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Winter in the Alps with No Schuss


I first visited Zell am See during a summer bicycle ride through the Alps and immediately fell in love with this oversized village nestled between a pristine lake and mile-high mountains. My itinerary dragged me away after barely a day, but I vowed to return to this corner of Austria about an hour's train ride south of Salzburg. When I did, I found that the lush greens of August had turned to bright whites of winter. It was Austria as I'd seen only in photographs, and, despite several earlier visits to the country, it was like visiting it for the first time.

 

The village of Zell Am See in the breathtaking Austrian Alps. Courtesy of The Alps.com.The trouble was, I'm a certified ski-phobe. What was I doing in the birthplace of downhill skiing with all that hard-pack around? I needn't have worried. I had the time of my life. Over the course of a week, I hurtled down toboggan runs by moonlight, watched traditional folk groups perform in the courtyard of a medieval castle, sat under blankets and sipped schnapps during a horse-drawn sleigh ride, and trudged along a foot-path carved atop a 1,800-meter-high mountain. I even spent a day cross-country skiing. Those downhill skiers don't know what they are missing.

Later I learned that it wasn't just by chance that one of Europe's premier ski regions is a winter wonderland for non-skiers. In 1968, the adjacent towns of Zell am See and Kaprun allied as the "Europa Sport Region." Their goal was to offer a coordinated ski lift system and to develop other activities that would attract year-round tourists, even those like me who prefer a toboggan to a pair of skis.

I decided to stay in Kaprun, the smaller and quieter of the two towns, in the Pension Berg-Heil, which offered both peace and comfort. Each morning, I walked downstairs to the breakfast room and enjoyed a buffet of cereals, rolls, cheeses, meats, and preserves. Overhead, a television showed the current views and weather conditions at the Kitzsteinhorn, one of the major ski mountains. From the summit, the camera panned past other peaks down the valley to the lake and Zell.

Buses run frequently and inexpensively to Zell, and I climbed aboard with a few dozen skiers for the ride to Zell to join my friend Claudia, whom I’d met in September. We spent much of the day walking and climbing to a small mountainside restaurant, the Mitterberghof. Along the way, we looked at the frozen lake, a 10-mile ring cleared around it for skaters and ice-surfers. Another patch was set up for curling, a sort of bowling on ice.

The bright sky allowed for terrace dining, and we enjoyed our wienerschnitzel and apfelstrudel while watching little specks walk and skate across the lake. In the distance, the Kitzsteinhorn rose behind Kaprun, two hang-gliders dancing in the updrafts.

Every Sunday night, Kaprun hosts an evening of folk music and dancing at Kaprun Castle, a 12th-century fortress. That evening, as we approached the castle, music drifted toward us in the wind. We crossed the moat, entered the castle and joined nearly 100 revelers, who were warmed as much by the hot wine and roasted chestnuts as by the crackling bonfire. In previous centuries, witchcraft played a central role in village life, and many fall evenings will find costumed characters in playful battle between good and evil spirits. According to tradition the good "Perchten" must win, chasing away the dark forces of winter and assuring a bountiful harvest. The alpine vista beckons to all winter sport enthusiasts. Copyright Jim Johnson. The next morning, I slapped two narrow strips of wood to my feet and started cross- country skiing lessons. My instructor, Walther, showed infinite patience as I stopped or fell almost every 15 meters. Soon, however, I caught the rhythm and glided in the groomed tracks. "Here's where we're going," Walther said, pointing on a map. The region has more than 70 miles of groomed trails, which in turn connect with a 100-mile trail system. He drew a small circle with his finger. "Only fifteen miles. Easy!"

As we skied, we passed weatherworn hay-sheds and rambling farmhouses. A horse-drawn sleigh crossed the field in front of us, bells jingling. Occasionally, we passed boulder-sized snowballs that stopped beside the path.

"Avalanches," Walther joked. "Just little ones."

We stopped for a snack at the Einoedhof, a 500-year-old-farmhouse, and then headed across the field for the village of Piesendorf, its church steeple a beacon of hope. There, two hours later, we ate lunch and rested.

