A Leisurely Hike up the Bavarian Alps

The view along the route (as I was pretending to carefully adjust my camera while really just needing to catch my breath)

“Hi…I’m…Susan…”

My words faded away in the crisp morning air. I had no breath left for anything other than putting one foot in front of the other.

“Hi…I’m..Maximilian…”

To acknowledge his effort, I gave it one more try.

“Where…do you…? Sorry, that’s all… I have in…me until…we reach…the summit…”

“East…Boston. And…me…too.”

We laughed. But only a little. It took too much energy and oxygen.

This brief conversation took place on Friday, during what was described in the German tourist itinerary as a “leisurely hike” up Mount Wallberg.

I started the day with confidence; I can do a leisurely hike, no problem. I am with a group of 48 people, mostly from Boston, here to explore Bavaria for four days and enjoy some time at Ockoberfest (and then I am heading on to Geneva to visit my daughter). As we headed out from our hotel in the morning, some had already decided to take the Wallbergbahn (gondola) to the top of the mountain. Others looked at the summit as we got off the bus and quickly walked straight to the gondola. The rest of us? We hit the trail.

Mount Wallberg is 1722 m (5,650 ft) above sea level and part of the Bavarian Alps. Led by guides, our group took the shorter, steeper Sommerweg route to the top, ascending 830 meters (a half mile of vertical) from the gondola station to the restaurant near the summit. (It’s always good to have a restaurant as the destination: extra incentive.) The path started out steep from the start, and we hiked up and up 6.5 km (4 miles) of trail. My paper calculations reveal that is a 13% average gradient with the trail ranging from 10-20% incline in an unrelenting ascent. There was not a single flat part of trail until we reached the top. No recovery spots to slow down walking to catch my breath and pretend I am in excellent shape. I am thankful I had my camera with me. It’s always a good excuse to stop and take a photo, trying to fool everyone around me that I don’t need the break, I just need time to fiddle with the buttons and dials for that perfect shot.

And the real kicker? Well into the hike, when we were all convinced we must be near the top, we did indeed come out of the trees to see lush fields of grass and buildings. At last! I enjoyed the expansive views across the mountain range and the sounds of bells on the happy cows roaming around us. I breathed a long, deep relief-infused inhale of mountain air and felt the joy of accomplishment that was squashed mere seconds later when our guides directed us to a side trail that continued the climb on what was the steepest and most unrelenting part of the hike.

I have since learned that our route is ranked “medium” difficultly in the German guides, but I am now suspicious of the Germans and their “leisurely hikes” and “medium” difficulty ratings. One thing I know for sure is that my “medium” doesn’t match their medium. Maybe it’s just a translation thing.

We eventually reached the summit (and to give credit where due, there were members of our group who finished well ahead, with nary a hair out of place or bead of sweat on their brow) and had a moment of congratulatory celebration for our accomplishment.

This “leisurely hike” could have been miserable. I could have spent 2-1/2 hours thinking about how I should be in better shape or dwelling on my stupidity for not taking the gondola. I could have stubbornly slowed to a crawl and taken another hour (or more) to ascend or turned around early in the hike to head down to the gondola for a ride to the top.

I thought and did none of these things. When our group got to the top, we had lunch at the restaurant and Maximilian said something simple, yet profound that put it all in perspective.

“The parts of this hike when someone was beside me were so much better than the times I was alone.”

Oh yes, Maximilian. You are so right.

Because of all those people beside me, I had a great hike. Despite the incline and the pace. Despite leaving my water bottle back at the hotel. Despite wearing a raincoat over a sweater over my T-shirt and needing neither of those two outer layers five minutes into the hike. Despite sweat-soaked hair. Despite realizing my regular gym visits need supplementing with some kick-ass outdoors activities.

All those people beside me filled the hike with moments of laughter (less as we ascended but it was there nonetheless) and good-natured jokes. Marc in our group was focused on how much of the hike remained, and I wanted none of it. I wanted to stay in the moment and just focus on the here and now instead of the long ascent ahead. I didn’t want to believe I was three-quarters through only to be told that we had three-quarters left ahead of us. When he regularly announced progress, I stuck my fingers in my ears and mumbled “blah blah blah” to myself, drowning out the news. I felt like a small child not wanting to hear something from her parents. My instincts were right. During one such report from Marc, I didn’t block my ears quickly enough. Really, only halfway? After all this time and effort? Really?

