Galloping Through Austrian Hills

If the key to understanding a country and its people is to explore the countryside, there’s no better way to plumb the pastoral soul of Austria than on horseback. In fact, short of hiking, there is no other way to penetrate the distant Alpine meadows and rugged mountain peaks.

With only the steady rhythm of equine footfalls and the sound of the wind in your ears, you might recall the words of the Dauphin in Shakespeare’s “Henry V”: “When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk; he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it.”

That is, right up until our guide and tour leader Hannspeter Gantner’s announcement in near-flawless English: “Ladies and gentlemen, the Sunday morning gallop!” Gallop? I looked around to see if I had misunderstood--we hadn’t even trotted yet.

Before I had time to compose myself, or my quaking hands, 16 horses exploded forward with pounding hoofs, grunting and breathing hard. My own mount, Sternchen, a small but spirited horse whose name means asterisk , took off with an impressive display of hind-end muscle. I caught my breath and clutched hunks of mane as glimpses of chalet-style houses and pastures of large cows flashed by.

Just as suddenly the horses stopped and began sneezing and stamping, shaking their heads and their long, tangled manes. At the head of the line, Hannspeter Gantner turned with a mischievous twinkle and surveyed the riders.

An athletic man with merry eyes and a reddish beard that set off a puckish face, the 47-year-old Gantner has led groups of riders on weeklong journeys through Austria’s Kitzbuehel Alps for nearly 10 years. More recently he has added the Grossglockner tour (named for the country’s highest mountain) and the Wachau trip, a fast-paced trek along the Danube.

Hannspeter keeps between 30 and 40 horses at his stable and riding school in Neukirchen am Grossvenediger, a small town in western Austria nestled between the Kitzbuehel Alps and the Hohe Tauern range beside the Salzach River. The setting is superb: lush pastures flanked by soaring limestone peaks. Even in late summer, glaciers are visible, frozen high in the summits.

The night before the ride begins, Hannspeter hosts a festive dinner at a local restaurant, all the while proffering advice (“When we gallop, don’t yell--I can’t tell the difference between ‘Yippee!’ and ‘Help me!’ ”). He is fluent in English, though his jokes--raucously received by the German speakers--are rather puzzling in translation, much to his disappointment.

Ours was a diverse group that gathered in the early autumn of 1989 to explore the Alps near the famous ski resort of Kitzbuehel: several German couples, three Austrians, four German-speaking Swiss natives (including a couple in their 50s) and two Americans. Some hadn’t been on a horse in years.

I was hoping that a vacation on horseback would provide the ideal complement to three days a week of riding in a ring.

Early that first morning at the stable, Hannspeter made sure that everyone had been assigned a suitable mount and that the horses were properly saddled. He was full of wild tales, like the time an Italian rider mounted his horse from the wrong side and with the wrong foot, only to discover that he was facing backwards.

The horses, who had spent the night in a pasture, were filthy, their shaggy bellies caked with mud. After vigorous attempts at grooming, we gathered in a field to get accustomed to our horses, who were mostly indifferent to our crude commands.

Though they were not finely bred, the horses were hardy, strong and sure-footed--not inconsiderable assets on the steep mountain trails. There were mixtures of the heavy European warm-bloods and smaller breeds, plus thoroughbreds, a plucky Icelandic pony and several Hafflingers, the sturdy Tirolean mountain ponies.

There was even a proud white Lippizaner, a new addition to the stable. Appropriately, he was given to Charlotte, a flight attendant from Vienna and a skilled rider. Gantner’s own horse, Marco, has been with him for nearly 20 years. All the horses heeded his commands with alarming haste.

With a simple “aufpassen “ (pay attention) from Hannspeter, they pranced and snorted, waiting for a signal before they leapt forward in a flat-out run. By the end of the week, the mere whisper of an “aufpassen “ was enough to send a shudder of panic through the more timid riders.

By the second gallop of the morning, the horses had settled into their paces. I was getting used to the exhilarating sensation of speed; Sternchen was racing ahead at every available opportunity, cutting off the other horses.

