Hip-hop is blaring from the speakers as Kathi rolls into the car park in her van. As she gets out, she braids her hair one last time. Then, thirsty for action, she pulls her bike out of the sliding door and grabs her rucksack.
The thing is tiny. With a capacity of twelve litres, the rucksack belongs more to the category of compact daypacks. Andrea raises her eyebrows questioningly. "You've got everything in there?" The pair want to spend three days traversing the Wetterstein massif on challenging trails. Kathi triumphantly pulls out her first aid kit, pump, inner tube and a change of clothes. Half of a dark brown banana peeks out of the side pocket - they're ready to go. At least almost. Kathi stands over her rucksack in a wrestling pose and squeezes it into shape with her knee. The zip squeezes creakily over the rails. She soon realises that the alpine mountain world will push the competition-tested freerider to her limits, despite her excellent riding technique.
The Wetterstein mountain range culminates in Germany's highest mountain, the 2,962 metre-high Zugspitze. No other place in Germany has more rock, steep walls and gigantic views to offer. The tour that Andrea has put together connects some of the most scenic corners of the massif, which stretches between Garmisch-Partenkirchen and the Tyrolean towns of Ehrwald and Leutasch. If you ask traditional hiking portals about the route, they spit out warnings such as "Surefootedness and a head for heights required" or "Caution: alpine terrain!". For the two girls, this means a lot of metres in altitude, at least uphill. And downhill? "The trails are all rideable, but quite technical," surmises Andrea, who describes herself as a bike mountaineer and therefore sees this terrain as her calling. Taking the bike to places where some casual hikers get weak knees. Andrea's tours are about as far removed from certified flow trails as punk rock is from classical music. She hasn't ridden most of the route yet. Discovering new territory, that's what it's all about.
The next morning: drizzle dampens the terrace of the Meiler hut, which sits at 2366 metres above sea level on the border ridge between Bavaria and Tyrol. "Where's the sunshine I ordered?" asks Andrea, adjusting her helmet. Her mood is not about to change. Wisps of cloud swirl around the limestone towers that rise to the right and left of the hut. It is cold. With squeaking brakes, the two friends feel their way along the tracks into the depths of the gravel track, which descends southwards right next to the hut. A crowd of hikers and mountaineers gathers on the terrace to marvel at this unusual endeavour. Bikers are rarely seen up here. For good reason. Loose gravel of varying sizes makes the first few metres a dance on raw eggs. The steep step, which the two from the hut had identified as the key section, forces them to make a short carry.
"Where's Danny MacAskill when you need him?" jokes Kathi as she pushes over a steep rocky passage. It's dripping, a shallow film of moisture lies on the rock. The sound of rolling gravel echoes off the steep rock faces into the fresh morning air. Kathi and Andrea are in their element, circling round hairpin bends and rolling over stone slabs - but only for a short time. The climb soon becomes nastier, with stones ranging from pineapple to watermelon on the ground. They lie close together like fruit in a market stall.
"Where's the flow?" Kathi grumbles. More and more often, the trail forces her off her bike. Normally, the 26-year-old competition freerider jumps over groomed six-metre doubles or fearlessly drops into the depths. In jeans, of course. She wants to be the first woman ever to take part in the FMB World Tour, the world's largest freeride series. But the Wetterstein is different: unstable gravel, tight hairpin bends, exposed curves. That takes strength and concentration. Even Andrea, who is out and about in this kind of terrain several times a week, is now more off than on her bike. There is no improvement in sight. "A real bastard," she exclaims. Meaning the climb. The steps get higher and higher, the ground looser. Kathi drops her bike and demonstrates in broad Bavarian: "The flow has a hole. A big one!" Her cheekbones protrude with anger. If the sound of the mountain stream didn't fill the air, you would probably hear a grinding of teeth. "Emergency meeting!" Kathi demands. The previous day's efforts, which culminated in two hours of bike-carrying, run out of steam.
Kathi's mind's eye. And this is supposed to be the reward? 500 metres in altitude still separate the two of them from the valley floor. A curious perspective - because normally, the more metres of trail that lie ahead, the bigger the grin on the girls' faces.
After a good three and a half hours, they finally reach the next supermarket in the valley. They urgently need to top up their energy stores. Instead of releasing endorphins, the descent has primarily burnt nutrients. It's lunchtime, their legs are burning and all of the day's metres in altitude are still to come. "That's the way it is," says Andrea, "It's like an expedition: sometimes you get it right and sometimes it goes wrong." Grinning, she pushes the last piece of quark ash between her teeth. Every tour an adventure? Kathi doesn't think much of it. Carrying? Okay. But only if the reward is trail fun. She lured Andrea to the Wetterstein with tales of epic descents. So far, there's no sign of it. At least Kathi has now refined the knee-backpack wrestling technique to such an extent that the bulging pack is closed in no time. The journey continues.
