The weather is as perfect as forecast, and the cool breeze from the woods keeps the heat streaming towards the mounts from the lower regions in check. After a hearty breakfast and lots of coffee - I love huts where coffee isn't rationed like gold nuggets - I start alone, but I pass others and others pass me every so often. My blisters keep nagging me, so I'm not too disappointed when I learn that there's no room in the Karwendelhaus, my destination for the next day. So I decide early on to split today's mileage by half. There's a village halfway between my starting point and Hinterriss, where I originally planned to arrive tonight, and a glimpse into the internet tells me I should be able to find a room there.
The path mostly winds through the forest. The tree roots are slippery and some parts are steep, so it's really a good idea to keep focussed. When I reach the saddle, I have my first view at the rocky peaks of the Karwendel and the Central Alps.
The path down to Jachenau has some nice views, and two thirds down, it passes a waterfall with a wide basin, a popular spot also among day hikers, and since it's been warming up steadily, everyone takes a soak.
The beer garden at the restaurant at the edge of Jachenau is crowded. It becomes apparent just how popular the Munich-Venice route really is because it's difficult to find both a place and a spot to put your backpack. People are busy organizing a place to sleep and rearrange tour plans. After half an hour, like someone had given a start signal, I'm almost alone. I finish eating, drink another radler, then head towards the tourist office (which is the mayor's office) and ask for a place to stay. The secretary prints out three choices and gives me detailed pointers to each accomodation, that's service. Five minutes later I'm on my way to my room for the night.
The first impression is: old. Both the landlady, who has to be in her eighties, and the room. I'm not sure if anything has been changed there over the last fifty years, but it reminds me of the grandparents' homes when I was just a little kid, with the grey linoleum floor, walnut wood furniture and small single glass window. Now I'm no longer surprised by the cheap price, but I don't really need luxury anyway. I have a bed, a shower, and even a washing basin in the room, the latter a godsend for blister care...
I have time to kill since, so I walk back into the village, buy a coffee, eat cake, read a bit, read some more, buy another coffee, read again, go to a different restaurant and by a helping of utterly over-priced pork roast. I can't wait to resume hiking. My blisters could, though. I fear I'm about to get a problem. My heels are chafed raw, only moleskin and massive patches of band-aid keeping the rubbing bearable, and I'm also getting smaller blisters on my toes. Ouch. With all that and the band-aid padding, my hiking boots are getting uncomfortably tight.
But that's something to worry about tomorrow, tonight my feet can relax.