Austria

Grossglockner

Austria’s high alpine road, the Großglockner, was purpose built as a tourist attraction in the 1930s. At 2,500 m, it is the highest road in Austria and attracts over 350,000 vehicles each year. The biker hotel Birkenhof served us a great breakfast. They also sold us a discounted ticket for the Grossglockner, which is a toll road. The sun was out and a few clouds scudded around the alpine foothills. The weather was almost perfect. Warm without being hot. Dry and clear.

We were heading north. The road wound up a range of hills with tantalising views of the alps in the distance. Then we dropped down into the Drautal valley, a beautiful area of mountains, forests, waterfalls and rivers. Popular not only because of the road but also for skiing, biking, hiking and climbing. At Dölsach, we left the main valley and started following the Möll river north to the foot of the Grossglockner mountain. Here we could skip the queue at the toll booth with our pre-paid ticket and started the climb up to the Kaiser-Franz-Josefs-Höhe visitors’ centre at 2,369 m.

Apparently, Emperor Franz visited here in 1856 and quite liked the place. I could see why. The views are spectacular although the glacier has mostly melted now. An impressive collection of old cars was coming down the road. They all had badges indicating an organised rally. In fact, the whole place was busy with many drivers out enjoying the weather. After seeing an enthusiastic motorcyclist nearly make a spectacular mess of a corner, we resolutely decided to keep it slow and safe. There are a few places on this road where if you came off it would really spoil your day.

We hung around the observation platform for a while and spotted some marmots. A couple of real, live animals at the bottom of a wall and hundreds of stuffed toys in the enormous souvenir shop. There were many motorbikes parked up in a large parking area exclusively for bikes. The road is particularly popular with bikers. We reckoned we saw more big motorcycles in this one day than we saw in the whole of the rest of our trip.

Heading higher up we passed through a small tunnel which crosses the Alpine divide. On the north side of the Alps we followed a side road up to the Edelweißspitze viewpoint at 2,571 m. This involves a sequence of hairpins bends on a narrow, cobbled road. Care and balance required. With a fully loaded bike and a pillion this can be a bit tricky. We succeeded without embarrassing ourselves and parked up with the other bikes.

More beautiful views. Majestic mountains. Snow and glaciers fuelling the many torrents cascading down precipitous, craggy walls. Far in the distance is a glimpse into the lush valleys. A lovely little mountain hut, the Edelweißhutte, is here. They were doing a roaring trade serving bikers sat around in the sunshine. It was not just bikers up here. But it was mostly bikers. We discovered that you could stay overnight in the Edelweißhutte. An excellent adventure, at 2,571 m, for another time. We needed to press on.

Descending the cobbles was a little easier than getting up. Back on the road we began negotiating the seemingly endless sequence of hairpins that bring you down off the Hochtor pass. The air got warmer. Steep, rocky walls gave way to forested slopes. Amongst fields of cows, we passed the northern toll booth on our way to Bruck in the Salzach valley. We had been in this area last winter for some skiing. It looked hugely different now. The ski runs were green tongues lapping down the hillsides and the frozen lakes were blue and alive with birds. Late afternoon we bade goodbye to the Alps and crossed into a bit of Czechia that sort of protrudes into Austria.

Next day, we started the trek back to the UK. North through Czechia. Pilsen. Carlsbad. Then into Germany near Leipzig. From there, pretty much due west to Rotterdam and the ferry. Five days of steady riding. Each morning, we would breakfast, get our riding gear on, pack the bike and set off down the road. In the evening, we would arrive, relax for a while, have dinner and go to bed. After six weeks on the road, we had totally settled into the rhythm of it. The last few days were thoroughly enjoyable although there was nothing spectacular. We took very few photos. I often find that at the very end of a trip you start looking backwards more than forwards. Reflecting on everything that happened. 14,000 km. 12 countries. It had been a good one.

Lake Balaton

North from Novi Sad to Hungary. At the first border crossing we were denied. “This is a small border, for Europeans, you have to go to the big border”. Since we are no longer part of the EU we can only leave Serbia at major crossing points. Thank you Brexit. Leaving the pleasant, quiet country roads, we slogged up the motorway for over an hour. Spent the next hour baking in the sun while standing in line. Got into Hungary with no problems but then we were a long way off the planned route. The afternoon was four hours of motorway tedium.

