Loas escalope
The full splendor
EVERY STEP THAT IS TAKEN INTO THE SNOW ON THE WAY TO THE LOAS, AN INNER SILENCE NEARERS, WHICH MAY THEN EXPLODE IN THE PRACHTVOLLEN CULISSE. A REAL POWER PLACE IS THAT.
A horse should not be put up from behind and a story should not be told from behind, but in this case it is allowed. Because this moment brings the meaning so beautifully to the point. Anyone who turns on his own axis on a clear winter day at the top of the Loassattel knows what it's all about. The eye is forced to slow down its rotation because it can't get enough of the Karwendel mountains, which present themselves so proudly and powerfully from here that the superlatives threaten to overflow. Even die-hard mountain people, Tyroleans who grew up right in the middle of it and are seemingly immune to such alpine high feelings out of habit, have to pause for a moment in the face of it. And say a silent thank you.
When the turn is continued and the impulse to conquer the Kellerjoch or the Gilfert from here is suppressed by the snow, it is the opening into the nearby Zillertal that gives pause once again. The Hochfügen ski area sends out pictorial signals of a tourist universe that acts as an absolute antithesis to the here and now. So distant is this bustling hullabaloo that it fails to disturb the tranquility, but it does underscore the certainty, with a kitschy flourish, that no ten horses would make you want to swap places with any of the colorful dots on the slopes. Not today. The certainty of having taken the right path already sets in when the car is left behind at the parking lot on the road just before Pillberg with the click of the radio key. Already here one has an inkling of what this winter hike could hold in store. If there is a lot of snow - and this can be assumed almost fixed due to the sea level of the starting point of about 1,300 meters - then the forest road guarantees not to sink into the cool white, but to find a rhythm that calms the inner plumb step by step.
Two paths, one destination
If there is less snow, the hike in the direction of Loas can also be started via the "Path of the Senses", which starts just 200 meters above. Start is actually the wrong word for this circular trail, which was designed by numerous artists and promises "6,220 steps for the soul", since there is neither beginning nor end for a circle, no matter how irregular it may be due to the topography. However, if the path is chosen to reach the Loas, there is no need to think about it. Whether here or there, the destination is as clear as the sky, which at the beginning is still hidden above the trees. Slowly, in homeopathic doses, the mind is prepared for what is coming. The slope of the forest road is always gentle, a pleasant angle ensures that you don't get out of breath or even shock your bronchial tubes with cold air inhaled too quickly. Everything is gentle. The breathing, the slope, the snow on the forest floor and on the trees. It's good to be silent, it's good to talk, and everyone has to stop when the first view of the Inn Valley opens up. Innsbruck seems light years away and looks almost tiny in the face of the slowly rising mountains of the Karwendel. How fortunate that this mountain range marks the north of the state capital. Otherwise, the city would probably be a shady tragedy. Or it would have developed around the Bergisel.
A GOOD FEELING
At the latest, when the imagination gets so hopelessly tangled around earth, mountain and settlement history, you realize that the head has become free. Somewhere between the trees and snow walls at the edge of the path, the thoughts of everyday life are stuck, have melted away like snow on the forehead. It's a good feeling. Really good. Satisfied in this way with yourself and the world, you can find your way back to the rhythm of your stride, which only falters when, shortly before the Alpengasthof Loas, your legs tell you that it's getting steeper. This last stretch brings you back down to earth. Not because it is too strenuous, but because with the beautiful old house that seems to smile at you from a distance, earthly desires also spread. To call them profane because of the almost nature-drinking hike or the sublimity of the power place would be wrong, the epicurean rest at about 1,650 meters altitude yet again forms a highlight.
With cheeks flushed in the warmth of the parlor and fingers slowly recovering from the last snowball, the menu may be perused. Many things sound tempting, but although the font is neither larger nor in a different color, it is the Wiener Schnitzel that catches the eye. Yes, a Loasschnitzel it must be.
The LOASSCHNITZEL
"This has a long tradition. It was already with the father so", says Werner Wimpissinger, hut host in the alpine inn Loas and kitchen king of the most famous Schnitzel between Karwendel and Tuxer Alps. For ten years he has carried this responsibility with dignity and the necessary fun at the stove. Werner grew up in the Loas - more or less. "We were always there during the vacations and weekends," he says, referring to the "absences" during his school years. "That's where you grow into it, as it is. It goes smoothly." Flowing was the transition from father to son and flowing are the movements with which he prepares the schnitzel, for which in the summer not a few connoisseurs skip the hike to drive unsportingly driven by the desire directly to the hut.
What is the secret of the Loasschnitzel? "The pig. The cutting. The pounding and then sizzling it out on the open stove," he reveals. As natural as his handles come off, so does his grip on a knife and fork when the schnitzel is in front of you on your plate. Even if the plate on the Loas never marks a natural boundary for the schnitzel - the first cut always succeeds easily, and with the first bite into the crispy shell that encases the tender meat, the whole body breathes a sigh of relief. Yes, that's why this schnitzel is so famous. It's as all-around magnificent as the panorama that surrounds the alpine inn, which has an impressive dessert in store a little further along the way, at the Loassattel at the top. And easily it passes one's lips: The silent thank you.
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