Lucknerhütte -> Salmhütte – Tendertrembling Knees

4. July 2025

 

 

4,8 km

630 m up

235 m down

3:10 hrs.

It doesn’t sound like much, but it was a bit different. We’d actually booked a hut that was farther away, but we still had one day to fill — and somehow there wasn’t really a good option for where to hike next. So we left it open, thinking we might split the stage in two — the mountains here were beautiful, the weather forecast was always a bit iffy, and so far there’d been enough space in the huts. We figured we’d just decide on the way. Why we ended up choosing this particular hut — well, here’s how that happened…

In high spirits, we set off from the Lucknerhütte. First, though, you have a quick look in the spacious, tidy boot room with warm boot-drying pipes:

 

 

The sun was shining, the sky was bright blue, and we happily hiked our way uphill.

 

 

 

There was a trail marked as more difficult that led straight to the Glorer Hütte, but I didn’t feel up to it (Lydia definitely would’ve done it). This route here was also supposed to have some tougher sections — but the ones with the rope didn’t really count.

 

 

 

Then it got rockier and steeper in a different way — a narrow footpath with nothing to hold on to. But it wasn’t bad at all, actually it was pretty amazing.

 

 

 

 

 

The last stretch was even steeper and narrower. We ran into a Dutch group, and I asked if the other side of the pass was going to be steeper or trickier. One woman said, “Not really, but more scary.” Oh dear… I wondered what she meant by that! They had a guide with them who was leading them through the terrain.

 

 

But first we reached the pass. It is named Pfortscharte and 2.828 m high.

 

 

Mhm, it did look a bit steeper. I thought, I can handle this, and set off. Worst case, I could always just scoot down on my butt!

 

 

Problem: just sliding down on my butt wasn’t enough anymore. I got scared and told Lydia I was going to turn back. Oh no, that would’ve been such a bummer. She said she’d help me. I agreed, but it was tough. There was nothing to hold on to, and I couldn’t place my feet with full confidence either. One look down at my feet showed me just how far it dropped — fear. Shaking. And there was Lydia’s calming voice — she could stand without trouble, always kept her foot there to brace me, guided my every step, and supported me by my backpack. She told me that at some point I’d be able to stand up straight again, but the fear had me in its grip — standing felt impossible. So I just kept inching along, shaking all over, step by tiny step, for maybe 20 or 30 minutes. Full of fear but also trusting that Lydia would “save” me. Totally focused on every tiny move. No pausing, no looking back — just her voice with me the whole time. I wanted to cry and quit, but obviously that wasn’t an option. So it was just: keep going, keep going, keep going. And then — I actually did it! My feet finally found solid ground, I dared to stand up, and we made it to the point where the trail got noticeably easier.

It really reminded me of my panic attack in Nepal — I thought I’d end up crying and shaking all over again, but this time it wasn’t quite that bad. It passed. I was exhausted but also a bit proud that I’d pulled it off. Even if I was clingy like a little monkey and needed help — when the other person is so solid and calming, you can push yourself further than you would alone. I felt so lucky to have Lydia with me!

And then I was just so, so relieved to have it behind me. My knees were kind of like jelly and still shaking a bit, but I was okay. And we were rewarded with this amazing scenery — a valley, a river, peaceful sheep, and the Salmhütte perched above it all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We’d actually booked the next hut, but we wanted to ask at the Salmhütte if we could change our plan. We went inside and got such a warm welcome that we really, really hoped it would work out. It’s always interesting with these hut hosts — the first one was a young team, the second one had a slightly annoying guy, the third place was so big you couldn’t really pin anyone down, and now here was this warm-hearted woman in a house apron who’d gathered an equally lovely team around her. They balanced out all the testosterone vibes that are usually so strong up there. They also seemed to attract marmots — and they managed to sort out our overnight stay too. We got to stay.

 

 

 

 

It was still a bit early, and despite that sign by the hut, there was no mobile signal at all.

 

 

We walked a bit down these meadows where the signal was better. Strangely enough, it only worked on my phone — Lydia’s was being fussy.

 

 

 

 

Then we went a bit above the hut and I took a picture of it.

 

 

The hut was packed, the food was super plentiful and tasty — but the Kasspatzn weren’t exactly photogenic. Because everyone there was so lovely, we ended up splurging on the expensive half board anyway. And then we were stuffed to the brim. When there’s that much food, at least I always tend to eat way too much. Not good.

This place was bursting with testosterone (but at least we got a small dorm with just two other women), and it got me thinking again about women in the mountains. There were so few traveling solo — I think I counted maybe five — a few pairs of women, and most were with male partners or in mixed groups. The guys, meanwhile, were out there in all sorts of combinations and way outnumbered us, just like back in 1998 when I’d noticed the same thing on a Dolomites trip with a friend.

A lot of people here were aiming for the Großglockner summit. But there were also some sticking to the Glocknerkrone Trail. We kept bumping into two young guys — they’d cleverly avoided our steep section and taken a detour around it instead.

The next stage was going to be really short again, but you never know what the mountains have in store or what you’ll experience. For me, today’s adventures were more than enough to be nicely tired. And tomorrow? Thunderstorms maybe? Would I finally get to test out my new rain jacket?