town square and despite the rain locals and tourists alike still filled the bars and temporary seating to enjoy and applaud whatever was on offer. We saw concerts ranging from a big swing band to a local brass band, some of which it must be said featured many of the same personnel. What was great to see was that local youngsters were very much involved in it all and very much enjoying themselves too. Young drummers beat out solo performances to modern soundtracks, clarinettists and flautists recited classical pieces and teenage brass players blasted out ‘Oompah’ with great enthusiasm and without a hint of feeling un-cool.
As I mentioned already, the management and staff of our hotel put a lot of thought and effort into giving their guests as good a time as possible, arranging several events and activities to give us a feel and flavour of the Tyrol. On the ‘feel’ side, they have a well-organised programme of free guided walks throughout the week, at varying degrees of difficulty and duration. Regarding ‘flavour’ apart from the splendid weekly Italian Buffet, they organise equally splendid weekly BBQ evenings and Mountain Breakfasts. Being a guest for two weeks meant that we benefited from having two cracks at each of these culinary treats. The first BBQ was taken in the garden of their sister Hotel Park in glorious sunshine, where we quaffed the excellent chilled Huber beer and grazed on endless sausages, steak, turkey steaks, pork steaks and much more. This was marvellous enough but the whole thing was set to the music of Sepp, ‘our musician men’ and his accordion. It was perfect and after dinner we topped off the evening with a beer in the Huberbrau bar, looking over the town as the sunset and the lights slowly started coming on in the homes, bars and hotels. The second BBQ was equally enjoyable but that time the rain forced us to eat indoors.
The Mountain Breakfast was brilliant and a real highlight for us. At 7.45 one morning our hostess led us from our hotel up to the ‘Park’ a few minutes away, collected up more hungry guests and then in a crocodile we set off up one of the mountain roads where ten minutes later we came across a disused cable car station. There, waiting for us outside were the smiling Michael (the owner / manager of our hotel) and his equally cheerful brother who fulfils the same role at the Park. They prepared and served us with a wonderful breakfast of eggs, bacon, cheeses, cold meats, bread, coffee and juices, which sat on rows of long benches and tables decked with bright tablecloths and alpine flowers, we eagerly tucked away. Michael and his brother then brought the schnapps round, which again was very happily accepted by the guests. The timing was perfect because just as we finished the sky blackened and a crack of thunder broke overhead. We all stood up and helped pack everything away just as the heavens opened.
We were fortunate to be in the Tyrol to coincide with the very traditional ‘Berg in Flammen’ (Mountain in Flames) Festival. It’s a night-time celebration of mid-summer when people gather on the mountains and light torches, beacons and bonfires – some very elaborate indeed. As with any decent Tyrolean festival food and drink is a major part, but we resisted a mountain meal and after our excellent hotel dinner grabbed a cable car up to the Kitbuheler Horn’s Top Cable Car Station and joined in the festivities there. The Top Station has an excellent restaurant / bar called the Harschbichl Alm, somewhere we’ve really enjoyed stopping off in on many occasions. This particular evening it was heaving with people eating, drinking and singing, but unusually we were not made to feel very welcome at all by the customers, so much so that we ordered a coffee and sat outside. It was not until afterwards though that we found out that the evening’s crowd was not local, but in fact three coach loads of German tourists bussed in for the evening’s celebrations. Now I don’t want to slur German people or German hospitality in any way, I’m just telling it as it is, that night we were definitely frozen out. It didn’t matter, the evening was great and the air ambulance helicopter that landed within feet of us provided further excitement. We thought it was part of the ‘show’ when in fact someone had got into some sort of trouble and these amazing guys had been scrambled to help.
We’d had one very good and one not so good trip so far, but the rest were excellent. The first was a ‘Hidden Lakes’ tour. Miles, our guide for the day, took a small group in a mini bus around some of the beautiful nearby lakes. The views were spectacular and Miles’ rich local knowledge was a big factor in our enjoyment of the day, especially the bit of his knowledge that knows that Kufstein has the best ice creams in the area. We were forced to try one for research purposes.
