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In July of 2006 a small group got together to walk from Garmisch-Partenkirchen
in Germany, through the thinnest part of Austria and on to the Italian border -
naked. This was the NEWT, or Naked European Walking Tour, and was planned as a
repeat of a similar walk I had completed alone in 2005 and described
on the http://www.nakedeurope.org web site. We started at 9am on
July 1st from the bahnhof (train station) at Garmisch and set off beside the
river towards the Mittenwald forest, discarding our clothes as we each felt
comfortable along the route, between the town and the entrance to the
Partenklamm gorge. The gorge cost 2 Euros each to walk through, and I paid for
all of us so as to speed up the process. Although the lady behind the cash
desk looked a bit bemused, she seemed fairly comfortable with the sight of 7
naked men queueing up at her counter. Another punter, one of a mixed group of
clothed men and women hovering nearby, requested to take a photograph of this
unusual sight, and curiosity satisfied, we set off up the cold, dark gorge.
The water churned through the tight rocky confines, waterfalls sprayed from
high above in the distant sunlight as we followed the winding trail carved from
the eastern side of the gorge walls, just above the raging torrent below. The
cool air blew freshly over our naked skin. We passed several groups of people
in the gorge, one girl looking back as she held her mother's hand, another
couple squealed with surprise as they noticed us, but no-one appeared overly
concerned, even this close to such a major tourist town as Garmisch. After a
while we left the gorge, having survived the 'blooding' of our naked walk - our
first encounters with textiles (people wearing clothes), and certainly not our
last. We continued alongside the river, passing a pair of women on the
opposite bank who waved encouragingly to us as they took photographs of this
perhaps unusual sight.
All of us were experienced naked hikers but this was our first trip together.
We were an interesting mix of people from different countries: including
Britain, France, New Zealand, Switzerland and the United States of America.
Our professions were equally varied including a librarian, an ex-prison
officer, a grounds- and handy-man for a castle estate, a programmer and author,
a translator and an unemployed wastrel. Although the average age was near 50,
we ranged right up to 76! Extraordinary though it might seem, at 46, I
appeared to be the baby of the group.
An unrelenting grind up the Kalbersteig, winding through the trees, gained most
of our height for that day. Konrad, the Swiss Bear, carried David's old and
heavy cotton Italian army rucksack for the steep sections, a mighty
demonstration of solid mountain strength. We spent the day walking along
forest trails below the Wetterstein, an enormous wall of limestone towering
above the pine trees of the Mittenwald. Along the route we met several
cyclists - a particularly pleasant encounter was one girl who rode through our
group on her mountain bike giving us the thumbs up, and calling out
enthusiastically and with a big grin: "Nice outfits!" After a pause for an
apfelschoerle, (applejuice mixed with fizzy water, and very refreshing), at the
Ferchensee gasthof next to an idyllic lake, we continued for another couple of
hours and ended our days walk with dinner at the Gletscherschliff gasthof.
Here we lost David, the American, the walk was too strenous for him, and his
ancient army rucksack with very thin shoulder straps had proved most
uncomfortable.
We camped next to the Isar, and the Austrian border, that night and the next
day we dressed briefly to have breakfast at a cafe in Scharnitz before
continuing our naked walk in the forest to the east. Both Christian and Konrad
had a rather smart alternative to the shorts the rest of us were wearing, this
was a cloth wrap, nearly a lightweight skirt. This enabled them to
dress/undress in fractions of a second with no interuption to walking. Those
of us wearing shorts (when encountering gasthofs, villages and the like) had to
stop, remove our rucksacks, step in or out of our shorts, risking tripping
over, and having stowed away our shorts, re-shoulder our rucksacks and continue
walking. The wrap was a far more elegant solution, to the repeated
performance, altogether. Walking through the forest, we approached a bridge
across the roaring river below.
