The water is freezing against my body, as I count down from 10. I’m kicking hard while holding my breath, as the chill of the water tingles my skin. 9, 8, 7, 6… I glide through its impenetrable gloom… almost there… 3, 2, 1… then break back through the thin film of the water’s surface, startling two ducks into flight. Head above water I fill my lungs with crisp alpine air that’s so cold it almost burns. Rolling onto my back I take in the surrounding lush green fields, with their backdrop of snow-capped peaks.
What a way to start my exploration of Austria’s Tirolean high summer pastures!
Little do I suspect that a few hours later in the midday heat, I’m going to be longing for the cold, refreshing waters of the Hotel Linserhof swimming lake, just south of Innsbruck, as I grind up a never-ending series of switchback hairpins on a full-suspension mountain bike, battling with all my will to force my pedals around one revolution at a time.
After breakfast, still blissfully unaware of what lies ahead, I’m joined by a small group of two Poles, a Frenchman, a Dutchman, a Russian and a Belgian woman, who is a serious cross-alpine off-road racer. Like some kind of international journalistic dirty half-dozen, our mission is going to be to ride the Tirol’s newest mountain bike tour concept.
The Tirolean Mountain Bike Safari is an inspired idea, which links numerous high alpine trails and valley paths into a 15-day mountain bike adventure through a stunning mountain landscape. If I’m honest, what really appeals to me about the route is that most of the serious climbs can be achieved with a little (well, often a lot!)
of help from the chair lifts and gondolas – uplifts that were primarily built for use during the winter months to whisk skiers and snowboarders to the top of the region’s ski resorts.
Our guide for a short three-day taster trip of the route is German who, luckily for me, is leading the tour in English. Having a guide is certainly a bonus, but in theory you don’t really need one on this tour given that its GPX coordinates are available online for self-guiding. In fact, without a guide I’d go as far as saying that a handle bar-mounted GPS is essential to really enjoy these rides, otherwise you’d have to stop every 5 minutes to get a map out due to the nature of the route.
After mounting up in the hotel car park, we soon set off on tarmac then join a forest trail which runs downhill beside a wooden fence, behind which huge cows graze – looking very much like they need milking. We all enjoy this flowing path, some even taking small airs off tree stumps as our speeding line of riders snakes down the mountain.
Just as I’m warming up, we stop at our first uplift – the Imster Bergbahnen chair – which just happens to be at the bottom of one of Europe’s longest fixed sledge runs, so it would be rude not to take the opportunity! The poster at the bottom shows images of smiling children zipping down the run, and as I look around at the grins in my group, it’s pretty obvious that we are all just big kids. So after unloading our bikes from the chairlift, we are all soon flying downhill on a series of hairpin bends, trying our hardest not to use the brakes, before once again riding the chair lift back up.
Back on our bikes, I’m expecting to set off on an exhilarating downhill, but we actually head uphill from the top of the chair lift, before traversing the mountainside, flanked by dense pine trees on a wide but very rough forestry road. I soon realise that I’m going to be near the back of the group, but don’t care, as my GPS is telling me which way to turn whenever the path splits, soon letting me know when I’ve gone the wrong way – fortunately with an arrow, and not an annoying voice!
Before too long we have the choice of some downhill single-track mountain bike routes, complete with man-made features of wooden jumps and dirt banked turns, or an easier way down. After an initial nervous dabble with the more technical so-called ‘North Shore’ style single-track route, I quickly change tack and pop back onto what in winter would be a blue ski piste, and simply enjoy the feeling of swooping down the mountainside without having too many obstacles to worry about.
Once at the alpine valley floor, close to Starkenbergersee Lake, we ride a sealed dual use hiking/biking trail alongside a small river, which winds its way gently down towards the Inns River at the valley floor proper.
Now this is where the small print I should have read comes into play, and, as is often the case when reading route descriptions, the devil is most definitely in the detail. I’d failed to notice that the day’s ride – which is actually stage/day 4 of the entire route – including the longest, hardest and only huge pedalled ascent of the entire 15-days.
The only way is up
Even now I miss an opportunity to see sense, as our guide offers us two routes from the village of Nassereith: one around the huge mountain in front of us, or another which heads straight over the top. Sense was never an attribute I was blessed with – so off I set in everyone’s wake, onwards and upwards.
Half an hour into what is a steep and steady climb on a very good sealed road, the asphalt suddenly stops and a very rough stony trail begins. On my own by now, looking to my left I see a wonderfully placed restaurant and deem it too good a chance to miss.
It’s a no-brainer really, and I head for its terrace, only to find the rest of my group already perusing menus.
