Latitude: 47.7° north
Weather: 6°C, ☀️
Sunrise: 07:48 Sunset: 16:50 (but locally, one hour later for sunrise and one hour earlier for sunset due to the mountains)
We left Vienna on a fast train heading for Salzburg, changing at Attnang-Puchheim to head to Bad Ischl. I was expecting a sleepy station, a slightly random changeover point on the main line to Salzburg, so the crush of people racing for the regional train south caught me by surprise. Our Airbnb hosts had been at pains to check that we were ok to stay in St Wolfgang off season, making sure we understood that everything would be closed, so I was pretty sure everyone else couldn’t be heading there.
We bagged a seat and, as the train rolled out of the station, the list appeared on the screen and I realised that it was carrying on to Hallstatt. Mystery solved. Hallstatt has become an Instagram favourite, a perfect sleepy mountain village on a lake, and would no doubt be idyllic in January – if not for the entire train full of people currently heading there.
As we headed south past the Ebensee, a fine mist started to descend over the lake and the far banks disappeared into the haze. The sky darkened dramatically, bands of cloud occasionally parting to reveal steep-sided, wooded hills. Without warning we broke out of the cloud into bright, hard-edged, midday sunshine – all strong contrast and dazzle. Stunning. Mountains ahead, hills to the side, wooden-roofed chalets and a stream running beside the train tracks.
Our journey up until now has been mainly flat. From the huge forested expanses and broad frozen rivers of Finland to the woods of Latvia and the wide open fields of Poland: big, expansive views and a continent-full of trees have been our companions. Czechia gave us rolling hills in the distance, but no sense of height close by. It was thrilling to look out at rock walls and to lift my eyes to follow pastures up, up, up to views of the distant summits.
A small handful of us got off at Bad Ischl and the train doors closed behind us, taking the packed train off in search of social media royalty. We walked out the front of the station and met the 546 bus, efficiently ready and waiting to take us the 30 minutes to St Wolfgang. Tourist nights in the Salzburg area come with a tourist tax – and the tourist tax then gives you a Salzburg card, in turn offering free travel on public transport. Utterly brilliant to be able to jump onto any of the buses that run up and down the valley, around the lake and ultimately on to Salzburg, without thinking about the cost or how to buy a ticket.
There was deep snow on the fields and on the north faces of the mountains and then, thrilling, around a corner, a dark blue lake ahead. Lake Wolfgang (Wolfgangsee).
In no time at all, we were jumping off the bus in beautiful St Wolfgang. Well – I say jumping. I’d like to think that I’m now pretty adept with my over-size rucksack, navigating on and off trains, across cities and around supermarkets without (yet) any casualties. However, getting it onto my back on a moving bus apparently means reaching the next skill level, so it was definitely an inelegant arrival. It’s getting near time to work out the logistics of sending home some of our arctic gear, and it will be nice to lighten the load a little!
We visited St Wolfgang about 15 years ago, fell in love, and had a short succession of visits over a few years to this beautiful little corner of the Salzkammergut. Lake Wolfgang itself is a beautiful blue lake, around 10km long and known for both its outdoor activities and also its relaxed approach to life. St Wolfgang the village sits on its northern shore, perched on the edge of the water, looking across to snowy ridges, forested crags and snowy pastures on the other side. At the heart of the village is its ancient and beautiful church, an important site for pilgrimages for centuries. Warmly lit at night, the church tower is a mesmerising sight, standing out in contrast to the ink-black lake and silhouette of the distant mountains.
Our lovely apartment had a terrace looking out over the snowy roofs of the village to the lake. Sheltered by a big solid chalet roof and facing almost due south; a gorgeous sun trap. We sat and ate lunch outside, sun on our faces, and could hardly believe our luck. Winter with light and warmth and glorious, mountainous views.
Out of season, everything in St Wolfgang really is closed – and so lovely for it. Gentle, peaceful, sunny – the perfect place to stop and breathe. There were a few people out and about in the village on a sunny Sunday afternoon. One cafe open, a shop selling soaps shaped like ducks and sheep and Frankfurters. There’s a small supermarket, a tabac, and a bunch of hotels who are taking a well-earned winter break. In a genius move, some of the local shops have installed vending machines outside for when they are closed. The first we found belonged to an incredibly beautiful bakery selling Lebkuchen. Next door to their ornate, heritage shop front: a shiny modern vending machine with fresh marzipan pastries. Not to be outdone, the tiny distillery in the heart of the village has gone one step further. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen a vending machine selling full-size bottles of beautiful local gin before. Brilliant.
The streets had been mainly cleared of snow, leaving behind thick bands of ice to dodge. In the heat of the strong winter sun, snow was melting off roofs and dripping onto pavements. Many of the buildings here and in Vienna had poles balanced against the walls to force you to walk further out, away from the danger of melting snow landing on your head.
