On the road...: Kepler Track

We're back! Our brief intermission has doubtless enabled our good readers to catch up on those things left undone whilst the blog was fully thundering ... watching Neighbours, shuffling the recycling bins around to achieve the most efficient 'putting out' procedure, aimlessly Googling, looking out the window and deciding whether to crack a joke about the weather being Fifty Shades of Grey next time you're out in polite society, measuring out your life in empty wine bottles (no prizes for guessing who's written the intro. I'll stick to my italics. Ed.)

But now that normal service has been resumed it's time to put away those childish things and come home to the Mother Ship ... your Intrepid Pensioners' Blog.

The Mountain Hut

If there is a place for another Circle of Hell in Dante's Inferno, it is The Mountain Hut. Youth Hostels form a subset of this Circle, but at least you usually have a choice of alternative accommodation. In the mountains, there is Nowhere Else To Stay. From this Circle are exempted the Bonatti Hut and the St Bernard Hospice, both of which are glorious examples of how to make staying in the mountains a happy experience. Not so the rest. Let me count the ways. Sleep in a room full of strangers; noxious and toxic fumes; people getting up and down to go to the toilet ALL NIGHT; people rustling plastic carrier bags at 3 in the morning (WHY?); stage whispers, again at 3 am; the glare of head torches in your eyes; queuing for what's laughingly called The Toilet; and the perennial question: "Why don't my earplugs work?"

It was interesting that the best-behaved hutters were the young travellers and the worst, by far, the elderly groups (this did not include us, elderly though we might be...) who occupied all the best bunks, made the loudest breakfasts and dinners and were generally inconsiderate. They had no intention of 'going quietly into the night' and rustled, rustled against the coming of the light. They did appear to be rather expert and obsessive packers and rustlers, however, packing and unpacking, rustling and shuffling, all in semi-darkness, driven by instinct when everyone else was trying to gain a desparate last half hour of sleep ... The Raucous Wrinklies were, perhaps, louder than they might have realised due to encroaching deafness (although that, perhaps, is the charitable side of my nature gaining the upper hand ...)...

What about the trek?

Water taxi

We missed out the first flattish part of Day 1 by taking a water taxi across to Brod Bay and from there the track climbed gradually up through the bush ...

We were fortunate with the weather and enjoyed excellent views throughout, unlike our young chums A&A who did the walk a few weeks ago and had to endure atrocious weather and no views... After the water taxi it was a slog up to the first hut, the Luxmore, nestled just beneath the summit of Mount Luxmore. It was a straightforward ascent, a bit dull if truth be told, and a bit of a slog given that we were also carrying provisions for four days. The hut itself was reasonably well-appointed (but see comments above from myself and the Editor!) and fairly spacious ... The kitchen area may be seen below:

Luxmore kitchen

Some views from the hut ...

The second day was by far the best ... A few ascents followed by an undulating grassy ridge walk all gave magnificent views (sorry A&A!) ... (although, it has to be said, the walking had none of the drama of many Scottish ridge walks - everything was made a bit too safe ... Precipitous drops had hand rails, steepish ascents and descents more often than not had steps!!)

The above is a pic from Day 3, all of which was spent walking through beech forest. We had planned a Day 4, i.e. another overnight stay. To avoid another Circle of Hell experience, we decided to walk both days together, a mere 22.5 kilometres. There was a slight complication in that our end-of-the-track shuttle bus was booked for Day 4 and we weren't sure if they'd have seats for us a day earlier, but it was worth the risk. However it meant that we had to get there by 3pm; we rushed; they let us on the bus, and it's the first time in my life that I've ever been a day early for something.