Lucas apologized for his male privilege and stripped off his shirt to cool off, something I desperately wanted to do. Colleen shared her water bottle, each of us holding it high above our lips and dripping water into our parched mouths. When we came to a break in the trees and saw the gondola in the distance, traveling up and over what we thought was our destination, and then disappearing into the nether regions of the mountain top, we masked our dismay by urging each other on.

“You’ve got this!”

And as we hiked up and up, above the cloud cover, we inflated stories of our magnificent feat.

“These are the Alps, right? Mount Wallberg is part of the Bavarian Alps? We climbed the Alps today! We tackled a mountain!”

“We’re doing this after last night! That’s a big deal” (We are in Germany. It’s Oktoberfest. The beer and wine are flowing quite freely. I will leave to your imagination what our “last night” looked like.)

When we reached the top, Amy only half joked that we were now “trauma bonded” and it got a good laugh. Well, a semblance of a laugh; we were all still catching our breath.

I have loved traveling solo these past two years, but nothing beats this.

When my daughter left for college, I celebrated my empty nester status by hitting the road on my 14,000-mile cross country trip in September 2023. For the first time in almost thirty years, I was traveling as a party of one instead of planning for and considering the places and activities my kids and I could all enjoy or with my employees on a work trip, cramming in client meetings and site visits that left no time for local exploration.

On an extended break from my planning firm, the first two weeks of that 3-1/2 month road trip were a big adjustment. What do I want? Where do I want to go? As the weeks flew by, I relished the time I had alone with myself to begin grappling with even deeper questions. Who am I without work to define me? Without considering the needs of my kids 24/7?

I quickly got used to the “me” time as the trip went on and since then, I have reveled in the joy I experience when traveling solo: the joy of gratitude, of beauty, of serendipity. And the joy of traveling winding roads at good speed, testing the Blue Car and myself. Perhaps most of all, I revel in the alone time to figure out what’s important to me now, and my goals for this next chapter of my life.

My “leisurely hike” up Mount Wallberg on Friday morning reminds me that as much as I love everything about traveling solo, nothing beats the camaraderie and laughter of smart, funny, adventurous fellow travelers. It’s hard to experience that deep belly-aching laugh without other people around, sharing a story, a joke, a trauma bonding. And wow, those deep belly-aching laughing moments are gold. We all need them.

Who knew that a “leisurely hike” could open new questions about what I want at this point in life?

I had a conversation with another group member who said when she retired, she said “yes” to everything to explore her new life and to test her interests. It got exhausting after a while and now she is more careful in what she chooses. This resonates with me as I think about the joys of solo travel and the magic of group laughs. I needed the solo travel of the past two years to test my interests, to know myself better, and to figure out a new way of “being.” But perhaps now it’s time to re-calibrate, to think about balance. I think we can get stuck in thinking we always need the same things, when in fact a little questioning can yield surprising revelations about our changing lives.

What do I add to create the balance? While my four months in Europe with the Blue Car next spring are planned as a solo trip, I am definitely looking forward to some belly-aching group laughs as yet to be determined. I will do a week-long writing retreat while in the UK and hope to do a photo workshop somewhere along the way. And the dependable and ever-helpful Porsche owners throughout Europe have reached out in good numbers to offer suggested routes and the possibility of connecting for weekend drives. After this week’s group trip, I am thinking that more of these things may be added to my trip and my life. What’s the right balance? What leaves room for the things I want to do, the people I love, and future fabulous possibilities? And the belly-aching laughs?

As I am thinking about our need to constantly re-calibrate our lives, I just read the reviews of our “leisurely hike” on AllTrails and am also reminded that it’s sometimes best not to know what you will encounter on the trail ahead. Hikers left the following nuggets of wisdom:

“If you want to walk up the route, you need a lot of stamina…”

“Steep incline for the entire hiking (!!) but it’s worth it.”

“This trail is not for the faint of heart as it challenges your endurance.”

More than one of us said we wouldn’t have done the hike if we knew what was ahead of us. And all of us said we were so glad we did. It was a lovely feeling to be at the top and share the moment of accomplishment with those who had walked side by side. I want more moments of being glad I did something rather than heading back down the path. And more moments laughing with great people by my side. Here’s to “leisurely hikes” with all the joys and challenges they bring!

…and for those back in Boston asking, Matthias may or may not have leisurely hiked up the mountain. I really can’t say. After all, what happens in Bavaria stays in Bavaria.