We arrived by the eastern end of Lake Balaton hot, dusty, tired and in need of a drink. Lake Balaton is the largest freshwater lake in central Europe and an important tourist destination. In particular, Germans like to come here to do “wellness”. I have never completely fathomed what this is about. It involves, amongst other things, getting hot in a spa and wandering around in white bathrobes. We settled in a shady spot just outside to enjoy a glass of cold, white wine before we did anything else. Two elderly, somewhat overweight men, clad in just speedos, came and started playing table tennis right next to us. I could only guess what nationality they were. We moved round the corner.

Next day was a leisurely ride alongside the lake. Balaton is 170 km long so this is not a trivial ride but it was lovely to relax a bit after the full-on slog of the previous day. Another warm and sunny day gave the place a holiday feel. Cycling is exceedingly popular here. There are dedicated cycle trails right the way around the lake. We took it easy and stopped for several coffee breaks along the way. Our hotel at the far western end of the lake was another “wellness” establishment. It also described itself as “superior”. We have since decided to view the words “wellness” and “superior” a hotel description as a warning. There were indeed many superior people doing wellness – but this is no place for bikers.

Leaving the hordes of white towelling clad Germans in the morning we headed for Croatia. Easy, rolling countryside and slightly cooler weather made for a great ride. We only clipped the corner of Croatia before entering Slovenia. Another lovely country of picturesque rural landscapes and quaint villages. We passed north of the fabulously named capital city of Ljubljana. Not sure why but I really like this name. Was very pleased when I finally learned how to pronounce it. Our hotel was perfect. A stark contract to the night before. Unpretentious, small, friendly, cosy and familiar. A traditional wood and stone building with a sense of an old coaching Inn about it. We were served a basic meal of pasta. No overpriced sparkling water, no carefully ironed linen napkins and absolutely no genuflecting. What we did get was delicious food matched perfectly with a bottle of local wine. We could relax here comfortably without feeling we were being judged.

In the morning, we headed for the lovely town of Bled. A pretty place with views across Lake Bled and overlooked by Castle Bled. Unfortunately, it is a tourist magnet. Even this early in the season it was packed with coaches and gangs of tourist sheep being led around by their guides. We kept going. Not even stopping for a mouthful of cremeschnitte (custard slice) that the area is famous for. Past the lake and south into the mountains. Soon we were far from the madding crowds and winding our way up small, steep roads with glimpses of snow. By the evening, we had crossed two excellent mountain passes to arrive at the town of Tolmin. Here we lucked upon one of the best pizzas of the trip.

I had hoped we could ride the Transfăgărășan highway in Romania but we were thwarted. It does not open until July. No matter, we could at least do the Vršič Pass, also known as the Russian Road in Slovenia. The day dawned bright and clear. We got an early start but it was not to be. No idea why the road was closed. Checking the internet revealed nothing. But there it was. A great big red circle sign erected in the middle of the road. It was was definitely closed. We turned left and went to Italy. This proved to be quite fun. Another, less famous, pass but interesting none the less. Great views. From there we crossed into Austria and a terrific biker hotel in the foothills. Suddenly we were in a different sort of world. Everyone at this hotel was a biker. Everyone had an adventure bike. We were made to feel very welcome. Bikes all went in a secure shed. We sat outside with the others and talked about bike things while dining, Austrian style, on dumplings. Next day we would tackle Austria’s highest mountain pass – the Großglockner-Hochalpenstraße.

Italy

Leaving warm and sunny Budapest, we wandered off across Austria in search of snow. We found some. Mostly the dirty, slushy remains of ski slopes. Many resorts had shut down completely. Only the few higher altitude places were still running. We ended up in Kaprun, where they had a glacier. Sadly, the weather was rubbish, so we went for a walk instead and found a nice lake.

We pressed on. Not only in search of snow but also a good weather forecast. Two days later, we slipped into Italy and a little village at the end of Val Senales. This looked a lot more promising and I finally got a good day’s skiing. Then the weekend came, the place became very crowded and the weather turned bleak and cloudy. I spent a day sorting out my photographs. This is causing me a few problems at the moment. A couple of months ago I convinced myself that RAW images were the way to go. They allow much more scope for editing. The first problem was finding some software to use for sorting and editing. Diane and I take quite a lot of pictures so the first thing I need to do is move the images onto my PC and delete all the bad ones. Then I go back and start getting more meticulous while at the same time doing some cropping and rotating. Finally, I might do some colour and brightness corrections before exporting a small selection, in a lower resolution, to use on the blog. A modicum of research suggested that Corel Aftershot would do the job. Out of the tin, this appeared to be the case. It allows you to quickly view and sort the images so I could do a first pass filter quite efficiently. A database of change information allows you to apply corrections such as resizing, exposure and colour balance without changing the original. Finally, an export function supports conversion to JPEG format while also resizing. All good.

