Obstanserseehütte -> Sillianer Hütte – An Angel in form of a Trailrunner

14. September 2025

 

 

8,8 km

585 m up

435 m down

3:50 hrs.

 

That didn’t sound like all that much, so I took my time in the morning. It was still overcast and didn’t look as great as I had hoped. First, a little more picture-taking at the lake, while the others were already setting off:

 

 

 

 

Then I set off, but only made slow progress. At the hut, I could have bought Wi-Fi for 2 euros = 2 hours, which I didn’t want. And when I finally had reception, I first had to catch up on communication. Besides, I still found it all beautiful to look at. The clouds were shifting and gradually retreating, so the view kept changing, and I couldn’t help but marvel—and take more pictures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today I actually walked directly along—and on—the Italian-Austrian border. This was the site of border disputes between Venetia and Tyrol about 250 years ago, and of heavy fighting between Austria-Hungary and Italy during World War I. From that first war, all the old border stones remain (though the current ones somehow looked newer), and from the second, there are still defensive positions. In World War I, Prince Heinrich of Bavaria came to support the Austro-Hungarians and performed heroic deeds—only to die soon afterward in Romania during the fighting there. And walking around here now, it feels strange to imagine how they once sat in these very places, shooting at each other.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The path ran along and on the ridge, with a bit of up and down. I met rather few people, most of them coming towards me. Here are some more pictures – you can see that it kept clearing bit by bit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had been handling my fear of heights quite well, in fact I hardly felt any. But then I came to a rather steep, rocky mountain that had to be half-circled on narrow paths with a bit of scrambling (without ropes) – and there was one spot where I simply couldn’t go on. Fear shot straight into my stomach. There were no solid rocks to hold on to, the footholds felt precarious, and the drop below was very steep, going down for countless meters. It wasn’t very late yet, but it seemed unlikely that anyone else would come by. Turning back would have been quite a way already. Without the steep drop, I might have managed to cross the spot in a normal way, but here the fear took over. Especially with the backpack, I felt too unsteady. So I crouched down and waited. With someone’s support, I thought I could probably manage – but would anyone actually come? I didn’t take a photo; I felt it wouldn’t really capture the steepness anyway. And besides, I was too worried, caught up in back-and-forth thoughts.
And then, as if by miracle, an angel actually hopped across that very tricky spot for me. A trail runner – probably Italian (he spoke English) – looked at me with kind, gentle eyes and thought at first that I was injured when I asked for help. The fact that I was afraid of heights seemed a bit hard for him to grasp. But it didn’t matter – he was willing to help and asked what he could do. Then he grabbed my backpack, hopped back across that section, and suddenly I felt lighter and steadier without the load and with him nearby. That way, I managed to crawl over those awful rocks.

 

Then he jumped back again, and I continued on my way. For quite a while the trail remained a bit tricky, but all the sections were ones I could manage. And I noticed: no one else actually came along. How lucky I had been! My feelings kept swinging back and forth – between gratitude that he had been there to help me, and frustration that I get so afraid in places where others simply hop across with ease. Or where they might at least find it tricky, but still manageable.

 

Later, there was a small kind of bridge without any railing. I crawled across it on all fours and felt happy that I could manage it..

 

Here’s a look back; you can perhaps make out sections of the path winding between the rocks?

 

 

Otherwise, it was still very beautiful; the sky was gradually clearing, so here are some more mountain pics:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then I came to a lake, where there is also a war memorial:

 

 

 

 

Then I continued along lakes in the pretty afternoon sun, over more small passes, past shelters, and so on. The trails were quite narrow, but I had seen tire tracks on them and wondered what cyclists can manage. Then I heard a motor sound—and it wasn’t cyclists, but motorcyclists! Incredible! How can anyone handle that?

 

 

 

 

 

The Sillian Hütte was very nicely situated, a bit larger, modern, and comfortable. The dormitory had only bunk beds, was quite full, and despite a male majority, nobody snored—which was lucky! The people were fairly nice, but I wasn’t very sociable at all. The day and the encounters beforehand had been enough, and I “hid” a bit behind my mobile. The mountaineer’s meal (lentil stew) was sufficient and tasty—and I was actually quite satisfied. However, the short hike had still demanded a lot from me throughout the day, leaving me exhausted. Too exhausted even to go outside and watch the beautiful sunset.

 

 

 

The view of the Italian Dolomites was, by the way, spectacular—but that will have to wait for the next blog post….