After a climb past hikers out for a Sunday walk and fields of stout pigs and more cows, Hannspeter led us splashing through a river and then to a pasture. Unsaddled, the horses rolled in the thick grass, grunting contentedly.

After a leisurely lunch, Hannspeter showed the way back to the valley. Tomorrow, he explained, we would leave Neukirchen.

By 10 the next morning, we had already endured three head-clearing gallops. Though our luggage was usually transported separately by car to our nightly destination, we packed saddle bags for this night, which would be spent in a mountain inn at Wildkogel, a peak that rises about 7,000 feet in the distance.

As the horses climbed higher and higher, the rich pastureland alongside the trails gave way to stands of pine. Up a narrow winding path, there was only low grass the color of burnished gold--a lonely, moorlike expanse high above the valley.

We stopped at the Wildkogelhaus for lunch--bread and cheese, Tiroler-Grostl, a Tirolean specialty of meat and potatoes, Wiener schnitzel and Kaiserschmarren, a pancake-like dessert, and, of course, tall glasses of cold beer. Much to the delight of the patrons dining on the lodge’s wide terrace, the unsaddled horses wander freely in the sloping meadows nearby. A paraglider floated past, like some huge, brightly colored bird against the deep green ridges across the valley. The Salzach River was a shaft of silver far below.

Farther up the ridge, we were the only guests in a remote, rambling inn with a paneled dining room dominated by enormous picture windows. Outside, the rocky landscape was carpeted by a mossy ground cover and spears of gold-green grass. The quiet was punctuated by the occasional echo of a distant cowbell. Mostly, there was only the sound of the wind.

Dinner is a feast of roasted goose. And in a scene that is repeated night after night, rounds of beer and schnapps are ordered as the revelry builds--laughing, talking, telling stories. Amazingly, no one seems to have sore muscles--the hearty after-ride drinking may well prove a compelling antidote to pain.

The third morning was cloudless and cool; breakfast en masse was jovial. Having finished his coffee, Hannspeter ordered a Weissbier, a sweet-tasting ale typically served with white sausages as a second breakfast in Bavaria--a delightful custom from his native Germany.

At 9:15, the horses were well-groomed--hoofs picked, coats brushed, manes untangled, minor scrapes attended to--and we were off, over the other side of the ridge to a lush valley. By mid-morning we stopped at an old farmhouse, where a group of schoolchildren was visiting. Several of them called out Hannspeter’s name and ran to pet the horses.

We went inside for glasses of cold milk or beer and plates piled high with slabs of cheese and bacon on hearty bread. In the cool, damp cellar, shelves were lined with rounds of Edamer-type cheese and the pungent Pinzgauer variety of the region.

After a long, slow ride through a forest, we emerged again in the valley. Far in the distance, above the village of Hollersback, was our destination: the Gasthof Berghof, a handsome inn situated on a grassy plateau.

Hannspeter led the way right through the middle of town, much to the amazement of motorists. Visitors took pictures as we clattered past. A man rose from a chair in his garden and held out a glass of wine. Monika, Hannspeter’s assistant, trotted her horse over for a drink. Children stood and stared. Hannspeter beckoned to all.

After dinner that night, Hannspeter engaged in a bit of self-promotion--home movies of his trips that include scenes of riders saddling up horses and promptly tumbling off, hair-raising gallops along the Danube, dizzying climbs through pelting rain near the Grossglockner.

Those vertiginous mountain passes would be all too familiar the following day--the week’s longest ride climbs to more than 6,000 feet, crossing narrow, rock-strewn paths and Alpine streams. Despite some sliding of hoofs and a tumbling of stones below the trail, the horses were sure-footed and remarkably calm.

After a picnic, we slogged through mud and slippery grass across a steep ridge. Hannspeter was oddly reassuring as he blazed a zigzagging trail back down to the valley, a beer in one hand and the reins in the other, reminding us to watch the footing and pay attention to the magnificent view. Hip joints aching from the slow descent, I dismounted along with a few other riders and walked Sternchen down the rocky paths by hand.

