We are still in Hallstatt. We've had 3 bluebird autumn days. Yesterdy Erin and I went for hike above the town's salt mine and got a great view of the Hallstatter Glacier from a distance. Erin decided she would relax today which probably had more merit than what I did (given how much we've already moved around) but I can't help myself -- if there are mountains to walk in I must walk. Plus I woke up this morning with my boots and camelback on so I had no choice. The trail I hked today was grueling. I think it ascended almost 2000 meters. It meandered through pine forests carpeted with a velvet of bright green moss and then switchbacked above treeline where a crazy tumult of granite rock surged upwards, coelescing into a cirque of 7 jagged, glaciated peaks. I just got back and I'm pooped but I wanted to relate a story about today before I forget. I noticed that Erin did a really good blog today, before I did, so if you're following this, make sure to read hers.
Today my goal was to reach the hut at the foot of Halstatter glacier. After getting above treeline, I heard a voice coming from amoung the boulders and bushes -- someone saying hello in German. Then I saw a head rise above the bushes; it was a man about 40 but it was hard to tell because he had a haggard beard and a weatherworn face. I said hello and then he asked me a question in German. I said I didn't speak German and he said, in a very calm voice, "then I will talk to you in English." He asked if I was going to the hut and coming back the same way. I said yes. He said: "Well if it's not too much trouble could you buy me a couple of beers:" I said ok and he gave me 10 euros and I was off. I got to the hut, which was literally 25 minutes from where I came across the bearded man, and sat down to eat and stare at the glacier. (The glacier has lost 40 % of its mass since the early 1900s, 20% in the last 20 years.) 20 minutes later two more hikers sat down beside me and one of them asked: "Are you the one the guy down below asked to buy him a beer?" I said yes, and the guy replied: "Well he wanted me to let you know that he wants Stiegl and not the other kind of beer." I said ok and went into the hut and bought 2 beers (the only items they sold were beers and sausage -- it goes without saying that the Austrians still like their sausage and salami and beer), put my headphones on, and started walking back down. The bearded guy was still sitting in the same spot. I gave him the 2 beers and his change and he said: "Will you join me?" Not one to turn down a free beer, I said yes and we opened the beers and began to talk. I asked him where he'd come from and he said "right here. I've been here for 2 days." There was nothing there but boulders and bush and his stuff strewn about (though the view was breathtaking). He was carrying only a small knapsack. I then asked him how long he'd been trekking. He said all summer. I asked him where he was going; he said nowhere. Then, noticing my ipod, he asked me what I was listening to and I told him My Morning Jacket. He asked if he could listen. I said yes and gave him the headphones. He told me to play one of my favorite songs so I played 'I Needed It More.' When the song started he laid on his back and closed his eyes. He didn't open them again until the song finished. He took off the headphones and said: "Great song." Then after a pause he said, "I don't what that man was trying to say but I sensed yearning." I sensed that the bearded man had spent the better part of the summer and autumn exploring the deep, dark, murky pools of his consciousness (or, alternatively, letting the light flood in). Whatever he was doing or whoever he was, I felt a strong kinship. We talked a little more, I finished my beer, and I got up to go. As I strapped on my cameback I said I think its time for me to go. He said: "There's no need to go anywhere." Then, after a pause, he held his arms outstretched, palms upward, and said: "Everything is right here." I told him I found it hard to disagree and walked away. What I didn't tell him was that I only agreed with him on the super-duper spiritual level. I couldn't agree with him on any other level -- Erin and my sleeping bag were down in the valley below.
Above the village of Hallstatt, deep in the bowels of the mountains, are salt mines some 6 or 7 centuries old. They are still in operation today. They do tours of the mines. You have to put on some crazy getup and get on some kind of train that takes you into the mountain. The tour is expensive. Erin and I didn't do it. Nichols will be pissed at me.
It's been a shock coming from Armenia to Austria. Transportation, orderliness, and cleanliness in the two countries are on opposite sides of the spectrum. The trains schedules here are perfectly in synch with the buses and both the buses and trains are perfectly in synch with the ferries. The buses and trains are spic-and-span clean -- they sparkle. And I bet you could lick the floor of the bus and not only not get sick but taste sweet snozberries.
Tomorrow we leave Hallstatt for Salzburg for a night. Then the next day we take the train to Munich, get on a plane to London, layover there for a few hours, then board a plane for Dehli, layover there for 2 hours, then on to Kathmandu.
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