The clanging of a herd of cow bells rang
through the air, slowly drowned by the noise of more than 100 young people
cheering a boy crossing the river by walking across a Tyrolean traverse (a
single rope strung across the gorge). This was a new experience for most of
us, being naked in front of so many people, but we just took it in our stride
and set off across the bridge. We walked past the lines of teenagers to a
round of cheering and much jocularity, the entire group seemed very relaxed at
our unexpected intrusion. A man ran after us to film us briefly, to ask us
what we were doing, and looked almost disappointed when we answered "We're just
out for a pleasant walk." On this baking hot Sunday in July we met many more
people on the trail up the Karwendel valley. Mostly mountain bikers, with a
mix of small walking groups, families or couples, and individual sporty types
too. One couple asked us where all the women were, and sadly we had to reply
that none had chosen to accompany us on this particular trip - perhaps next
time?
The route continued up the long valley, past monumental cliffs and towering
mountains soaring from the thick forests below. The phrase: "only mad dogs and
Englishmen go out in the midday sun" came to mind, as we tramped remourselessly
along the long made-up trail, for hours, sweat dripping from all over, from all
of us. We finally stopped at the Kastenalm, a high mountain pasture used in
the summer for milk cows, which offered a menu of cheese and bread, meat and
bread, or cheese and meat and bread. Simple fare, but we were all glad of it.
The cool beer quenched our thirsty throats from the long days march. We
decided to not go any further today, but to camp nearby amongst the trees near
where the stones overflowed onto the flat plains when the spring thaw melted
the snow and burst the river bank.
The next day started with a steep climb to yet another high summer pasture.
Doug and I set off first, and this steady 76 year old from New Zealand soon
showed me what a mountain pace was. I had to ask him to slow down a bit, and
he simply said this was his normal steady pace and "What's the problem...?" We
continued up and up, and were met by a couple of young women coming down the
track. They pleasantly returned our morning greetings, and just as they were
going around corner, I noticed one had pulled out her camera to try to snap a
photo of us as we went out of sight. I stopped and called out: "Would you like
a photo?", "Yes, indeed!" she replied (in German). So we stopped and waited as
she walked back up towards us and took a photo of these 2 naked men who had
passed her on the track. "Don't worry", she said, "they won't get on to the
Internet!". "It really doesn't matter", we replied, "and may we take a photo
too?", "Of course!" she said. So Doug took a photo with my camera, of me
standing next to the dressed girl with her friend behind, at which point 2 lads
approached from above at the same time, and took a photo of all of us together.
Their boyfriends, I imagined, were probably a bit surprised to see their
girlfriends talking to 2 naked men, but seemed quite relaxed too. It was such
a simple exchange, both parties were simply recording an interesting encounter
and enjoying the novelty. We carried on, and after some time reached the
Hallerangeralm. This was set in a a broadening of the valley running east and
west, with towering limestones ridges to the south and to the north. The
grandeur of the place was awe inspiring. The Hallerangeralm itself was a small
cluster of buildings perched on the remains a central glacier moraine in the
middle of the valley, with a stupendous longtitudinal view in 2 directions,
with steep ridges to both sides. We stopped here for an early lunch.
I had wanted to continue along the main valley but Konrad was very insistent we
went over the steep col to the south, and I conceded it because it looked like
a pleasant enough route, so we changed course. I felt that it was right for
members of the group to be able to contribute to the route planning but in
hindsight I should perhaps have stood my ground. The route now crossed this
high mountain pass, and climbed steeply up a loose scree slope of rock, with a
vestige of snow in the coulouir. The snow was steep and blocked the path at
the top of the slope for about 40 m. This meant that the group had to either
turn back, or cross the snow using the remnants of footprints from previous
walkers. One slip would mean sliding perhaps 50 m straight down the surface of
the icy snow onto the broken rocks below. The sort of injuries to a naked
person in those conditions didn't bear thinking about, even if one survived the
slide. I don't think most people in the group, though worried by the crossing,
can have quite realised how dangerous this truly was, because by the time I
reached the snow crossing, most of the rest of the group had already crossed,
so even had I wished to turn everyone around, I would have had a hard time
convincing them to back-track their steps across the snow for a second time.
Meanwhile a couple had crossed in the opposite direction, and they reassured me
that the route on the other side was simple enough, even for naked hikers, and
nowhere as steep as this side, so I reluctantly followed the group.
