Episode summary:
I travelled to Upper Bavaria in southern Germany to climb the Kramerspitz mountain. I failed due to thick mist near the summit but was still rewarded with an incredible wildlife moment on the lower slopes. If you’re wondering ‘is it hard to hike the Kramerspitz’, ‘what are the most beautiful hiking trails in Germany’, or ‘what animals are in the Bavarian Alps’, this podcast might shine a light for you.
Listen to a podcast about getting a wonderful wildlife surprise in Bavaria.
Transcript – S2 E7: A wonderful wildlife surprise in Bavaria
This week we’re experiencing a wonderful and unexpected wildlife moment on a wooded hillside in Bavaria.
I sit down on the rickety bench with a groan. Everything aches: my feet, my calves, my shoulders where the straps of my rucksack have rubbed them. Not to be outdone, my knees are complaining too, from somewhere deep inside the cartilage. My mind, however, is ignoring all this whining and feeling very content. I’ve been in the mountains all day, which is always my happy place and where I feel above the everyday smog of life.
I’ve been climbing the Kramerspitz in Upper Bavaria in far southern Germany but sadly did not make it to the summit this time. Low cloud enveloped the upper reaches and I’ve been on enough mountains in cloud to know that the risks outweigh the rewards. In fact there are no rewards: no view, no sunlight warmth in which to sit and eat your chocolate. There’s just damp, cold and the potential for death by accidentally stepping off the edge. So, as I was walking into the cloud base along the narrow Kramersteig track I admitted defeat, turned round and headed back down the hill. Good decision.
A view to die for
I’m back on the lower slopes now and probably less than 45 minutes stroll from a refreshing stein of weissbier in the Martinshutte which stands on the valley slope and has possibly the most spectacular view of any pub in the world. But I’m a couple of hours ahead of schedule due to my thwarted attempt at the summit so I feel like I don’t really deserve a litre of ale just yet. Because of the extra time on my hands I took the longer route down heading north east along the Maurersteig trail which follows the flank of the valley and am now at a clearing with the rickety bench and a small wooden crucifixion statue on a pole. Technically I’m on Königsstand, a modest peak of its own at 1,453 metres or just shy of 5,000 feet.
I unpack the sandwiches I’d prepared for a summit lunch. There’s nobody about. It’s too late for hikers to start climbing the Kramerspitz and too early for those who did brave the mist to be coming down. This is the sweet spot of the afternoon and as if to prove the point the sun re-emerges, streaming down through the clouds in crepuscular rays. The view is breathtaking. I have a 180-degree vista that includes the high walls and lush green floors of not one but two valleys that meet here. The Loisach river flows down from the Zugspitz – Germany’s tallest peak – and takes a long left-hand bend here as the Kankerbach joins it from the east. Together they head off north eventually joining the Isar and flowing through the heart of Munich. The air is rarefied up here, crisp and clear as if it’s been filtered of all pollution by some very clever German technical invention. Sunlight is flooding the scene now, glinting off the cable cars, cruising up and down the slopes of Mount Wank directly across the valley.
Close encounter with regal wildlife
The clearing is skirted with fir trees and there’s a cool breeze coming through them but I’m still warm and glowing from my hike. I’m halfway through my second peanut butter sandwich when I freeze, stock still. Out of the undergrowth steps a majestic deer. It arrives so suddenly, confidently, like a character in a play striding onto the stage ready to make a memorable speech. It sees me and starts but does not run. It moves its head a little, sniffs the air and tunes its ears into my wavelength. I am transfixed. It’s incredibly beautiful. I admit I’m a little rusty on my deer physiology but I’d say it was fully grown, maybe at least four feet tall from hoof to ear tip. The thing that grabs me most is how stately it is, how elegant, how, well, regal. And how appropriate for it to be here on a hill that translates to English as Royal Stand.
It must consider me harmless as it turns its head to gaze down into the confluence of valleys and for a magical moment we both stay still, marvelling at the same view, just a few feet from each other. I half expect the deer to turn back towards me and say – in German, of course – “nice view isn’t it”. I’m starving but I can’t afford to risk moving my arm and making the deer dart back into the trees so my peanut butter sandwich stays in my hand, uneaten and attracting the odd midge or two.
The deer and I hear cowbells clanging way down in the valley, making this scene even more alpine if it’s possible. Mountaineering always gives me a great sense of freedom, of feeling lofty and elated. But to have this wonderful wildlife encounter on top of all that, even if just for a moment, makes me feel truly euphoric.
© copyright Matthew Brace
