Lindenhof Ski Touring Weekends

As soon as Markus sets his foot down, the snow cover beneath him breaks with a soft thud. What was just a moment ago pristine, untouched white now resembles a pile of shards. Fine cracks run through the snow to the left and right of his ski tips and become deeper and wider towards the back, until the ground shatters into sharp-edged blocks. It looks a bit like our guide is walking on mini ice floes.
"Perfect. I can still show it off!" Markus calls out with almost childlike joy in his voice and eyes. And then, turning to us: "Look: This is wind-blown snow!"

Normally, all alarm bells should be ringing now. Because wind-blown snow is not good, that's what both instructors from the Naturfreunde - this time, besides Markus "Rosi" Rosenauer, also Simon Tischhart - have already taught us in the evening theory sessions. After all, it's considered one of the most common causes of avalanches.
But what is normal about this first February weekend, where the sun is scorching our heads like it usually doesn't before April, and where we have to literally search for snow in places that have always been the epitome of winter in recent years? Besides, the slope inclination is no more than 20, maybe not even 15 degrees. After all, we are only a few meters below the rather flat summit of the Millstätter Alpe.
So, no alarm bells. Instead, interested glances at what is happening beneath our skis, a brief reminder of our color discussion yesterday - dull matte white vs. sparkling bright white - and the question of where the wind necessary for wind-blown snow could have come from. "Do you see anything here that could indicate it?" Rosi asks the group.

We are in the Nock Mountains, specifically at one of the first ski touring weekends at the Landhotel Lindenhof. As hotel manager Hannes Nindler does every winter, the writer of these lines has swapped her bikes for two boards, poles, and skins and is now practicing the alternative sport for bikers par excellence.
“Do you own equipment and have already completed your first tours? Now you want more, but don't know how?” This was stated in the announcement for the ski touring weekends in Feld am See. As if its author had read the thoughts of the writer.

So the three-and-a-half-day adventure with guided tours including workshops and training sessions plus theoretical units under the motto “From piste to terrain” was quickly booked. Because we know the Lindenhof with its bistro “Radlerei”, its floating vintage bike exhibition, and its bike wallpaper room from summer and we know: What this establishment offers is well-founded – and above all, heartfelt. Not to mention the fantastic cuisine in the small boutique hotel at Brennsee.

Three evening lectures on tour equipment and planning, map and avalanche knowledge are already behind us, along with several workshops and exercises interspersed during the tours for the purpose of avalanche transceiver handling, buried victim search, probing, situation assessment and – repeatedly – orientation.
We know the meaning of terms like initial fracture ("it's nothing medical"), wind slabs, or constructive metamorphism, and we understand the issues of exposure, slope inclination, and layer structure. We have experienced firsthand how quickly the heart starts racing when you try to sprint along the field lines of the avalanche transceiver during a coarse search, breaking through knee-deep with each step. And we have felt with a probe how the ground feels under the snow, and in contrast, how a backpack or a crusted snow layer feels.

We understand – at least to some extent – the language of maps: contour lines, colors, symbols, shades. We have even tried a bit of triangulation, first with the compass, then with the map reader, for remember: "I know where I am!" is the principle of all actions.
We somewhat master the art of kick turns and the reasonably economical tracking. We know how to prevent the dreaded snow buildup, keyword snow temperature. And because it fits so nicely, Markus is now also demonstrating how to determine the slope inclination using ski poles.
We gladly take in the additional teaching content in the pleasantly sunny, windless spot. For teaching content means breaks. And breaks are something our legs desperately need on what is now the third tour in a row.

It is a colorful group that marches in two groups of eight, along with guides and companions, towards the 2,091 m high Nocken: spouses and neighbors, work colleagues and hiking communities. One is like the blueprint of the announcement text: completed the first tours, bought equipment, but then slowed down by an injury and now all the more eager to take off again; the other probably a little overqualified: has been on ski tours for a while and regularly attends courses for a knowledge refresher. Most like going uphill, the silence, the summit victory. Few feel comfortable going downhill in the terrain. Some come from far away, others from the neighboring valley. The youngest count 20, 30 years. The oldest are an impressive 75, 80, and 82 years young.
We soon call the trio Golden Girls. And as excited as millions of fans once followed the TV stars via television screens, we are just as fascinated watching the youthful activities of these three more than spry ladies from the Innsbruck area at the hotel and on the mountain.