The ensuing walk across the high plateau-like col, before descending to the Inn
valley at it's narrowest point, was inspiring, and nearly made the perilous
snow traverse worthwhile. The view from the far side, south onto high ridges
overlooking the Inn valley was simply magnificent. We trudged down, losing all
our hard gained height, to St. Magdelena, a gasthof which turned out to be
closed, and then continued down the valley to the villages of the Inntal. We
were becoming very tired as we tramped on, and a misunderstanding about the
route, which way everyone was going, and how we would meet up again, led to us
losing Doug for a short time. I think this was a major contributing factor to
his decision to leave us the following day. The weather broke as we arrived in
the village of Baumkirchen and we were lucky to find a friendly bar keeper who
let us camp on her terrace while the thick and heavy rain stormed harmlessly
above us. The number of flies here was abominable, but Christian le Couchon,
(so called because he snored like a pig), rapidly racked up the highest number
of squashed flies, even squashing one on the beer mat I had carefully laid atop
my beer glass, (especially to keep the flies out).
The next day, although the landlady had said she would like to have a photo of
the group of us in our walking kit, (knowing we were a group of naked hiders),
she let out a good natured squeal as Russ and I both went to remove our shorts
to oblige, (we weren't wearing anything else at that point). So it was back to
the more traditional, dressed, group photo. We were sad to see Doug leave us
this morning, and we set off up the other side of the Inn valley, behind
Volders, down one more man. Rather than following the original route of a
gentle path next to the river, we took an alternative route, this led instead
to us getting lost high up a forest filled river gorge. Back-tracking out of
here, we made our way up to a proper road, and followed this instead in
zig-zags past a number of farm houses, tramping along the unforgiving tarmac.
At one farmhouse the occupants laughed as we passed by and called out: "This is
a very catholic land, you know!", but good humouredly and with broad smiles.
We lunched at the Voldertallhutte Naturefreundehaus and, after a good rest, we
took a contouring route up to the huts on the side of the ridge. The gasthofs
at this place were all closed and I reluctantly agreed we could go yet higher
to another hut. We set off again, tramping along an easy forestry track, and
came to a thin trail leading to a hut set on the side of a steep slope. The
places the alpine farmers build their huts and houses are truly remarkable,
nearly defying gravity, let alone considering all the snow in the winter they
have to contend with. We watched as far below, in the valley we had just left,
a family worked to gather in the hay from a field near the river. Next we set
off for the long grind up the steep slope behind us, through fields of juniper,
occassional flies would gather as we sweated our way up the hill. The air
chilled, as the sun dipped behind the hill, which made the steady pace easier
to bare. Finally we reached the contouring path which took us easily around to
the Tulfeinalm. The view down to Innsbruck and up and down the Inntal, were
stupendous in the late afternoon sunlight, and as the gasthof appeared closed
we were happy to make ourselves comfortable on the available terrace. As with
most exhausted walkers, once you stop, the kit just spreads all around, over
all the available benches, chairs and tables. While we had expected the
gasthof to be open, (they couldn't all be closed on the same day), and found it
closed, we all pooled our available emergency rations, and had a hearty meal of
salami, cheese, soup and tea. A kingly feast indeed. Just as we were getting
comfortable and thinking about under which table to set our sleeping bags,
along came the owner of the gasthof, and loudly demanded to know just "What the
**** are you doing on my terrace? This is not a camping site!" We could not
mollify the man, even when we bought a round of beer, so we packed up and set
off to look for somewhere to camp for the night. As we trudged along the
track, which contoured along the high ridge, the sun dipped behind the
Karwendel to the north, a most beautiful sight. However we had more urgent
business at hand, we had to find somewhere to sleep - the tumble of steep rocks
was reminiscent of the top of Scafell and an ant would have a hard time finding
a place to site a tent up here, at 2000m. I used my handy/mobile to call the
operator to put me through to the hut marked on the map as another couple of
kilometres along the ridge, to see if I could find out firstly if it was open,
and secondly whether they had space for us. Fortunately our luck had improved,
and the hut warden was friendly and welcoming, we all managed to just arrive at
the hut at last light.