Then I started to discover the software is disappointingly flaky. The program crashes at random intervals. Some changes to an image render it unviewable by the software. The export batch process hangs up on any thing more than a couple of images and so on. This is disappointing because Corel appear to be putting more emphasis on headline features than creating solid, reliable software. The final straw came when I got my little camera back from being repaired. This is a Canon Powershot G1X. A terrific and handy pocket camera. But Aftershot cannot read the RAW files from it. A camera profile, specific to each camera, is needed. A profile for the Powershot is not included. I searched the Corel website for a solution and was eventually passed to a “expert”. A week later, after being passed onto several different experts, I concluded that I already knew far more about Aftershot and problem of camera profiles than they did.

Back at square one, I looked at some other image processing software and have now settled on Cyberlink Photodirector. Immediately I spotted two benefits. Not only will it import images from all my cameras, but it also crashes far less often. On the downside, it has a massive emphasis on using AI to mess with your images. Interesting to play with but not what I need. So again, the rush to introduce headline features has left the rest of the application a bit inconsistent. I might even say, incoherent. It is taking some time to work out the best way to use the software for the mundane tasks of sorting, filtering, and very simple tweaking. One pet hate of mine is a confirmation dialogue box every time I want to delete a file. Are you sure? Yes! Stop asking me. An extra mouse click for each delete operation may not seem much but by the 200^th time in one afternoon it gets very irritating.

Wandering further into the incredibly beautiful Dolomite mountains we arrived at the delightful town of Cortina – “one of Italy’s most famous, fashionable and expensive ski resorts”, says Lonely Planet. Certainly, the town centre boasts shops with names like Gucci, Versace and Louis Vuitton. We gave them a wide berth. Our hotel had a balcony commanding an excellent view over the town to the Dolomite peaks beyond. We only stayed a couple of nights but enjoyed sitting out, watching the sunset on both evenings. I managed to get in a terrific day of skiing. Next day we moved on to somewhere slightly less fabulous but much more cost effective.

First thing we did when we crossed from Italy to Austria was to go to Switzerland. The Riesa Pass brought us close to the village of Samnaun, a village where we spent a lot of time during the Covid lockdown. Although technically in Switzerland, Samnaun is mostly accessible from Austria and, for some reason, is a duty-free enclave. Very good place to buy alcohol and ski equipment. I wanted a new pair of skis. While travelling in Baloo, I had limited myself to a single set of skis. These are some wide, long, all-mountain skis. Terrific for fresh snow and skiing off piste, less good for the steep, icy pistes they appear to favour in Austria. I had done my research and knew what I wanted. Much shorter, narrower skis, necked in the middle so they will bite into the snow and help me properly carve turns. We looked in a couple of shops and then there they were. The skis of my dreams. Waiting patiently for me in the basement of the third shop. And at a healthy, duty-free price. We also bought some alcohol.

Back to Austria and the village of See. This shares the same valley as Ishgyl, one of the larger and busier ski resorts. See, however, is much smaller, quieter, more peaceful and altogether more our type of place. We got lucky with an apartment literally just across the road from the ski lift. I had a couple of terrific days skiing. The weather was a bit mixed but some flurries of fresh snow helped the state of the slopes and one morning I even found some fresh powder to play in. On the second day, Diane came with me on the ski bus to Kappl, a little further down the valley. This is another small ski area covered by the same lift ticket. The sun broke through the clouds from time to time and the views were terrific. We met up at the top lift station for lunch.

Next stop was Sölden. This a large, popular area at the end of a valley. The small, mountain road over the pass at the end of the valley is closed in the winter. I had booked a couple of nights at a hotel that appeared to be part the way up this road. The Hotel Silbertal runs a shuttle service from village and advises that to drive there yourself requires a 4×4 and snow chains. I found this irresistible, and we did end up using the snow chains. The hotel is right at the end of the ski area but high up so that you can ski in and out. We watched the sun set over the mountains at the end of the valley while sipping wine on the balcony. This all seemed perfect to me and to round off my pleasure the food proved to be excellent. Vegetarians are well catered for. The cooking was imaginative and tasty. The downside to this wonderful place was the cost. We kept our visit to a couple of nights in between which I had a long, hard day of skiing.

Driving further west, past Innsbruck and Mayrhofen, took us to the village of Bramberg am Wildkogel. Another smaller ski area and a return to the more modest apartments that we usually stay in. There had been a worrying lack of fresh snow for the previous week and the weather continued to warm up. As we arrived it was raining, clearing the last remnants of snow away from the valley. For the next two days it rained. I am quite keen on skiing but not so keen as to get intentionally soaked in the process. Anyhow, rain makes the snow slushy, heavy and difficult. Even up on the mountain tops it was raining, not snowing. We had a drive round. Visited the bottom of the Großglockner pass – also closed in winter.