Refuelling over, I ride the next hour climbing through gorgeous wild flower meadows, always on a constant upwards trajectory, stopping only when my front wheel jams against a stone too large for me to ride over at my slow pace.
Eventually, I make the Marienbergjoch Col and all the suffering and self-doubt of the climb evaporates as a stunning view across numerous snow-capped valleys is revealed. Sitting on the grass, among wild flowers, I look down towards the small ski village of Leermoos, which sits close to the German border over 1,000 vertical metres below me, and then beyond to the northeast and the snow-capped spiky peak of Mount Zugspitze (at 2,962m, Germany’s highest peak), as well as the hysterically named Mount Wank. The tough climb behind me, I now feel great. Taking a deep drag of water from my bottle, I’m not even stressed about not keeping up with the guide and the rest of the group, because, again, my GPS knows exactly where my hotel for the night is and how to get me there.
What goes up…
Now it’s time to reap the rewards of all that climbing, as with one finger hovering over each brake, I speed down 1,200 metres of vertical, startling grazing cattle and myself by quite how fast I’m travelling! In what seems no time at all I’m back on tarmac, before finally dismounting at the Sporthotel in the village of Lermoos.
There are numerous hotel options to suit all budgets across the whole region, and while stopping in the suggested overnight villages and towns is recommended, it’s not obligatory; detours to budget or 5 star hotels/hostels are definitely possible, as is taking the same up-lift twice and tackling one more of the many single-track MTB specific downhill trails.
The next morning I wake up a little sore from the day before, and as I stuff myself with yet another huge breakfast from the buffet, I wish someone would ask how my legs are, so I can have a moan. No one does, so I keep my aches to myself – until my bum touches the saddle of my bike for the first time that day, when I let out a stifled squeal.
A short pedal leads us to the Ehrwalder Almbahn Gondola, where we cram ourselves and our bikes into the pods, two by two, and travel up and over the forest, which is surprisingly busy with wildlife. In winter, the snow covers up all the streams, and most of the animals either hibernate or fly south. But in summer the mountain streams rush downhill noisy with life, and the squirrels, rabbits and birds dart among the trees.
After a steady and enjoyable climb from the top of the gondola the highlight of day stretches out before us – a 20km descent from 1,590m along a well-constructed but unsealed road, which winds its way alongside a small river through the steep-sided Gaistal Valley.
Riding day-in-day out is a great confidence builder, and on this second day in the saddle I let the bike smooth out the bumps and undulations, finally enjoying the fact that bikes like this are capable of so much more than you think, if only you have the confidence to relax, look up and give them their head.
As the mountain air rushes past, the speed and cushioning feels like floating, and I get a fleeting childhood flashback to the elation and independence of a first downhill bike descent with the stabilisers off…
We eventually pop out by a local trout farm, where we stop for lunch. Delicious apple strudel follows fresh fish, with the only downer being the fast-changing weather now beating fiercely at the windows. With a post-lunch lethargy, and not really wanting to prolong our ride in the pouring rain, we decide to stick to the roads – ignoring the bleeping GPS which insists we’re going the wrong way – and head straight to the luxurious Hotel Inntalerhof at Seefeld in Tirol.
When we get there it turns out our guide has phoned ahead and we’re greeted by warm towels and steaming hot chocolate. Perhaps there are advantages to having a guide after all.
Last day blues, and pinks
Waking up in our third hotel in as many days, the morning routine is now fully established as we all enjoy another copious breakfast of cut meats, cheese, fruit and strong coffee, resplendent in our mountain bike baggies.
At 63km our final day’s ride to the charming village of Fulpmes will be one of the route’s longest, which despite having a not insignificant 1,170m of height to gain in the saddle, this time it is spread out into many climbs throughout the day.
We spend the morning on mostly back roads, riding through rolling farmland and delightful alpine villages. There’s a mix of traditional wooden barns raised off the ground by large stone ‘mushrooms’, along with areas of more contemporary housing, where kids let off steam in noisy school yards as we pedal past.
After several hours we arrive at our last uplift, the Muttereralmbahn Gondola, which takes us up to the head of a beautiful trail that flows through sweet pine-scented woodland, before an exhilaratingly steep, sweeping descent into the Stubai Valley.
The day’s riding done, we’re sitting outside a large pink hotel on the side of which a mural depicts a little farmer boy in lederhosen driving his cows towards a barn. In front of me is a ridiculously large glass of beer, while across the terrace a guy from the bike hire shop jet washes my mud-splattered bike.
“This is the life,” I think to myself: action-packed days carving glorious mountain single-track, followed by beer, banter and carb-heavy dinners in a different hotel every night. The only thing that feels wrong is that I have to go home now, when there’s another 12 full days of this incredible mountain biking adventure still to enjoy.
