We walked up the platform for the short trip to Mount Hohenpeissenberg and said hullo to a train-waiting man. He appeared to have seen better days by his clothes, his demeanour and his voice, all of which seemed a little frayed. I walked on trying to warm my frozen hands. As I walked back, a more less frayed (younger in his forties) man walked by with his dog. He spoke a little English but we got stuck on the breed. The other man unexpectedly, and on observation, told me of Ghandi’s mixed breed, a calm and gentle dog as his name would also imply. Ghandi’s dad was impressed. While I enjoyed the charades I was getting cold and looked back to see Corrie enjoying herself with these three diverse men.

The single line train arrived but no-one got on, but our chance came when it returned twenty minutes later. Ghandi was the star of the show as he tripped up those who walked down the aisle talking to him in dog talk. We arrived at our destination and hurried towards a younger woman who was getting into her car, asking her where this one thousand metre mountain was. It would have been obvious on another day but the fog was trying to deter us from our mission. Ingrid, a lovely person, did better than that and drove us to the base.

You might ask why these short rides? The answer, the mountain looked steep and we were going to walk back home, so by that time we would be well over twenty kms anyway. A beautiful climb and with Autumn well into its leaf shedding with some stern wind, the colours on the cornering pathway were numerous, with some leaves managing to hang on in preference of a different hue. I love corners, as did our trail, which had taken every opportunity to make a turn, so the diversion of my attention meant it was a much easier than expected climb. 

While the fog didn’t bother us, missing out on seeing the Alps again (we first crossed them after our walk across Switzerland in 2017) was disappointing, but we will see them and may even spend a day walking in them. What we did see though were some beautiful paintings on the ceilings of the pilgrimage Church of the Assumption, where so many pilgrims visit on their way to Spain’s compostella.

On our way down we met two couples a decade younger than us (you must wonder how I know these things), who commented on my ‘hullo’ greeting after he greeted me first with the English ‘hello’. Not to be fooled he asked me if I was American (proof that he was a little fooled). In response it was the first time in a long time I could proudly say I was Australian. He then added (very much informed) that it was not a good time to be an Aussie as there is a bad influenza outbreak in your country so why not stay here for a while longer. He was very happy when I told him we were. But it won’t be for as long as this mountain’s weather station which is said to be the oldest in the world with meteorological observations dating back to 1781, I wonder how the climate was back then?