The next morning, they both agree again: nothing beats an exhilarating trail descent for breakfast. After a few technical passages, the lower section of the trail finally winds its way through a fairytale forest. In a good mood, they set off on the last climb of the tour. And again the same pattern: two hours of pedalling are followed by pushing. Or rather: carrying - because the narrow path does not tolerate bikes and bikers next to each other. But even that is not so easy. The mountain pines are constantly trying to pull the bike off your shoulders. Over 13 kilos weigh down on your back and shoulders. My neck aches with tension. Kathi clings to the fork bar and pedals of her shouldered bike to win the battle against the bushes. The pins of the platform pedals bite into the flesh through the gloves. The monotonous sound of their trouser legs rubbing against each other fills the air like a mantra. The gravel crunches and a steady panting completes the triad. Kathi herself is unaware of this. Two white cables snake out of her collar up to her ears. Bass booms out of the headphones. Kendrick Lamar is playing: "Bitch, don't kill my vibe." A clear improvement on the previous day, when all she could do was whip the sounds of Caotico's "Fuck my brains out" to the hut. She always listens to that when she's angry. Today, she confidently wipes the sweat from her temples. Her wide studded belt gleams in the blazing midday sun. A little freerider statement.
Wild moments like these tickle Andrea's fancy. She has found herself in the mountains, says the 42-year-old PR expert, who describes herself as a 100 per cent type. That used to mean: 100 per cent workaholic with 70 working hours a week. Today, she is drawn to adventure as often as she can - and the Munich resident is looking for it right on her doorstep. "I always find it amazing what wonderful places you can get to on a bike if you just push yourself a little," Andrea enthuses at the end of the route. Wellness for the soul, free of charge. But not for everyone.
The Gatterl also belongs to the "wonderful places" category. This rocky gateway to the stony grey wasteland of the Zugspitz plateau is popular with hikers and mountaineers. Cyclists only stray here in exceptional cases. Andrea and Kathi are all the more surprised when they surf the last few metres towards the Gatterl on a fantastic flow trail. The line through the mighty cirque is as wide as a towel, with meadows and gravel marbling the mighty mountain flanks to the right and left to create a natural work of art.
"That's the reason why I carry my bike up the mountain everywhere: because you can see such cool things," Andrea gushes. For almost exactly three minutes, a broad grin spreads across her face. Then the flow of the journey comes to an end. The gate is in sight. The rock tower rises steeply and stonily into the sky, with a safety cable marking the line. The message seems clear: bikers have no business here!
"I'm supposed to cycle up there?" asks Kathi, bewildered. A short time later, she stands relieved next to the border sign indicating the crossing from Tyrol to Bavaria. That took some nerve. The view of the traverse to the Knorrhütte interim destination makes it clear: the previous three minutes of flow will not be repeated in the next hour. The rocks that line the barren plateau below the Zugspitze are not the size of melons or pineapples, but rather the size of refrigerators. Only occasionally is their arrangement so favourable that Andrea and Kathi can cover a few metres in the saddle. As if the bike-mountaineering god was trying to entice them, the last 200 metres to the hut turn out to be the finest flow trail. Unfortunately, it's uphill - and so the lactate kicks into the girls' legs once again. No matter: from here it's all downhill.
Between all the mountaineers and hikers on the terrace of the Knorrhütte, the two girls in their colourful outfits seem as out of place as an elephant in a pack of wolves. The looks vary between astonishment, interest and incomprehension. Few people think it's a good idea for the two of them to head straight back to Garmisch-Partenkirchen on their bikes through the Reintal valley.
Not even 100 metres lower down, Kathi's uncertainty gives way to sad certainty: it really isn't a good idea! After seven hours on the trail, a third of which with her bike on her back, her strength is at an end. The "trail" only deserves this description with rose-coloured extreme bike mountaineering glasses. It is bumpy, blocked, steep and narrow. Nothing works here without freshness in your legs, arms and brain. The hope of a rewarding flow is gone. Andrea battles loose scree, steps and gravity at walking pace - a real test piece in the style of a bike mountaineer. She grins. The sensations of riding a trail couldn't be more different. Kathi doesn't call for a crisis meeting, it doesn't help anyway.
"A real test of friendship," she mumbles and wants to go straight home to the couch. The good thing about it - even if she doesn't want to know about it right now - is that you don't forget the tours that you wouldn't do a second time for the rest of your life. Real adventures, after all.
INFO WEATHERSTONE TOUR
The route
The tour described here does not follow any preconceived tour suggestions or classic bike routes. The attraction of the tour was to venture into unknown terrain. Some sections turned out to be less rewarding in terms of biking technique. Even the most experienced riders have to be prepared for long downhill stretches. Uphill, around 50 per cent of the climbs have to be tackled on foot. We have therefore deliberately refrained from giving detailed directions.
BIKE mountaineering
Where paths become too narrow and steep to pedal uphill, bike mountaineering begins: carry yourself up the mountain to test the downhill path for rideability. Steep, rocky climbs and tight hairpin bends demand perfect riding technique and a high level of risk awareness.
The legal situation
In Austria, mountain biking is officially only permitted on trails explicitly signposted as mountain bike routes. On the Tyrolean side, some sections of the tour described are not on designated bike routes.
Code of Conduct
The Wetterstein mountains are an extremely popular destination for hikers and mountaineers. It can be correspondingly crowded on nice weekends. For bikers, this means: take extra care and always follow the DIMB trail rules. Avoid peak times on classic hiking routes and plan your tours accordingly.