We moved northwards past Kitzbuhl to Niederau. Our good friend Tim has a cousin who rents apartments here. We got a deal on a nice, cosy place for a week plus some excellent local advice and schnapps on arrival. The rain had passed, the sun came out and most of the week was warm and pleasant. The trouble is that warm and pleasant is not ideal for ski slopes. There are three small ski areas easily accessible along the valley. I enjoyed exploring them and Diane came along to take in the views. But all the time the snow was getting thinner and icier. It began to feel like spring skiing. This can be fun. Skiing in the warm sun with views across green fields. It does not last too long though before the snow is gone completely. Last year we had spent much of January in Chamonix vainly waiting for snow. Here it was looking like the ski season would end in February. I started to wonder, with climate change apparently starting to really kick in now, has the halcyon age of alpine skiing passed?

On this rather gloomy note we started making plans for a bit more road tripping and a bit less skiing. The gloom was emphasized by clouds rolling in and yet more rain. We headed for Slovenia. On the way we stopped for a day at Gastein. I skied at a couple of the areas there. The first, high area at Sportgastein, was pleasant if a bit crowded and limited to one lift. The second area, more comprehensively served from the main town was awful. The slopes were in terrible condition. Very icy with piles of slush that threaten to trip you up. It was Sunday and the place was very crowded as well. To the point where it started to feel a bit dangerous. Too many out of control skiers on a small icy slope. Diane came up to the restaurant at the top of the mountain. I not only met her there but came down on the gondola with her. Normally, I would always ski down but this time it really did not seem like a clever idea. Next morning we took a car-train through the Tauern Railway Tunnel to Mallnitz before heading south-east to Slovenia.

Hungary

Two months of housekeeping chores. Mostly this was sorting out some of the post-Brexit officialdom that has been dumped on us. Being in mainland Europe during the final spasms of Brexit has not only been deeply embarrassing but has also caused us a whole bunch of practical problems. Other jobs on the list included making a few improvements to Baloo and getting Covid vaccinations. This has now all happened but was a bit of a chore and some days ran dangerously close to tedium. Cent is now German. Britain has turned its back on the European pet passport scheme so British dogs cannot sensibly travel abroad any more. In fact, because Cent was out of the UK when the Brexit guillotine fell, he was in serious danger of becoming an illegal immigrant. Happily, he is now a genuinely German, German Shepherd with a passport recognized all around Europe and in the UK as well.

At the end of June, with our chores almost complete, we made a short trip to Bologna to meet up with Franca and Davide. They have a beautiful house in the countryside that they let us use for a few days. They also acted as local guides, giving us a great insight into life in this part of Italy. We stood on the beach at San Marino – but only briefly because it was very hot. We visited a vineyard in the hills and then visited a dog sanctuary run by Lia. Here the dogs could play in the river and cool off properly. Italy is hot in the summer. Cent and I struggled with the heat a bit.

We went to a producer of Balsamico di Modena (in Modena of course) where we saw how vinegar is made and drank some that was 100 years old. Most “Balsamic” is ordinary vinegar with artificial colouring and flavouring. Having tasted the real thing it is obvious why, but still rather sad, that it is copied so frequently.

We ate breakfast Italian style – strong, fresh coffee with sweet pastries. We explored the old city of Bologna and visited a big church on a hill. One evening we went to the most remarkable shop where we tasted many types of wine. Each one was paired with some tasty cheese or other small serving of food. For me, this was the perfect way to spend an evening.

Somehow, during the day or even last thing in the evening, there always seemed to be ice cream. Not just ice cream but intensely creamy and very tasty Italian ice cream. Even I enjoyed it – and I don’t like ice cream.

We needed to get back to Germany for our second covid jabs but we promised to return, possibly when the weather was a little cooler. Coming back over the Swiss Alps we took in a couple of mountain passes, partially to enjoy the views but also to enjoy being cool for a while.

Balsamico di Modena begins life as grapes

Travelling in Austria is difficult and expensive. We tried it twice and vowed never to go there again. However we wanted to go to Budapest to buy some sand ladders so we chose to suck it up, pay the tolls and straight line Austria to get to Hungary. We were looking forward to visiting Hungary.