The following morning, Hannspeter donned a farrier’s apron and replaced several horseshoes to ready for the ride home. Suspecting that the end was in sight, the horses bounded off into the mist. Sternchen bolted forward, bucking athletically. “Let her run,” Hannspeter called out.

Along the way, we had an impromptu equitation lesson at a makeshift dressage arena on the side of the road. It was an improbable sight: Hannspeter standing solemnly at the center, shouting commands in German to the horses, who scrambled in a drunken circle, each straining to pass the horse in front. I tried to keep my shoulders back and my heels down, sure that my riding teacher at home would be appalled. “Very good, U.S.A.,” Hannspeter said charitably.

On the breakneck gallop back to the stable, the horses outdid themselves. Sternchen careened recklessly along a curving road lined with trees while I hung on, ducking low branches and straining to see through the dirt and pebbles that flew up from the hoofs of the horses in front of us.

Hannspeter yelled from the head of the line. Lifting my head, I saw a man walking a dog up the road. This seemed like a good time to close my eyes and hang on. At the last moment, the horses veered onto a swath of grass and narrowly missed running them down. Hannspeter whooped and saluted as we thundered past.

Back at the stable, the horses were unsaddled for the last time and impatiently settled down to the business of eating. The riders languished at long tables, looking dazed yet satisfied.

The farewell dinner at a restaurant in Neukirchen was uncharacteristically subdued. Stuffed beavers and a row of predatory-looking game birds looked on with glassy eyes as Hannspeter stood to make a short speech.

Remarking that he had some old horseshoes to get rid of, he handed out photographs of each of us taken on the first day of the trip. The pictures were framed by two horseshoes welded together, with bits of hay and dirt still plastered to them. An eloquent reminder of Hannspeter Gantner and Austria.

GUIDEBOOK

Austria by Horseback

Getting there: Pan Am, TWA and Lufthansa fly from Los Angeles to Munich, the most convenient international airport to the town of Neukirchen am Grossvenediger. Round-trip coach fare, with 30-day advance purchase, is about $1,130. From Munich, it’s about two hours by train to either Innsbruck ($46 round trip) or Salzburg ($42 round trip). From either city, take a direct train to Zell am See: from Innsbruck, it’s 1 1/2 hours ($30 round trip); from Salzburg, about 1 1/2 hours ($25 round trip). The local narrow-gauge train from Zel am See reaches Neukirchen in just over an hour (about $14 round trip). Hannspeter Gantner or his wife, Margit, pick up all guests at the train station in Neukirchen.

Arranging the trip: “The Alps of Kitzbuehel” ride can be booked in the United States through FITS Equestrian, 2011 Alamo Pintado Road, Solvang, Calif. 93463, (805) 688-9494 or (800) 666-3487. Or contact Hannspeter directly at Reitschule Gantner, A-5741 Neukirchen am Grossvenediger, Austria, telephone 011-43-65-65-66-30. Cost of the eight-day, seven-night trip (six days of riding), which includes breakfast, dinner, accommodations and luggage transfer, is about $865 for a double room.

When to go: This year, the trip is offered every other week from June 22 to Oct. 5 (from Aug. 3-17 and Sept. 7-28 the ride is offered weekly).

What to know: All riders are expected to groom and tack up their own horses. English saddles are used and riders should be experienced in the English style. A rudimentary knowledge of German is useful but not essential.

What to bring: Breeches and high boots are most comfortable for long days in the saddle; rubber riding boots are both inexpensive and easy to pack. Since the region is known for unexpected summer showers, rain gear is advised. Also pack sunscreen, especially for the Alpine peaks. A belt pack is fine for carrying a camera and other necessities en route, and leather straps are handy for tying a jacket to the saddle.

Also recommended: a hard hat and a “seat saver” (a fleece saddle cover), available at saddlery shops.

For more information: Contact the Austrian National Tourist Office, 11601 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 2480, Los Angeles 90025, (213) 477-3332.