Austrian Ice Caves

I’ve come to the conclusion that people who post reviews on TripAdvisor are either all liars or top athletes. As the latter is very unlikely, I’m going with the former.

We are on our last phase of the trip, and take a detour to visit the Ice Caves or Eisreisenwelt, having read that they are well worth the diversion. TripAdvisor posts suggest bringing a long-sleeved t shirt as the caves can be cold, whilst others mention that it’s a bit of a walk to the cave entrance after taking the chair lift up the mountain.  We ride along more steep roads, more bends and curves and we arrive at our destination, shed what bike gear we can safely leave behind, dutifully pay our fees and start walking.

Well holy fuck! I’m sorry, but this is ridiculous. My legs are aching, the backs of my shins are on fire, the sweat is dripping down my back and we’ve only gone a few hundred metres! There’s a lot more of this pain to be endured before we reach the cable car, and even then, it’s a mere matter of exchanging one punishment for another!  My fear of heights means I’ve never been in a cable car before. The nearest I got was when I went on the London Eye with my kids a few years ago and they swore to never let me embarrass them like that again. I knelt on the ground, clutching the bench, crying and praying, and screaming at my children to come away from the window anytime I had the misfortune to open my eyes. I’m not really looking forward to this.

I use every strategy I know to manage my fear, mostly dwelling on a freind’s fantastic story about her own sad and sorry cable car journey where the ramshackle vehicle left her weeping and spent, sobbing into her husbands’ lap, whilst the locals misinterpreted her position and trembling as something far more lewd and interesting!

It’s a short cable car journey, and stepping off with wobbly legs, we look ahead at the narrow, pebbly path, to realise we still have a mountain to climb – literally.  Another hour of huffing and puffing; discarding layers only to put them back on because carrying them is too much hard work; suggesting we should really turn around because it won’t be that amazing anyway and the day is pushing on; threatening to cry and then actually crying, and then feeling shame as a family with several little ones briskly trots past us as they chatter and laugh their way up the vertical incline.

The views once we reach the mouth of the caves are spectacular. The air is so fresh and clean it makes your teeth fizz and face tingle. I’ve never felt air like it, and I gulp in huge lungsful of it as I sit on a stone, and feel the lactic acid begin to dissipate from my legs. The sun is out, and we have an incredible view over an extensive valley, split through the middle with a wide meandering river, and surrounded by woodland and conifer forests. It is truly spectacular, but NOTHING was worth that pain. I’d have been happy with the postcard.

We are very high up, so despite the warmth of the sun, our sweaty skin quickly chills, and the layers go back on just as the guide welcomes us to commence the tour.       

The tourists are separated according to English or German speakers, we are given an introduction to the caves, a lamp between two and told to walk in pairs. I have a moment of concern when I see that the first couple behind the guide are quite elderly. I’m worried they are going to feel under pressure to stay the pace (or even set it), and silently commit to ensuring they’re OK.

Photos aren’t allowed in the caves, which is a real pity as it is pretty much indescribable. They are vast, and we only saw one of the 42 kilometres of the cave network. There are more steps to be climbed, primitive wooden slabs knocked into a metal system that brings us around the main ice mounds. The science behind it is explained (something to do with temperature and wind, but I wasn’t really listening), and at times we stand in awe at giant formations and enormous stalactites, the height of a three storey house, the length of a truck, to be told these only appeared in the last few months. The wonder of nature and all it can do is frightening. At the end of the day, who do we think we are to imagine ourselves powerful and influential when the wind and rain can create this with no effort or interference?

Obviously there is no electricity inside the caves and our kerosene lamps shed little light. The wooden slabs beneath us bounce intermittently and I have a terrible fear of falling into the lakes of ice, sinking between crevices, never to be seen again. I think about those Thai boys stuck in a cave for days on end, and wonder how they managed the fear of the darkness, the terror of the unknown.

There is a lot of climbing involved, steep steps at 45 degrees, apparently the equivalent to 40 stories. We stop periodically to catch our breath and our guide lights a flare to illuminate the views and explain some geographical rarity or historical event. GG is fascinated, but by now, my feet are damp and my toes frozen; my hands smell from grasping the metal barriers and my nose is running; my lips are chapped and my legs ache but mostly, I’m hungry! Starving in fact. Breakfast was a long time ago and I’ve climbed the equivalent of over forty houses since then!

When we re-emerge into the daylight and the spectacular views of the mountains and valley, I’m hugely relieved to be out of the cold and darkness. The ice caves are an amazing natural wonder, and I’m glad to have seen them, but I was uncomfortable in the eerie vastness of the dark and untouched atmosphere.

An hour later and my legs are still trembling, whether that’s from the cold, or the fear, or muscle spasm brought on by overuse of under-utilised body parts, who knows! I rant about the misinformation on trip advisor, how they didn’t advise on the need for multiple layers; how no one advised to put a chocolate bar in your pocket or to be sure and wear gloves; and mostly how none of them explained you have to be an endurance freak to manage the physical challenge of climbing all those steps.

We gently amble back down the mountain, stopping for a bowl of delicious goulash along the way. I’m still aching but beginning to feel proud of myself and my athletic prowess, until I remember the elderly couple from the tour. They passed us out long ago skipping past us down the steep path, eager for their next adventure. Good on em!