Hungary has the most remarkable road toll system. Like many people, I am not a fan of road tolls. Modern European road tolls arrived in the 20^th century to fund the development of the motorway network. The Italians started all this in 1924. In the 1950s France, Spain and Portugal began an enormous expansion of motorways based entirely on tolls. These days pretty much every European country has some sort of toll system. We have noted before that entry into Switzerland is usually about making sure that you have paid the toll. Other countries take things a bit further by requiring vehicles, usually the heavier vehicles, to carry tracking devices that are detected by sensors on overhead gantries. This is linked to an account which is debited every time you pass a sensor. The device emits a ding when this happens but in my mind it is more like the “ker-ching” sound of a cash register.

Hungary, we discovered, has now raised the bar even higher if you drive a vehicle over 3.5t, regardless of classification. Each day, you need to visit a special machine which will plan your route for you. Obviously you need to know where you are going first and in some detail. There is no chance of stumbling upon the serendipitously perfect place to end the day. You need to choose from a list of approved destinations. If it is not on the list then you cannot go there. Then you need to enter your vehicle information – weight, dimensions, registration details and so on. With this the great machine constructs your route. It will choose motorways even if this is the long way around or if this by-passes a scenic route. The machine informs you of the cost. The route is printed and you go to the cash desk to pay for it. This involves a microphone to record the conversation, a prepared speech (in Hungarian – I have no idea what was said) a couple of signatures, payment and more speech. The route is valid for 24 hours. You must have a pre-paid route for every trip you do and you cannot deviate from the route.

In practice, what this means in terms of exploring Hungary, is that you can drive around a few motorways. You will pay a lot to explore these two lane, poorly maintained, motorways and at night you get to park in one of the rubbish strewn service stations. I guess pre-booked space at a campsite might be an option but it would need to be pre-booked because if you got there and they were full – you would have to immediately find a machine to make a route and pay the toll to go – to go where? – well, somewhere on the list that you could spend a night, probably a service station.

We entered Hungary having paid €25 for a D2 vehicle ‘sticker’. With the information presented at the official website this appeared to be good for a motorhome for ten days. To be on the safe side I checked with a roadside office when we arrived. They were displaying big signs with the exact same information as the website. All good then? No. No – not at all good. We were escorted several kilometers down the road to the Nemzeti Útdíjfizetési Szolgáltató (National Toll Payment Services) office in Lébény. Here I was introduced to the great machine and told we were not a D2 but a J3. Baloo is officially registered as a motorhome (wohnmobil). This is respected in most of Europe to distinguish it from a commercial vehicle. In the National Toll Payment Services office this distinction was irrelevant. Where did I want to go? Well – we wanted to potter around Hungary for a couple of days absorbing some scenery and culture before ending up in Budapest to buy sand ladders. But where exactly do you want to go? I pointed to the map and we typed a destination into the machine. It described a long route which was almost entirely motorway. And where will you stay? No idea. We usually just rock up somewhere and find a quiet spot. It slowly dawned on me that the only way we could ‘potter’ would be to move between pre-determined service stations so at this point, we bailed. Hungary was clearly impossible. I explained that I just wanted to return the 10km we had come from the border with Austria. Most of this distance was while we were being escorted to the office. Back to the great machine. Create a route back to the border, enter the vehicle details and pay the €10. Do we have to pay for driving to the National Toll Payment Services office? Yes. Any chance of credit on the D2 sticker we were misled in to buying? No. No chance at all.

That was our experience of Hungary. 10km of motorway, seen in both directions, at a cost of €35. Temperature 30°C. Traffic moderate. Scenery non-existent. Most of the time spent in a soulless National Toll Payment Services office poring over a soulless machine getting my money patiently removed by soulless officials. This now makes Hungary our most unwelcoming country in Europe and Austria is relegated to number two.

This was the only photograph I took in Hungary

From Austria we looped south to Italy before returning via Switzerland. Europe is clearly getting back to normal. Housekeeping done, jabs done, truck done – time to get back on the road.

Austria viewed from motorway service areas

Snow in Austria

Austria is a very pretty place. In the snow it looks really fabulous. We learned that Baloo is impeccably behaved in fresh snow – breezing over the Obertauern pass we were the only truck that did not need snow chains. But being truck sized in Austria appears to be a bit of a problem. For a start you need a ‘GoBox’ tracking unit to pay the rather expensive road tolls but the real kicker was all the weight restrictions. We found it really difficult to get anywhere without encountering a restricted road. Eventually we rolled into a town where, from the center, every exit had a weight restriction. Including the road we had come in on. At this point we gave up and took the most direct route out of Austria.

We woke to discover it had been snowing overnight
We found an interesting stairway up a gorge
Cent gets very excited in the snow