Last week, after a mixed experience with snowshoeing in the Karwendel Mountains, I was eager to give it another shot. I recalled meeting a couple in the parking area who had enthusiastically suggested I explore a trail situated in a neighboring valley, claiming that the snowfall there was particularly deep. With their recommendation in mind, I found myself once again at the trailhead, motivated and ready for this new adventure – my snowshoes attached to my backpack.
The First Steps Into the Snow
As I took my first steps into the snow, I was a bit surprised by the hardness of the surface. The first short section of the trail led me up a snowy path to a forest road. This was when I had to resort to a side step, as the snow was so hard I could scarcely leave an imprint with my boots. I considerd switching to my micro spikes, which I had packed, should the conditions remain unchanged. But as of then I was too lazy to stop just so shortly after the start to mount them.
Just a few moments later, I reached the edge of the forest road and couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight before me: pure, blank ice stretched out on either side as far as I could see. Without hesitation, I strapped on my micro spikes and commenced my journey, relieved to have them with me for exactly such conditions. I always find it a bit amazing to walk on such blank ice and feel the grip of the spikes and the noise they make.
Along the way, I crossed paths with a couple of skiers who were also navigating the conditions. We exchanged brief conversations, sharing light-hearted remarks about the icy circumstances we faced. Eventually, I was fortunate enough to notice a change in the landscape. What initially had been ice converted into hard-packed snow. The scenery around me also looked increasingly snowy as I gained altitude.
Atop the Valley Meadows
As I ascended to the higher grounds of the valley, the forest receded to unveil a wide snow-covered meadow surrounded by majestic mountains. I admit they are not super high in that place but coming out of the forest and seeing these walls of rock – I found it impressive. Lost in the stunning winter panorama, I took a moment to appreciate the silence and solitude, which marked a welcome contrast to the bustling life during the week. And I also cought myself planning already to come back in summer and try to get higher up into the snow covered mountains.
However, after proceeding into the valley I felt the snow below me begin to soften. And just at the moment I thought about switching to snow shoes, I sank in almost to my knees. I chuckled at this coincidence and promptly switched from micro spikes to snowshoes to carry on my adventure. My objective at this point was quite relaxed – no specific destination in mind other than wandering amidst the beautiful snow and getting to see the area.
Once again, I encountered the ski tourer couple as they caught up and passed by me. We discussed the loop they were planning to tackle, with their final ascent promising a daunting 30 percent incline over ~400 meters of elevation. I decided my course would be much more leisurely. I intended to walk as far as would remain comfortable, potentially spotting where the incline became truly steep and challenging.
Knowing When to Turn Back
As I ambled onward, stopping to take photographs along the way, the slope indeed grew steeper. I watched the couple in the distance as they confidently ascended the incline. At some point, however, I decided it was time to turn around. I had assessed my circumstances: it would surely be quite tiring to continue up the steep slope, especially sidestepping in snowshoes, and I had already enjoyed a rewarding experience. Also, I had not informed anyone of my intention to fully complete the loop, and that thought also played into my decision.
With a sense of satisfaction, I began my return. I felt pleased to have my snowshoes, especially when passing a group of hikers struggling without them, sinking deeply into the snow.
Interestingly, I noticed during my trek back that I was in a unique walking mood. I found myself less inclined to stop and ponder at some spots or set up for the perfect photo. Instead, I craved the simple act of walking, reveling in the rhythm of my steps. This was a refreshing realization, one I hadn’t encountered before. So I embraced it, allowing myself to enjoy the peaceful journey back to the trailhead.