"You look tired. We'll take a short-cut back," Walther said.

The short-cut carried us across virgin snow-cover, our skis breaking through a thin crust of ice. We climbed fences, lifting one ski over at a time. My muscles ached. Luckily, that evening I relaxed at the Optimum, one of two nearby spas. I stretched in the sauna and steam room and swam a few laps. I slept well. The next day, taking it easy, I walked around Zell's cobblestone pedestrian zone. I climbed an ancient watchtower, now a museum that showed the town's growth since its origins as a Roman settlement in 743. After leaving the museum, I passed ice sculptures from a recent contest still standing in the cold shadow of the town church. As a slight snow started to fall, I retreated to a café, where I drank tea, read and rested my sore muscles. That evening, however, more excitement awaited as Claudia, two of her friends and I headed for a local toboggan run on the Guggenbichl, a steep hill. An inn of the same name at the base of the hill offered free sleds, handmade and wooden, in the hopes that guests would stop inside for dinner or beer after the ride. We walked a mile or so up the lighted trail, watching as other sledders slid by. The only sound was the crunch of our footsteps. As we reached the top, the mountains glowed in the moonlight and we climbed on to the sled.

A bird soars overtop the snow-laden peaks near Zell Am See. Copyright Jim Johnson."I'll steer and you brake," Claudia said, as we pushed off down the mountain.

I had expected high protective walls, sort of like the Olympic bobsled turns. These were more like slight ridges, little protection against the sheer drops into darkness. Within seconds, we gained speed and approached a curve.

"Bremsen! Brake!" Claudia shouted. As I dug my heels into the snow, we went over the edge, flipping into the snowdrift.

"Next time, really brake," she ordered, wiping snow and a smile from her face. We made the next several curves without incident. Barely 100 feet from the inn, however, we flipped again, and I found myself nearly vertical sliding down a ledge. Claudia dangled down toward me and helped pull me back on to the trail. We were both caked in snow and gladly warmed ourselves with gluehwein, a hearty mixture of wine, sugar, cinnamon, orange and lemon.

At breakfast the next morning, the television screen showed azure, cloudless skies from the summit, my cue to head to Zell and the Schmittenhoehe, one of Austria's premier skiing mountains. It was mid-morning, and most of the skiers had already made their way up to the summit, where they could ski down to an extensive lift system. The cable car was still packed for the six-minute trip. When I left the cable car at the summit hotel, I felt as if I had entered another world. Snowy mountains with craggy faces stretched for kilometers. Jet-black hawks soared on the wind, which whistled in gusts. I looked down and saw Zell jutting into the lake. To the south, the Kitzsteinhorn rose over Kaprun.

While most riders put on their skis, I walked beside their trail. With each step, it seemed a new view came into sight. Every few moments, I stopped, breathless. The path was easy to follow, and two feet of new snow gave traction on the hills. Skiers whooshed by shouting in delight. Every few moments, a loud thud echoed from miles away – an avalanche of settling snow.

When I returned to the summit, it was noon, and skis were stuck in the snow as the crowds gathered to eat lunch. A disc jockey played the latest Euro-hits and teased the skiers about their stylish garb. With a last look around, I entered the empty cable car for the trip back.

Downhill skiing isn't the only fun, or hair-raising, winter option! Courtesy of Aspen Skiing Company.The next morning, Claudia said she was taking me on an "an adventure" and to wear warm clothes. An hour later, we joined 25 German tourists trudging through the snow into a gaping chasm, the Siegmund-Thum- Klamm. One by one, a guide secured us with a safety harness to a pulley-like contraption attached to a steel wire. I shouted, jumped and flew 150 feet across the gorge. Over the next hour, I walked a 50-foot rope bridge that swayed 100 feet over the gorge floor, leaped from a cliff into rope webbing and was lowered by a cable to the bottom of the gorge. There, amid swirling snow, I stood in awe of the frozen waterfalls lining the gorge, the ice glowing a rich blue. (Similar "adventures" are available for ice climbing, glacier treks and overnight mountain hikes camping in igloos.)