The next was a trip to Munich, which Thomson’s had once again organised for a group of eight guests in a mini bus. Lynda and I opted for a first stop at Dachau Concentration Camp, just north of the city. The dark skies and pouring rain seemed appropriate to the bleakness of the location and the unimaginable cruelty that was inflicted there. Walking through the wrought iron gates with their ironic ‘Arbeit Macht Frei’ sign, we were struck by a real sadness. Firstly that this could have happened at all and secondly and almost sadder, that this level of inhumanity – maybe not in ordered and regimented camps like Dachau and Auschwitz, nor thankfully in the same numbers - still goes on. Two hours were not long enough to do justice to such an important part of history but we were on a time fuse and were soon heading back to the city and the Marienplatz, Munich’s main square. Despite the increasingly heavy rain, as soon as we stepped out of the mini-bus we were smitten with Munich and knew that a long weekend there in the future is a certainty. The weather curtailed any real sightseeing and instead we ducked into the Hofbrauhaus, a magnificent and cavernous beer hall that is breathtaking for its enormity, the enormity of the beers and pretzels and Oompah Band that filled the whole place with traditional music. We only had a couple of hours there, which was just as well because any more beer and we’d have spent the night on their floor!
Our last trip was to Grossglockner (literally Big Bell), Austria’s highest mountain. The journey itself is an experience, and one we’d made seven years previously on our fist long holiday in Austria. The elusive peak revealed itself to us on that occasion but the weather today made a glimpse of the summit look very unlikely. The drive takes you on the Pass Thurn through spectacular scenery and none more so than on the Grossglockner toll road itself. It’s an amazingly steep and winding affair, and we spotted several test cars with their details masked out whose manufacturers regularly use the uphill sections of the road to check out their engines and the downhill bits to see how well the brakes work. We didn’t see any wrecks at the bottom of the valleys we drove over so I guess the brakes all work just fine. The weather brightened considerably as we approached the coach park, so much so that by the time we’d climbed to the main visitor area Grossglockner’s snow-laced peak was poking proudly through a wisp of cloud. The entire setting is an awesome but almost unreal sight, so much so that a fellow tourist said it was like looking at a screen-saver. On our way back down we stopped to take pictures of the snow that lay everywhere. Lynda had to have a lay in it herself and then threatened me with a snowball. Luckily I was able to make a hasty and cowardly retreat to the safety of the coach.
That evening back at the square we had one last concert to enjoy, and once again it rained. We didn’t care though as we sat in a bar drinking in the music, setting, atmosphere, hospitality of the locals and of course our beers. This was the last full day of our holiday. The next day we were going home, but luckily not until late afternoon.
We were to be picked up at three-thirty so having got up reasonably early, packed, filled our faces with breakfast and said our goodbyes to Michael, and Jasmine and Maria – two brilliant young girls who ran the restaurant superbly at both breakfast and dinner time – we opted for a last brief walk in the surrounding countryside. After a couple of wistful hours dreaming as we walked about winning the lottery and buying a chalet in St Johann, we found ourselves back in the town and drawn to the Huberbrau for a spot of lunch. Actually, a spot doesn’t really do it justice. It was about four kilos of pork with the crispiest of crackling, served up with dumplings and sauerkraut. Actually mine was four kilos; Lynda had the lighter appetite version coming in at around only two kilos!!
Sadly, that was our holiday over. The coach picked us up promptly from the hotel and soon Verity was making the usual going home announcements and handing out holiday satisfaction questionnaires as we made our way back through Salzburgerland, crossing Bavaria and on to Salzburg Airport. Once checked-in and airside we had a short mooch around the duty-free shop but to be honest our hearts weren’t in it as we were pretty fed up at having to leave. We took off bang on time and once again the flight was very quick and comfortable and even the meal was far more palatable than the mush we got on the way out. When we landed, Gatwick was dark and overcast but extremely hot and humid. A storm felt definitely on the way. Fortunately we picked up the car and hit the M25 just as the damn broke and heavens rained down fire and flood. It was one of the fiercest storms I’ve seen in the UK, with forked lightning regularly crashing to the ground all around us. The rain was like grey steel rods, making driving conditions slow and hazardous. To compound it the motorways were littered with un-manned road works that served no purpose other than to reduce the speed that the ever-lengthening snake of cars could crawl along at. ‘Welcome to the UK’ I thought, ‘welcome home’.
It was a brilliant holiday. We had an enormous amount of fun and managed to do so many different things, meet a large number of lovely people and consume an even larger amount of wonderful food and drink. We’d pushed ourselves physically more than we had done before and were really pleased that we’d come through it all really well. Not bad for a couple of our years. All the beautiful scenery, towns and food though would have been nothing without Lynda. Thank you so much for making it so, so very good. Thank you too to the Hotel Fischer and its terrific staff, to Thomson’s and their reps on the ground and a special thank you to Andreas Hofer, not only for liberating the Tyrol from its Napoleonic occupiers, but for inspiring a pretty tasty bottle of commemorative beer.
