Been spending most our time living in a hiker’s paradise

If you think our snowy trek through the highest mountains in Europe has tattered our hiking shoes, think again. Kate and I just came back from a four night stay in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany’s alpine-skiing-cum-hiking-resort. And I’ll tell you, while standing on top of one of the foothills cowering beneath the massive massifs lumbering above I thought to myself: this is hiker pornography.

Joining us on this adventure was Pecos, my mom, her husband Bill, and two Jerseyite friends, Linda and Rick. Bill had rented a holiday house for the seven of us in a great area of town, only five minutes by foot to the quaint town center. We had all met there on Saturday and wasted no time getting to know the small Bavarian town renowned for its panoramic vistas, mooing cows, and edelweiss flowers.

Garmisch is beautiful. It is all things Bavaria – craggy gray mountains, rugged green slopes, cute onion-spired churches, and charming slanted-roof houses, all dutifully painted with the characteristic religious effigies made common throughout this Catholic state. Seeing this town is truly a trip worth making.

The journey, however, started with a deep, somber note, as we spent the first day looking for the best place to scatter my Oma’s ashes. Like most Germans, she loved the mountains, the edelweiss, and cowbells for more than their bucolic beauty (although beautiful they are). She loved what they stood for – a proud heritage of Germany itself.

Sure, there are Germans from the hilly wine region near us and Germans from the lowlands of the North and Baltic seas. My Oma, in fact, was from metropolitan Berlin (no mountains there). But deep down, she, like most Germans, admit – nay, declare – that the mountains and edelweiss of this alpine are, in fact, manifestations of Germania. This is Bavaria. And we spread her ashes in what we thought was one of the most agreeable spots of this state, located on the top of the wooded Eckbauer mountain trail, looking up at the high craggy mountains on the way to the dramatic gorge called the Partnachklamm. I’m sure some edelweiss will grow near her, just to hear the stories she has to tell.


After that task - the purpose of the trip - was complete, we headed down the mountain toward the gorge, making sure to stop off for a cool glass of beer at the various-shades-of-brown Bergasthof restaurant along the way.

This mountain, we knew, had one of the many ski jumps made famous in the 1936 Winter Olympics held here. The beer we expected (and had high expectations for). But the magnificence of the rushing blue-green water swiftly pulsing through the dramatic gorge took us all by surprise. It was a sunny day. It was warm. And the sky was a pale blue. Usually, you can’t get a more perfect afternoon. But the Acquafina-clear glacial water that was steadily carving away at the stoic rocks made it one heck of a memorable hike.

The next day we visited the Eibsee, a small glacier-fed lake in the middle of the rugged green peaks of the 5,000-foot alpine foothills. The water was a beautiful Caribbean green color, with hardly a plant or animal to be seen. The stony beach and gentle slope into the water provided a puppy playground for Pecos, who loved saving drowning stones almost half his size from the frigid abyss.

After a good 20 minutes throwing stones for the dog, we hiked the three hours around this magnificent lake, despite claims that it was only 1.5 hours. Slow? Yes. But relish we did in the beauty of the place!

The following and last full day we sauntered through a petite market town on the border of Austria called Mittenwald. This town has had a long connection with violins and is home to a violin-making museum and a statue of the man who founded the industry – Mathias Klotz.

But, despite its repute, we spent the afternoon ignoring violins and ambling into and out of the small shops selling Bavarian clothes, table linens, and handmade wood carvings of mostly religious figures – very popular here. We finished the afternoon in Mittenwald with some ice cream and, of course, its best counterpart: Bavarian beer.

Later that afternoon, just before the sun was setting, my mom, Kate, Pecos, and I took a slog up one of the slopes of a nearby mountain and found a solitary church overlooking the town of Garmisch. There, on that grassy lookout under the sunny skies above, all four of us stood in a state of bemusement. We had known Garmisch was a picture-perfect little town amid the foothills of the alps. We had seen the onion-topped spire of the church and had gawked at the cute steep-sloped Bavarian roofs. We had even smiled at the crystal-clear steam that runs right through the middle of this picture-perfect town. But, on that hilltop, we saw it all. Encapsulated within the soaring craggy alps. Illuminated by the bright dazzling sun. Contrasted with the surrounding green slopes. And even punctuated by a slow red train sliding along the side of the town at the base of the mountains. It looked like a train-set town….too perfect to be true. But, it was true. This was Garmisch. Where the edelweiss grow. And where Oma shall rest in peace.