Bike Tours Around Graz: Schöckl, Semriach, and Surroundings

The Lurhexe (Lur Witch) looks down at us quite sullenly. No wonder, though. “Cocoa ceremony; the last ones didn’t leave until well after midnight,” says Andreas Schinnerl, a fifth-generation cave guide, recounting the meditative activities of the previous night.
The witch probably just needs some sleep. And the fact that Andreas, to draw our attention to her, sweeps the beam of his flashlight over her grimly jutting chin and long nose, even shining it directly into her deep-set eyes, likely doesn’t improve matters.
The gentleman to her right, on the other hand, appears quite stoic. With his gaze humbly lowered, his head bowed in reverence, and blessed with a mane of curls that could also pass as a crown of thorns, he somewhat resembles that Jewish itinerant preacher whom Pontius Pilate once had nailed to the cross.

Leaving behind the snarling witch and the Christ lookalike, we continue climbing the stairs of the Bear Grotto until we reach a junction. To the right, the path leads on to the Great Dome, and we will later return from the left.
Humidity: 97 percent, Temperature: not even ten degrees Celsius. That outside, the last days of the calendar summer are living up to their name, is not noticeable here beneath 50 to 120 meters of rock cover.
We are in the Lurgrotte Semriach, about 25 kilometers north of Graz, part of the Graz Adventure Region. Between us and the Styrian provincial capital lies only the Schöckl. And this stunningly beautiful, underground dripstone landscape, which the groundwater and the Lurbach stream have carved into the cave-rich karst of the Tanneben.

Completely different, yet no less captivating, the Schöcklkalk presents itself to us a little later on what feels like the other side of the world, on the surface of the Graz mountain region.
Velvety green meadows cover the gently rolling hills, and deep green forests adorn the slopes of the steeper mountain flanks. The first yellow leaves and red wine promisingly dot the idyllic scene, and colorfully spotted cows graze contentedly as autumn approaches.
The fact that the Styrian state capital, with its bustling activity, vibrant cultural scene, and corresponding traffic volume, lies no more than ten or twenty car minutes away: It's hard to believe when cycling over the foothills and along the northern and southern slopes of the Schöckl on solitary roads, letting your gaze wander over the charming villages, lush orchards, rural structures, and distant mountains.

Directly from the cave entrance, we set off on the first day, glad for the late summer warmth and the initial incline up to Semriach after the frosty march through the Earth's interior. A good 30 kilometers and 700 meters of elevation should suffice after the journey and cave tour.
As soon as we pass the town center with its charming main square—where a break for coffee, ice cream, or doughnuts is highly recommended upon return—childhood memories come flooding back: Just like in the past, Piet Hoyos still invites visitors to his traditional Icelandic horse farm on the eastern outskirts of the town. Here, you can enjoy the happiness of this world on the friendly, shaggy five-gaited horses.

The only thing that is almost entirely absent up here is motor vehicles. Probably one reason why we are by no means the only cyclists taking advantage of the sunny afternoon for a ride through the Graz mountain region. Especially on road bikes, we repeatedly encounter solo riders, couples, and even entire groups.
From Jägerwirt, the route descends 100 meters in altitude with the Schöckl always at our backs, passing through picturesque villages, mown meadows, and grazing livestock on either side. At times, you feel as though you're on a high plateau, like an alpine pasture or at least in a mountain farming area, and then again, the hamlets and occasional views toward Semriach testify to life beyond cattle farming and agriculture.
Rechbergdorf marks the point where we once again change both our direction and our speed. Southwestward, we pedal swiftly down into the valley of the Lurbach, which is fed here by numerous other streams, and then only with a short counter climb around the Eichberg.

Speaking of Lurbach: Contrary to what the Styrian dialect once suggested, it does not get lost, "verlorn, verlurn," shortly after entering the cave. Instead, it disappears for about 72 hours into the depths of Tanneben, only to reappear at the other end of the grotto, near the Peggau entrance, at the Hammerbach spring.
During high water, however, the stream takes a different, much faster route, needing only 12 hours to rush through the karst massif. It shows no regard for man-made structures: for instance, during the century flood of 1975, not only were the bar and ticketing areas of the Schinnerls submerged up to the ceiling, but the raging force of nature also swept away all the pathways that had previously enabled guided tours through the dripstone cave to Peggau and back.

Far less tranquil than the scene in July 50 years ago is the setting on the second day of our Graz weekend: Early on, the sun warms our backs as we gather our belongings in the parking lot of the Schöckl cable car in St. Radegund. Looking up at the sky and checking the weather forecast, there’s no sign of rain, and the result of our evening tour planning promises a varied mix of a challenging summit climb and a swift exploration of the land between Schöckl and Graz.
Accompanied by the best wishes of our friendly hosts, we packed our bags after a delightful breakfast at the Semriacherhof and drove around the limestone massif to the other side of the Schöckl, the actual local mountain side.