That evening, my last in Zell, Claudia and I joined six South Americans for a sleigh ride around the town. The skies had turned nasty, and a cold snow was flying as our two-horse team pulled away. We covered ourselves with blankets and passed around bottles of schnapps as snow piled in our laps. We left the town for open fields and the decades fell behind us. Here we rode as farmers and townspeople traveled for centuries, the biting wind a stark counterpoint to the striking beauty around us.

It was a sad departure the next morning, but I made a list of activities I will try next time: skating around the lake, horseback riding on snowy trails, soaring around mountaintops in a glider, maybe even downhill skiing. Maybe. When You Go:

Getting there: Major international airlines fly to Munich or to Salzburg via Frankfurt, Vienna and Zurich. Trains run frequently from Salzburg to Zell am See for about $18 one-way.

Language: English is spoken in most hotels, restaurants and stores.

Lodging: Hotels cost from $50 to $150 a night, and rooms with private bath in pensions from $20 to $40.

A Typical Austrian Alpine village. Photo courtesy of MaupinTour.

Contact Information:

Europa-Sportregion Kaprun-Zell am See
www.anto.com/europa.html
P.O. Box 26, A-5710 Kaprun, Austria
Tel.: 011-43-6547-86430

Austrian National Tourist Office
www.anto.com
500 Fifth Ave., Suite 2009, New York, NY 10110
Tel: (212) 944-6880

Salzburg Province Board of Tourism
www.salzburg.com/SalzburgerLand/
A-5300 Hallwang/Salzburg
Tel: 011-43-662-6688

The alpine vista beckons to all winter sport enthusiasts. Copyright Jim Johnson. The next morning, I slapped two narrow strips of wood to my feet and started cross- country skiing lessons. My instructor, Walther, showed infinite patience as I stopped or fell almost every 15 meters. Soon, however, I caught the rhythm and glided in the groomed tracks. "Here's where we're going," Walther said, pointing on a map. The region has more than 70 miles of groomed trails, which in turn connect with a 100-mile trail system. He drew a small circle with his finger. "Only fifteen miles. Easy!"

As we skied, we passed weatherworn hay-sheds and rambling farmhouses. A horse-drawn sleigh crossed the field in front of us, bells jingling. Occasionally, we passed boulder-sized snowballs that stopped beside the path.

"Avalanches," Walther joked. "Just little ones."

We stopped for a snack at the Einoedhof, a 500-year-old-farmhouse, and then headed across the field for the village of Piesendorf, its church steeple a beacon of hope. There, two hours later, we ate lunch and rested.

"You look tired. We'll take a short-cut back," Walther said.

The short-cut carried us across virgin snow-cover, our skis breaking through a thin crust of ice. We climbed fences, lifting one ski over at a time. My muscles ached. Luckily, that evening I relaxed at the Optimum, one of two nearby spas. I stretched in the sauna and steam room and swam a few laps. I slept well. The next day, taking it easy, I walked around Zell's cobblestone pedestrian zone. I climbed an ancient watchtower, now a museum that showed the town's growth since its origins as a Roman settlement in 743. After leaving the museum, I passed ice sculptures from a recent contest still standing in the cold shadow of the town church. As a slight snow started to fall, I retreated to a café, where I drank tea, read and rested my sore muscles. That evening, however, more excitement awaited as Claudia, two of her friends and I headed for a local toboggan run on the Guggenbichl, a steep hill. An inn of the same name at the base of the hill offered free sleds, handmade and wooden, in the hopes that guests would stop inside for dinner or beer after the ride. We walked a mile or so up the lighted trail, watching as other sledders slid by. The only sound was the crunch of our footsteps. As we reached the top, the mountains glowed in the moonlight and we climbed on to the sled.

A bird soars overtop the snow-laden peaks near Zell Am See. Copyright Jim Johnson."I'll steer and you brake," Claudia said, as we pushed off down the mountain.

I had expected high protective walls, sort of like the Olympic bobsled turns. These were more like slight ridges, little protection against the sheer drops into darkness. Within seconds, we gained speed and approached a curve.

