The Ski Lift

Luckily for us, the Feldburg ski lift (“Liftverbund Feldberg”) is repurposed after the spring snow melts. The cable cars lift off-season tourists (like Lynne and me) to the top of Feldberg Mountain, at 4,198 feet, in the Black Forest region of Germany. We expected to enjoy 360 degree views of the southern Black Forest and the Alps from this highest peak in the region. As part of a group of American hikers, mostly over the age of 65, Lynne and I were touring central Europe. Our itinerary promised us a ride to the top of Feldberg in a gondola.

We had started out the day taking an electric train from the small village of Hinterzarten. The train was fast, silent, clean, and on-time, giving me a very positive impression of the German investment in infrastructure. A few stops north, our group transferred to a similarly modern local bus. It was already filled with chattering junior high age students, obviously on a field trip. Lynne and I latched on to one of the few empty seats as the bus swooped up the curving forested road, soon leaving the populated area behind. For that short ride, I was immersed in the chatter and activity of this mostly homogeneously white group of German middle school boys and girls. Some shyly peered out the windows, sitting awkwardly in silence. Near me, a group of fashionable girls, one with blue hair, turned towards each other to talk non stop. I sensed a similarity with their American counterparts.

In twenty minutes, the bus pulled up and discharged us all near the base of the gondola, the young students trooping off towards an activity center. The green oblong cable car station was on full view above us. The small cars were suspended in the air from heavy cables. The cables snaked from one pole to another, 1000 feet up the mountain until they reached the distant peak, a dot in our view from the bottom. For now, the gondola area was motionless and silent.

“The gondola is not working,” our cheerful guide, Christian, announced unexpectedly in his accented English. “The conversion from ski lift to gondola has not been completed,” he explained. Christian calmly announced that we would be walking up the mountain instead. Thus began our day’s trek on foot.

We were a surprisingly agreeable group, hearty enough to accept this challenge of extra miles of uphill walking. Indulging in some humor, we cheerfully fell in behind our leader and soon were heading uphill. This turn of events spawned a standing joke as our two week trip evolved. “How much further before we get there?” we would ask, mimicking little children with the “Are we there yet?” question. Sometimes, Christian would scratch his head, and say “Half an hour,” then add with a sly look, “or an hour or two.”

It would be hard to complain about the scenery. We were walking on a well packed gravel path that twisted upward through open grassy meadows dotted with yellow buttercups, lacy white flowers of cow parsley, and purple Penstemon, passing occasional stands of beech, spruce and silver fir trees. We had the trail to ourselves, perhaps thanks to the non-operational cable cars. The elevation gain soon tested our lungs. Not only were we opposing gravity with every step, but we were breathing an increasingly thin atmosphere. Soon settling into a steady pace, our group spread out along the trail. I focused my energy on the physical task of hauling this aging body uphill.

 

We passed green signs displaying a caricature of a chicken. From the symbols, it seemed that the signs were warning skiers to stay out of the grove of spruce trees. The trees covered a sloping hillside leading down to the valley. After some banter in German between our guide and our local expert, Michael, they explained that the signs were about grouse. Michael enthusiastically jumped in with a ready explanation. Ground dwelling wood grouse are disappearing from Germany’s forest habitat as the grouse are increasingly disturbed by human activity. Among the charming details he shared was the fact that grouse eat small pebbles to help them digest their rugged winter diet of pine needles. When the deep snow fills this area, the skiers arrive, and the nesting grouse come face to face with human activity during the difficult winter season. The human activity disturbs the grouse, which are not elegant flyers. They fly down the hillsides, and have to use precious energy to regain their perches.

The skies had been optimistically blue for the first hour or so of our hike. Soon the skies began to transition to cloudiness. In the distance peaks across the valley, we could also see a threatening dark horizon marked with occasional lightning. Michael warned that storms were predicted for this area. Studying the situation, he estimated that we would have 45 minutes before the bad weather reached us. I noted that we were on an exposed trail with no shelter in sight. En masse, everyone stopped and extracted clouds of green and yellow high tech rain gear from our packs. The clouds intensified over head. Like my fellow hikers, I suited up, dismissed the light drizzle and pressed onwards. The weather became more concerning. The precipitation turned into solid rain, and we could hear thunder approaching. Only the leaders understood that just around the corner was the mountain hut where we were expected for lunch.

 The stone and wood two story mountain hut, (Todtnauer Hütte) appeared just at the right time. The noticeable precipitation turned into a downpour of rain and the breezes became a blustery wind. We raced for the building, where the hostess held open the front door and greeted us with a knowing smile. Motioning us to follow, she led the now dripping group down the hallway to the covered porch. With its high arched glass ceiling, it was a perfectly dry and welcoming place for us to be while the storm blew, thundered and pounded down rain. I enjoyed having a close-up experience of the storm while being protected from it.

Long wooden tables had been set in anticipation of our visit. After taking our seats, Lynne and I peered somewhat helplessly at the menus. They were written in German. With the help of a friend who spoke German, we managed to order:

• Käsespätzle (cheese noodles with mountain cheese),
• Hausgemachte Gulaschsuppe (Homemade Goulash soup) 
• Gemischter Salat (vegetarisch) mit Gurken, Karotten und Tomaten

(Mixed salad with cucumber, carrots and tomatoes.)

 A feast of food soon arrived at the tables. The host family at this mountain hut was from Croatia, and obviously the cook had a way with food. As soon as my plate arrived, I took a photo, in part to honor the lovely presentation, in part to research later what we were eating. We followed up the main meal with universally appreciated Apfelstrudel (apple strudel), which came on a platter framed with whipped cream. By the time the storm let up, we were well sated.

 

The group chose to continue to the top of the main peak, the Höchste or "Highest" of Feldberg, at 4,898 feet.  We could see it in the distance from the hut. Picking up our packs and setting out on the increasingly narrow dirt track, we made good use of our hiking poles as it got steeper. My focus was on careful foot placement as the trail got rockier. Before long, there we were, higher than everything else around us. Finally looking down from above, the mountain hut appeared in miniature below us, and the gondola was hidden by the trees at the base of the mountain. The trail we had just followed was indistinguishable in the large sweep of meadow grasses. We could gaze at distant mountains, but it wasn’t clear enough to see the Alps. The guides gave us time to linger, absorbing the expansive view. Other than human banter, the only sounds were the voices of the wind. With the group, I shared an experience of awe amidst the geologic grandeur of Feldberg, a feeling I savored as we soon headed down the mountain, step by step.

Western capercaillies, also called wood grouse, are Europe's largest chicken birds. They are not elegant fliers due to their body weight and short, rounded wings. While taking off they produce a sudden thundering noise that deters predators. Because of their body size and wingspan they avoid young and dense forests when flying. While flying they rest in short gliding phases.

 They are considered very shy, live only in untouched mountain forest regions and are seriously threatened with extinction. They have long been part of the classic Black Forest myth of largely idyllic and intact nature

 If you want to know more, here’s a good site: Overview  of capercaillies

 This amazing story reflects the reality of humans interfacing with grouse: “The last grouse” story from the NY Times

Here’s a link to the mountain hut where we ate lunch: Todtnauer-huette. You can see the menu yourself and test your German!

 This Wikipedia article explains “mountain huts.” Mountain hut