The state capital is just a stone's throw away from here, and we have long known this place, this slope, as the start/finish area or playground of the Schöckl Trail Area, the venue of some legendary downhill races, as well as a practice ground for riding technique coaching and freeride camps.
A "motor skills park for everyone" explicitly offers suitable training stations for people in wheelchairs at the mountain station of the year-round operating cable car, and for those who don’t want to go down with the MTB, on foot, or by gondola, there is the option to take the summer toboggan run called "Hexenexpress."

Admittedly: Not as slow-paced as watching stalactites grow. After all, the stalactites and stalagmites of the Lurgrotte grow by just about the size of a pinhead (!) each year.
Realizing this, there’s nothing more impressive than standing in front of the so-called "Giant." This 40-ton colossus stands 13 meters tall and measures nine meters in circumference. It is considered the largest free-hanging stalactite in the world. The span of millions of years and, by comparison, the fleeting existence of humans—barely more than the blink of an eye—are illustrated here in the most vivid way.

If we were to move at the pace of a pinhead’s growth per hour on our second cycling tour, we probably wouldn’t make it back in this lifetime. Thankfully, our individual mix of the Gipfelsturm and the shortened Schöcklland Tour, with elements of the Panorama Tour thrown in, covers around 50 kilometers and 1,400 meters of elevation gain.
Thanks to narrow tires, sporty gear ratios, and slim handlebars, we make significantly faster progress—even when we switch from the relatively gentle Ehrenfelsstraße to the gravelly Waldtoniweg, entering full-on hill climb mode to conquer Graz’s alpine excursion destination.

To what extent the Schöckl Gipfelsturm, also known as part of the marathon series Mountainbike Challenge, is actually suitable for gravel bikes, we had doubted in advance. After all, on the way up, especially in the middle section, it gets quite bumpy, which can become exciting to arduous for both rider and equipment at the latest on the descent.
And indeed, sweat flows uphill where Magna's legendary test track for the Mercedes G-Class also runs, while downhill, wrists and tires demand a careful choice of line. But the fantastic view compensates for a lot, and as if to make amends, there is also smoother, more material-friendly asphalt in the middle section.

We’re not quite as lucky with the view, but we hit the jackpot with our choice of rest stop: Among the many dedicated refreshment stations in the summit area, the Halterhütte stands out for its rustic charm and slightly more secluded location. And the hosts reward us with the finest mushroom goulash, Kaiserschmarrn, sheet cake, and cheese bread.

The inhabitants of the Lurgrotte are far less demanding. The spores and seeds brought in by the stream require only the minimal glimmer of light that penetrates the underground cosmos during tours to delicately green and sprout. The hundreds of bats that hang out inside the cave from November to March hibernate, needing, strictly speaking, nothing more than air and quiet. Even the giant cave bears, whose bones and teeth were found in the grotto, subsisted solely on plants. Although, to clarify: these Ice Age mega-teddies never actually lived in the Lurgrotte, which was too small for them. Rather, water transported their mortal remains inside.

We learn all this and more during the approximately seventy-minute group tour that the Schinnerl family regularly offers in the Lurgrotte Semriach, and which operations manager Andreas fills with an entertaining mix of natural history, small jokes, and palpable enthusiasm for "his" cave.
There is much more to discover beyond that. During roughly four-hour adventure tours, which also include crawling sections, one can, for example, penetrate to approximately the middle of the underground passages. Those who want to provide children with a special experience can send them on a treasure hunt deep inside the mountain.

We meanwhile add another experience above ground and take a 30-km loop after the summit ascent in the increasingly flattening land between Schöckl and Graz: down via the Römerweg and Schöcklbach to Weinitzen, then eastward via Nadischhöhe and Eidexberg, and then passing Kumberg and Willersdorf back to St. Radegund.
Here, the atmosphere leans more towards suburban belt charm than recreational area flair. But again, the area captivates us with its charm, its greenery, and the far-reaching absence of architectural sins; even more so, the more the route consistently takes us onto scarcely trafficked side roads, grazes picturesque cultural landscapes, or passes true power spots at scenic benches and natural monuments.

Only around Kumberg does the image briefly dim due to the B72, familiar supermarkets, and car washes. However, the spell only lasts briefly and even has its positives: where there is denser civilization, there are enough people to maintain facilities like the Well Welt Kumberg, an idyllic bathing lake with a campsite.
And as soon as we have worked our way back into more solitary terrain via Not, everything we have come to appreciate so much over the past hours and days is there again: the impressive panoramic views, the neatly renovated cottages, the magnificently tended vegetable gardens and deliciously tasting apples (for the record: we only sampled windfalls), the undisturbed free-roaming chickens, and cows here and there.

In the Lurgrotte, by the way, it's hardly less varied: In the light of countless LED lamps, a beehive and a bell, twins and a pine forest, spaghetti, numerous sets of teeth, a leaning tower, and much more emerge from the darkness.
Perhaps, so our thought at the very end, the Lurhexe (Lur witch) looks so grim because she herself sits petrified in her rock wall and knows that she will never get to see all this splendor?