Ideas for your next Europe holiday could include a life-changing hike from Germany to Italy. Photo / Rose Jacob
A hike into the unknown, across 600km and multiple countries proves to be life-changing for Rose Jacobs, a 40-something-year-old single mum who never knew she had it in her
“Come and do The Dream Way!” they said. A 570km Alpine trek from Munich’s Marienplatz in Germany to the Piazza San Marco in Venice, Italy, also known as Der Traumpfad.
“Well, that sounds nice,” I thought to my 44-year-old single mother self. “I could do with a break.”
And so began the gruelling 600km hike that started in Munich, across the Alps of Austria, traversed up and over the Dolomites in Italy and finally, crawled its way into Venice. Twenty-nine days, (averaging 10 hours walking per day) later.
Let me tell you now, this was anything but a dream. It was a test of everything physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual that I could endure. And it was extraordinary.
I booked my flights from Sydney to Frankfurt in November last year. This gave me just over eight months to prepare and train. Of which, I did neither. I’m a busy mum! And I’ve hiked once before… having walked the Camino de Santiago the previous year across Spain, completing 800km of hot terrain. How hard can this little dreamy walking thingy be?
With a pack that I was proud of, weighing 10kg and just over 20 per cent of my body weight (when will I listen to the professionals) off I set. There were nine of us in total who began the walk in Munich: half blokes, half women, from several countries scattered across Europe – but only one enthusiastic little curly blonde pocket rocket from down under. I was pumped.
Day one nearly killed me. My German hiking buddy Ingo told us to expect an easy start, to get used to our gear, warm up the muscles and arrive on time at our pre-booked hostel at the end of the day for a hearty meal. Germans have a wonderful ability to bend the truth. Fourty-four kilometres, 14 hours and 60,000 steps later, I was questioning what the hell I was thinking. There were tears, I was out of water, hangry and resentful of all Germans who crossed my path. And there were many since I was still in Germany. In fact, many of them were naked, since we had been walking out of Munich via the main River Isar which in summer is where they flock to flaunt their lily-white bottoms in the glorious sunshine. To a country gal from Australia, it will forever remain bizarre and comical and fascinating all at once.
The internal politics soon began. With a Spaniard, a German and a 193cm Czech representing the men in our “Dream Team”, each of them with more than 20 hikes of more than 1000km each under their belt, things were about to get interesting. Unlike the Camino de Santiago where everything is physically sign-posted for hikers (pilgrims) along the route, the Dreamway had none. It was a matter of relying on your apps for directions, and whose app had the more accurate data became a much-heated topic for debate - roughly every kilometre, or at every fork in the path. Several frustrating bum-steers, several near fisticuffs and many days later, the boys (note change of reference from men) were throwing tanties and the women (remaining women) had taken charge. At least it had taken my focus off blisters and aching limbs.
The scenery had so far been spectacular, and we were enjoying the warm days traversing river-banks, taking selfies, bonding and beginning to feel pretty chuffed with our efforts. And then we arrived at the starting point for the alpine region and everything changed. Members of the group began having serious doubts about the safety of the Alps, the reliability of the apps, the weather, physical ailments, each other’s sanity, the group dynamic, money, their shoelaces... the list went on. And so it was that seven, yes seven of the original nine decided to call it quits while they still could, with access to trains and airports, before we entered the Alps, where the terrain would be very steep, with high altitudes, no towns or the option to turn back.
The first hill was brutal. It was down to Ingo and me to keep each other motivated but on we climbed. Over the next week the terrain became progressively rockier, drier, steeper, with snow-capped mountains in the distance, and we began to encounter some pretty wild storms. The world’s least attractive plastic raincoats came out.
When we made it to our huts at the end of each day, I’d never felt so tired in my life. Our accommodation was almost entirely pre-booked for two reasons. Firstly, there are only one or two huts within walking distance on these Alps that you can stay at each day and they book out almost six months in advance. Secondly, Ingo is super organised. In order to stay in the huts, you should also have an “Alpine Passport” purchased in advance as it will give you discounted prices for bed, showers, dinner and breakfast.
Now, this part is important. When I say bed… I mean bunk. And when I say bunk, I mean many, many, many bunks, all in the one room. Men and women all share. And when you have a room full of German blokes snoring like freight trains, you’re going to want to be armed with ear plugs and an eye mask, plus a silk sleep sheet to protect you from bed bugs. Thankfully the Germans kept their underpants on for sleeping, it’s just rivers and saunas you need to be braced for.
Now, the showers. These also double as your laundry. And if it wasn’t so painfully cold to shower in alpine temperature water at the end of the day, for under two minutes before your token ran out, while washing your clothes with your feet, it would be comical.
As for the meals, there became an ongoing joke among the hikers that there were three options: polenta, potato, or polenta. Day in, day out, every hut served the same carb-heavy food, some of it okay, some abominable. But after so many hours of walking, everything started to look good.
Evenings were spent laughing and connecting with other hikers. Ingo also happened to be carrying his string guitar. This meant that nightly sing-alongs became the ritual and before we knew it, we had formed something of a new tribe. My core group consisted of four German men… and me. We quickly became like family. We walked together, talked together, slept in bunks next to each other, shared washing lines, ate three meals a day together, cried together, laughed together… it’s a bond that forms between people who experience the same environment, the same hardships, jokes, moments and memories that no words can explain, and stays with you a long time after the hike is done.
The Dolomites were higher, colder, steeper, sharper and scarier than I had imagined. I still can’t quite believe I scaled those cliffs, or crossed a series of seven major summits in one day at over 3000m.
Physically, I’m now feeling empowered. I’m feeling strong. Capable. I’m proud and amazed at the muscles that have carried me from mountain to mountain, as far as the eye can see in every direction. We stop at glacial waterfalls and throw ourselves in. A real-life ice bath. We rise for breathtaking sunrises and make coffee from scratch as we sit in silence and awe at the beauty of the world below us. Often we are alone with our own thoughts. This can be a scary place. But it can also be a time we never grant ourselves in our daily lives. To process, forgive, grieve, heal, find hope, resilience, inner strength, connection, and eventually a sense of peace.
The arrival into Venice is bitter-sweet. Like a troupe of soldiers emerging from the battlefield, covered in the muck of the mountains and the memories in our hearts, we want to arrive and rest, but also we don’t. We know this was a journey that can never be replicated. And suddenly, it feels like it was all a dream. Filled with highs and lows, literally and emotionally, never as we expected or wanted, but always what we needed. The Dreamway delivered.
GETTING THERE
Fly from Auckland to Munich with Singapore Airlines, Qatar Airways and Emirates with one stopover.
DETAILS
For more information, visit casehikes.com/dreamway-munich-to-venice
Jenni Mortimer checks in to see where the hotel's money has been spent.