The prospect of a maximum of 600 meters in altitude daily was decisive for signing up, explained spokeswoman Marianne during the introductory round. Because due to age, the friends increasingly lose their tour companions. “The AV courses always have 1,000 meters in altitude per day. That's no fun, we also want to enjoy the evenings together,” the retiree specified the next day during the 5-course dinner and raised her glass grinning towards her companions.
Some comrades half their age could only nod appreciatively and stifle a yawn. The individual tours of the weekend may be of manageable length. Combined with the subsequent theory sessions, possibly additional wellness activities, and the opulent dinners, the program still results in full minds, heavy limbs, and small eyes.

But now, after the Tobitscher (1,904 m, 420 m elevation gain) and the Steinalmhütte (1,930 m, 560 m elevation gain), only a few steps remain to the third and final peak of the camp.
As radiant as the sun shone early in the morning, the sweat flowed abundantly over the previous 600 meters of elevation gain. However, increasing wind now announces the nearby crest, and with each step, the terrain, which was not particularly steep to begin with, becomes flatter and walking becomes easier.
Finally, the summit cross rises, accompanied by a fantastic 360° panorama of the countless almost and fully two-thousanders of the Nockberge and Gailtaler Alps, as well as the Hohe Tauern, which peek almost another 1,000 m higher.

Down in the valley lie Spittal an der Drau, Seeboden, and Lake Millstatt. Up here on the mountain, there are masses of garnet stones - during one of his numerous excursions into the flora, fauna, and geology of the mountains, Markus made us aware of the local occurrence of these gemstones - and soon ski poles, skins, and backpacks are scattered all around.
A look at the faces says more than a thousand words: pride and satisfaction mix with exhaustion and admiration - for the scenery, one's own performance, and repeatedly for that of the "Golden Girls."
Concern is also noticeable here and there: the upcoming descent in the terrain is not among the favorites for most. But with guide Simon's mantra in mind, it will somehow work out, tired legs and heavy wet snow notwithstanding. "Be like a ball!" the young Lower Austrian has impressed upon his group. Whether during the descent or in an avalanche: approaching this ideal form is a good idea in many situations in the winter mountains.

With now practiced movements, we do what has become routine upon reaching the highest point over the past few days: changing clothes, removing skins, adjusting bindings, and packing away equipment.
Of course, a photo or two is a must. And finally, there's time for the first bites of the always delicious and lovingly prepared Lindenhof lunch package—though due to the strong wind, we soon decide to take the real summit break a bit further down, at a pond we passed earlier with a covered seating area.

For the last time, there's now time and opportunity to wonderfully fail. Although we have found our descent mode: Markus takes the rear going downhill, the most confident skiers lead the way, and in between, distress and misery vie for the ironically meant titles of style icon, speed queen, or orientation king. But today, the snow is so wet and the descent so challenging that even our guides have some difficulty looking completely elegant.
The break we take further down is all the more welcome, during which we not only satisfy our hunger, soothe our bodies, and attend to the last lesson (note: the mini-tool known from cycling also helps in adjusting a ski touring binding that's too loosely set and constantly releasing). Sitting and chatting in the wind-protected sunny resting spot also serves as an opportunity to take stock.

Behind us lie three and a half intense, fun days, in which we were able to experience many facets of ski touring, from meditative trudging to cheerful hut partying, from ice sheets to wet snow, from hairpin massacre to dream panorama, and planning errors to weather changes.
We worked our way up and struggled our way down, misjudged and (on paper) got lost, supported and admired. We cursed and enjoyed, barely froze and sweated a lot. And throughout all of this, we refreshed the familiar and learned new things, so that when the snow comes again, we are prepared for ski touring as it is at its best: away from the crowds and lifts, surrounded by nothing but mountains and sky - but aware of the danger.