FOLLOWING THE
MOUNTAIN’S RHYTHM

The early start is worth it. Together with the guide, the sunrise hike begins. Step by step toward the sun and then it happens: first rays climb over the ridge, slow and patient. Through binoculars, chamois appear in the rock faces. Homemade little bites and invigorating herbal tea. Warmth on the skin. Curious cows along the way. A quiet agreement: good to be here, right now. Look. Breathe. Feel.

Back at the house, a rare clarity hangs in the air. One breath, one step from the terrace onto the still-damp meadow. Wildflowers open; their scent sits heavy and earthy in the morning. Bees are already at work, their hum becoming the day’s undertone. The sky, wide. The peaks, calm as they have been since the beginning. Not a soul in sight.

In ezzan: fresh bread, hand-churned butter from the alpine neighbours, homemade jams. Fruit, picked down in the valley. House-made granola, sourdough bread from the oven. The gaze gets lost in the green of the meadows and in the meditative sound of cowbells.

The body has already been out. A pleasant after-warmth remains and with it, permission to do nothing. A nap. A good book. Or simply sitting on the terrace, watching the day pass by. While hikers move past the house, a quiet certainty settles in: the most important thing has already happened. Clouds drift over the forest; the weather becomes a gentle companion.

Sooner or later, hunger stirs. A light summer salad. Dumplings, the way they should be. Perhaps a slice of cake – a buchtel. It is a holiday, after all. What grows outside is transformed inside: the little plant by the path, now on the plate. Nourishing, simple, exactly right.

In the afternoon, there’s one more pull to head out while others have to return to the valley, time remains up here. By mountain bike along alpine tracks, through forest passages, up and down. Movement without pressure, the gaze wide open.
And then: a mountain lake. Ice-cold, clear, alive. Sky-blue, meadow-green. Slip in, float, let the warmth of the day leave the skin. Feel the prickling. The mountain reflected in the water. Afterwards: drying on a stone, biting into an apple. Senses awake like rarely before.

The spa begins to call. The soft bubbling of the water, heavy eyelids on the loungers. In the hay room, on sound loungers floating once more, as if the mountain kept carrying on. Grandeur outside, calm within.

On the terrace, the light turns more golden. The day comes to a close with a cuisine that tells the story of mountain summer: reduced, honest, rooted. And above all: nourishing.

Heat fades, crickets sing. The sky becomes a great cinema. Alpenglow: the Zugspitze sinks into a deep red. A spectacle that stays. A glass of cool Austrian white wine at the lips. A day that wanted nothing and yet gave everything.