#4: Spittal an der Drau, Austria

Refreshed after a good night's sleep at the Bellevue, we hit the road early the next morning. The sky was blue...

And the snow melt was cascading down the mountainside...

But after biking just a few kilometers, we hit a slight obstacle...

This was the proverbial "end of the road" for cyclists...and for everyone else. Apparently the Austrian department of transportation called it a day--for good--when they got to this peak.

So at the teeny-tiny "town" of Bockstein, where the road ends, everyone has to hop in a train.

The train tunnels through the mountain and takes about 20 minutes.

It runs every hour or so, every day of the year, from about 7 am to 11 pm.

In the off-season, it was not a problem just to show up, buy a ticket, and climb on board.

So we loaded our bikes...

And others loaded their cars...
... and all sat back enjoyed the short ride to Mallnitz, Austria, the teeny-tiny "town" on the other side of the tunnel.

From Mallnitz, it was all downhill, for about 10 kilometers on a windy road.

It was tempting to let go of the brakes and fly down. But, after catapulting over my bike handlebars and shattering my collarbone a few years back, I "gave pause."

Then Markus pointed out a "Danger" road sign that had an icon of a cyclist hitting a bump in the road and crashing to the pavement. 😓  So, like the two older-but-wiser goats we are, we proceeded down the slope with caution, rather than abandon.

After the long downhill, the cycling route follows the Drau river, more or less--but mostly less. This section of the route is poorly signed, and often the signage didn't match our cycling map.

The route zigzags into farmland, returns to the river, follows a highway, goes up into foothills...as if it had been charted by someone doing shots of schnapps. We took some wrong turns and had to backtrack several times. After that, to prevent going in circles, we had to stop at almost every juncture, scratch our heads, and deliberate. Right? Left? Straight?

It was exhausting and time-consuming. Thank goodness for GPS. Not ours, but that of two other German cyclists in bright blue jerseys who were uber-prepared for their trip. Every once in awhile we'd spot them further ahead on the road and simply take the same route.

So by hook and by crook, and by piggy-backing off those bright blue jerseys, we finally arrived at Spitall an der Drau.

Spitall is not a pretty town. Kind of run down and rough. But we were tired, a thunderstorm was brewing, and most everything was closed due to a national holiday (the Ascension of Christ).

So we decided to find a place to stay. The best we could do was "Hotel Ertl", which has as much grace and charm as its name. It was dark and dated and overpriced, and located right next to the train station. It had a weird combo theme of Austrian country inn and Mexican cantina.

We're used to small hotel rooms in Europe, but this one was a claustrophobic's nightmare. It must have been designed by the maker of Satellite portable toilets.

It began raining heavily and we were trapped inside, literally breathing down each others' necks. We laid on the beds anxious, tired, and wide awake, in painful reminiscence of our large, luxurious room at the Bellevue Hotel in Bad Gastein the night before--which had cost about the same amount!

"You're riding high in April
 Shot down in May"

That's travel! 

# 3: Bad Gastein, Austria

After breakfast, Markus picked up a hazelnut-filled pastry from the konditorei, stuffed it in the panniers, and off we went on our second day of cycling on the Alpe-Adria.

Another beautiful day of cycling. Sometimes, we had to open gated areas to share the trail with livestock, swerving around manure and making sure to close the gates on the way out!

After about 80 km, we approached the town of Bad Gastein. The approach to town was steep! I'm walking my bike to prevent hernia and/or cardiac arrest.

There's a spectacular waterfall that pummels down the mountainside right through the center of the town.

Bad Gastein is an old spa town--where those suffering from extremely noxious bouts of flatulence  come to sample the healing waters, in hopes of finding a cure.

OK, couldn't resist the juvenile fart joke. But the healing waters part is true. And the whole truth is even weirder. In the 19th century, the town's thermal spring water was discovered by Marie Curie to contain radon. Since that time, people with autoimmune disorders, arthritis, etc have been coming to Bad Gastein for "radon inhalation therapy".  (A bit controversial... radon being a potent carcinogen, after all.)

Anyway, the town has been a resort destination for centuries--frequented by Mozart, Schubert, Somerset Maugham, the Shah of Iran, among others.