"Bremsen! Brake!" Claudia shouted. As I dug my heels into the snow, we went over the edge, flipping into the snowdrift.

"Next time, really brake," she ordered, wiping snow and a smile from her face. We made the next several curves without incident. Barely 100 feet from the inn, however, we flipped again, and I found myself nearly vertical sliding down a ledge. Claudia dangled down toward me and helped pull me back on to the trail. We were both caked in snow and gladly warmed ourselves with gluehwein, a hearty mixture of wine, sugar, cinnamon, orange and lemon.

At breakfast the next morning, the television screen showed azure, cloudless skies from the summit, my cue to head to Zell and the Schmittenhoehe, one of Austria's premier skiing mountains. It was mid-morning, and most of the skiers had already made their way up to the summit, where they could ski down to an extensive lift system. The cable car was still packed for the six-minute trip. When I left the cable car at the summit hotel, I felt as if I had entered another world. Snowy mountains with craggy faces stretched for kilometers. Jet-black hawks soared on the wind, which whistled in gusts. I looked down and saw Zell jutting into the lake. To the south, the Kitzsteinhorn rose over Kaprun.

While most riders put on their skis, I walked beside their trail. With each step, it seemed a new view came into sight. Every few moments, I stopped, breathless. The path was easy to follow, and two feet of new snow gave traction on the hills. Skiers whooshed by shouting in delight. Every few moments, a loud thud echoed from miles away – an avalanche of settling snow.

When I returned to the summit, it was noon, and skis were stuck in the snow as the crowds gathered to eat lunch. A disc jockey played the latest Euro-hits and teased the skiers about their stylish garb. With a last look around, I entered the empty cable car for the trip back.

Downhill skiing isn't the only fun, or hair-raising, winter option! Courtesy of Aspen Skiing Company.The next morning, Claudia said she was taking me on an "an adventure" and to wear warm clothes. An hour later, we joined 25 German tourists trudging through the snow into a gaping chasm, the Siegmund-Thum- Klamm. One by one, a guide secured us with a safety harness to a pulley-like contraption attached to a steel wire. I shouted, jumped and flew 150 feet across the gorge. Over the next hour, I walked a 50-foot rope bridge that swayed 100 feet over the gorge floor, leaped from a cliff into rope webbing and was lowered by a cable to the bottom of the gorge. There, amid swirling snow, I stood in awe of the frozen waterfalls lining the gorge, the ice glowing a rich blue. (Similar "adventures" are available for ice climbing, glacier treks and overnight mountain hikes camping in igloos.)

That evening, my last in Zell, Claudia and I joined six South Americans for a sleigh ride around the town. The skies had turned nasty, and a cold snow was flying as our two-horse team pulled away. We covered ourselves with blankets and passed around bottles of schnapps as snow piled in our laps. We left the town for open fields and the decades fell behind us. Here we rode as farmers and townspeople traveled for centuries, the biting wind a stark counterpoint to the striking beauty around us.

It was a sad departure the next morning, but I made a list of activities I will try next time: skating around the lake, horseback riding on snowy trails, soaring around mountaintops in a glider, maybe even downhill skiing. Maybe. When You Go:

Getting there: Major international airlines fly to Munich or to Salzburg via Frankfurt, Vienna and Zurich. Trains run frequently from Salzburg to Zell am See for about $18 one-way.

Language: English is spoken in most hotels, restaurants and stores.

Lodging: Hotels cost from $50 to $150 a night, and rooms with private bath in pensions from $20 to $40.

A Typical Austrian Alpine village. Photo courtesy of MaupinTour.

Contact Information:

Europa-Sportregion Kaprun-Zell am See
www.anto.com/europa.html
P.O. Box 26, A-5710 Kaprun, Austria
Tel.: 011-43-6547-86430

Austrian National Tourist Office
www.anto.com
500 Fifth Ave., Suite 2009, New York, NY 10110
Tel: (212) 944-6880

Salzburg Province Board of Tourism
www.salzburg.com/SalzburgerLand/
A-5300 Hallwang/Salzburg
Tel: 011-43-662-6688