After a good nights sleep, with at least 3 Couchon snoring through the night,
we set off down towards the Meissnerhutte for an early apfelschoerle, passing
our first really grumpy looking couple along the way. Now we followed forestry
routes and met several happy cyclists as they toiled up and we strolled down
the tracks. One couple were particularly friendly and stopped to chat for a
short while. Of course they asked us what we were doing, were we a nudist
group, where we protesting, etc. but seemed quite content when we explained
that we were just out for a pleasant walk, with none of the hot and sticky
clothes that they were so clearly covered in. They understood what we meant,
but would rather not join, for the moment, thank you very much, as the bicycle
seats might not be quite so forgiving without the padding...
We tramped on in a southerly direction and, apart from a stupid decision of
mine which had a suitably retribution-like ending when the fence I was climbing
over collapsed and the barbed wire tore my leg, the rest of the walk went
fairly smoothly until we stopped for a late lunch at St. Kathrein. The storm
clouds gathered depth above the trees around us and after a good rest we set
off under a dark sky. We had just reached Tienzens, in 3 different groups,
when the heavens opened and Russ, Chris, Christian and I scuttled into a barn
for cover, Konrad was still nowhere to be seen. We later found he had been
waiting 100 m away next to a nearby church the whole time. The rain pummelled
down, and we made ourselves comfortable in the dry and dusty field barn. We
were nearly comfortable. After an hour or so, the rain eased and we headed for
Steinach. Because it was still raining and quite cool, I put up my umbrella
and the other 2 wore their rain jackets. I've walked naked in snow, and in
the rain too, but it was just a bit cool for me at that time, Christian was the
only one game enough to continue naked. When we got to Steinach the rain just
got heavier and we were lucky to find a friendly Pizza restarateur who found us
all a room for the night.
The next day we set off and contoured through thick forests, in the narrowing
valley past Stafflach and on to Gries am Brenner, before the last grunting
climb up towards the Italian border. We had hardly seen a soul the whole day
long, while walking, a huge difference from the Piccadilly Circus-like
atmosphere of the Karwendel near Scharnitz of several days before. We reached
the Sattelalm exhausted but happy. Our goal was in reach, just behind the
trees ahead. The Sattelalm nestles on the Austrian/Italian border just beneath
the Sattelberg, and has a stupendous view of the Wolfsdorn to the south east.
Here we split into 2 teams. I stayed at the Satttelalm gasthof overnight with
Russ and we finished the next day by descending to the Brenner pass train
station and returning to Munich after a short walk the next day. The other 3
continued on to the Enzianhutte that evening, arriving tired but with some good
mileage behind them, to get to Vipiteno at midday the following day.
Of the team, 5 of us had reached the border, 2 of the original 7 had dropped
out enroute, in part because of the pace, perhaps the walk had been a bit hard
with a group who were not familiar with one another's strenghs and weaknesses,
or characters. All in all though, NEWT 2006 was a superb mountain hike,
through some of Europe's most fantastic mountain scenery, and we had all
enjoyed the walking, as well as each others company, and to do it all naked was
a very special feeling that is difficult to put into words.
In addition to my report of the main hike here, a couple of the other
participants also put finger to keyboard:
Chris wrote-up the last day to Vipiteno
Christian's complete report (in French)
Although a very, very few of the people we encountered expressed a silent
disapproval of some kind, the vast majority were positively, and vocally,
approving of the sight of our little group of naked men tramping along a busy
mountain trail. One man tut-tutted at as he rode past on his bike, but I
wasn't sure if it was the naked man he was disapproving of, or the probably
non-colour-matching umbrella, (which was busy being a very efficient sun shade
at the time). The vast majority of the women-folk were positively
enthusiastic, not exactly what one might at first suspect, given society's
general paranoia about nudity, but a pleasant and rewarding response all the
same. Mostly, seeing a few naked people seemed to add a little spice to
everyone's day, and perhaps to refresh their outlook on life for a short while.
Christian, driving naked all the way from France to start the walk, was stopped
enroute by the Italian police who thoroughly inspected his car and talked with
him for perhaps 15 minutes, were not phased - on the contrary, they behaved
courteously to this naked foreigner in their midst and finally waved him on and
bade him a safe journey. Overwhelmingly the reaction we recieved from people,
even considering their quite natural surprise, was positive and enthusiastic,
and we weren't a pretty sight by anyone's standard. A good time was had by
all.
To register interest in the next Newt 2008 check the Naked Europe web
site or send an email to newt.2008[at]nakedeurope.org
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