Many of its grand hotels were built in the 20s and 30s, in what's called the French "Belle Epoch" ("good times") style. The hotel we stayed at, the Bellevue, was an example of this. It was huge, and pretty much empty (only about 100 euros a night in off-season--for a suite with 2 bedrooms and 1 1/2 bathrooms). The hotel had a bowling alley and thermal pool--but few using them. Its vast, deserted grandeur made us feel like we were in the movie "Grand Budapest Hotel".

Markus took this shot of the Grand Hotel/Casino of Europe, another belle epoch hotel, from one side our hotel room balcony.

 This was the view from our balcony in the other direction:

 

In hindsight, we wished we would have stayed another day in Bad Gastein. But at that point, most of the road was still ahead of us.

#2: Golling, Austria

From Salzburg we pedaled to Golling an der Salzach. It was about 40 km of easy cycling along the river, which was a good thing, since I was feeling wiped out by pollen allergies and the start of a head cold.

Golling is a typical Austrian mountain town--nothing glamorous--but still quaint and picturesque. As soon as we got into town we stopped at the local tourist info office to ask about accommodations. One thing that made this trip so relaxing was cycling in the off-season. There were almost no other cyclists on the radweg (or any other tourists), so we didn't need to reserve rooms in advance. We could stop and crash wherever and whenever we felt like it.

We found a room for 85 euros (including breakfast) on the main drag of town, on the third floor above an ice cream/patisserie shop ("konditorei"). The family who owned the shop lived on the second floor and let us store our bikes inside in the old section of the restaurant.

After unpacking, I collapsed on the bed, and told Markus I only had enough energy to down a beer and some food. While I nursed my sniffles, Markus went out to the local apotheke (pharmacy) to find cold/allergy medicines.

Austria, like Germany, is a great place to get sick. All the pharmacies have an extensive selection natural remedies and well-trained specialists who know everything about them. So, after answering a zillion detailed questions about the specific nature of my symptoms, he came back with the goods.

Note the company name on the back of the medication--Klosterfrau ("Cloister woman"). The company was founded in 1826 by a German nun, Sister Maria Clementine Martin. Her original flagship product was a nerve tonic, which she refined by distilling 12 medicinal plants, including lemon balm, gentian, cardamom, cinnamon and ginger, in a solution of 70% alcohol. (Being in a cloister didn't prevent you from getting your nips in, apparently.)

According to the company web site,  the tonic helps to "improve general well-being (strengthening or fortifying) where nervous and circulatory stress causes inner disquiet and nervousness. To combat insomnia. For weather sensitivity. To improve well-being when unwell, to stimulate gastrointestinal function, particularly where there is a tendency to feel full or bloated. As a mild medicine to improve well-being in uncomplicated colds and for general strengthening."

You can even rub it on your skin "to support blood circulation in the skin, e.g. for sore and tense muscles"!

It's been around for almost 200 years--and many Germans still swear by this tonic today. (Although at 70 proof, best to mix it with water, as many do!😉)

#1: The Start of the Alpe-Adria Radweg: Salzburg

After years of wanting to bike this great cycling route from the Austrian Alps to the Adriatic Sea of Italy, the goddess Fortuna finally interceded on our behalf and provided the opportunity.

In Spring of 2018 Markus and I stuffed our partially dismantled touring bikes into the back of his mom's tiny, rattly old Hyundai and headed on the autobahn to Salzburg, Austria, where the radweg starts. (Radweg ("rahd-veyg") means "cycling way" in German.)

Driving the autobahn in a wheezy old tin can was the first harrowing part of our adventure. Sleek, quiet new Mercedes, Audis, and BMWs would zoom suddenly into view in our rear view mirror, like flying saucers out of nowhere. They were going about 160+ km/hr. Flooring it, we were lucky to hit 80 in the Getz, our faces vibrating as if we were jackhammering concrete.

Nonetheless, we arrived safely at the Salzburg airport a few hours later, parked in long-term parking, put the bikes together, loaded them down with our panniers, took a deep breath (and a long pee) and started on our journey!

Luckily, as at many European airports, there's a designated cycling path directly from the airport into the city center. To get to the start of the cycling path at the Salzach River, we relied on a classic, tried-and-true GPS, one which requires no batteries, no satellite signal, and no monthly fee. We simply asked random passersby: "How do you get to the river?"

It was a beautiful sunny Tuesday afternoon in Salzburg, and it seemed like everyone in the city was walking, cycling, or lazing along the banks of the Salzach!

We soon found the cycling trail and off we went, heading south down the Alpine river valley.