We walked out along the lakeshore and beyond the village, soaking up beautiful views and feeling so happy to be here. Then retreated back to the apartment to watch the sun disappear behind the ridge line, the cold light of dusk making the mountains feel somehow closer. Gradually, the light left the lake, the mountains blurred into silhouettes, and we were treated to the shining wonder of a perfect starry sky.
A full day to enjoy and sunny weather meant that a long walk was on the cards. Our tickets got us a freebie bus ride to Strobl, a small, pretty village at the southeast end of the lake. Even sleepier on a Monday morning than St Wolfgang, and quiet enough that every single person we passed wished us a good morning with a smile. The warm sun had melted some of the snow yesterday, and a cold, clear night of low temperatures had frozen the newly-melted water into lovely sheets of ice. The walk through the streets of Strobl turned into a fun game of black-ice-or-water roulette.
Most cafes and shops were closed in Strobl for winter break. The small supermarket was open and sold Milka chocolate milk and crisps, so that pretty much covered all the major food groups needed for hiking. Walking towards the edge of the village, we came across another vending machine and wandered over for a closer look. This one was the hands-down winner for me, outdoing Lebkuchen and gin: local artisan ice cream. Three weeks into the trip and I hadn’t yet had an ice cream so this was a no brainer, and I wandered out of the village happily eating a delicious tub of chocolate. Brain freeze far less of a problem when the air temperature is also (just about) freezing!
The walk was an absolute joy from beginning to end. The fields and meadows by the lake were so unbelievably white: shiny, crisp, too-perfect expanses stretching way into the distance. Yaktrax back on, I was so happy to be back with the sound of my crampons gently crunching into the icy crust on the top of the snow.
Unlike the few sightings of the sun we had in the far north, this was not a pastel-beauty sunny day. Instead, we were treated to a deep blue sky and high sun, intense sunlight bouncing off the snow. After the last few weeks, this much light was a beautiful assault to the senses. Birds were singing in the warm sunshine, we crossed small streams running through trees, and there was a sense of awakening in the air despite the snow on the ground.
The walk took us along the lakeshore, past summer cabins and small farms. We passed cross-country skiers – some skiing on made tracks, others simply skiing the fields as the fastest route between villages. We sat and ate cheese by the lake shore, watching the water lap the rocks and looking back across to the beautiful church of St Wolfgang. We saw maybe 3 or 4 people in the 4 hours we were walking.
We jumped on a bus for the last couple of miles into St Gilgen for a brief coffee and explore. St Gilgen is known as the ‘Mozart village’ and leans hard into its links to the Mozart family. There’s a Mozart Square with a Mozart statue, a Mozart museum and the obligatory Mozartkugeln on sale everywhere. Ironically, Mozart himself never actually visited St Gilgen.
However, his mother was born there and his sister Nannerl lived there. I would have liked to visit the museum and see how much of her story it covers. She was a phenomenally talented musician – as much the child prodigy as her brother, touring Europe as a concert pianist from a young age until she turned 18, the age at which public performance was no longer deemed suitable. We know that she composed, but sadly none of her works remain. The museum was unfortunately closed, but it’s definitely somewhere I’ll visit if we come back again.
After another evening of sunset-watching and stargazing, we were supposed to move on this morning, maybe to Salzburg. We woke to another stunning day – blue sky, the early morning waves on the lake dying away to a mirror-calm beauty, a little haze over the ridgelines. It was simply too lovely to leave. So we didn’t!
We’ve spent a wonderful day being slow and peaceful, enjoying the ever-changing light over the lake. Icy at dawn, warming to blue water and softer surroundings through the day, and then a gorgeous warmth and reflection of the setting sun as we reached dusk. We’ve had coffee on the balcony, listening to the church bells chime and watching a sociable flock of mountain choughs circling the tower, squabbling on its roof before heading off across the lake. We mooched out to wander the small cobbled streets and enjoy a coffee perched on a stool in the window of the bakery. Later, we sat by the lake to watch the ripples (and the ducks). A gentle day of big, wide views, the peace of a quiet village going about its day, the feel of the sun on my face and the crisp taste of cold winter air. The sun has set now and the tiniest, most delicate crescent moon has appeared over the mountain ridge as the sky deepens into twilight aqua. Beautiful, dawn til dusk.
It’s always a risk to go back to somewhere you loved when you were younger but if anything, St Wolfgang is even more beautiful than either of us had remembered. Our hosts needn’t have worried: a quiet, sleepy village, closed for winter and taking its time over its days is everything we needed right now. A lovely break from the pace and noise of travel, a proper recharge for body and mind. Space to breathe, slow down and feel grateful.
