Southerners Lost In Austria
By Beverly Cleary

This story is an account of our trip with the Mannheim International Ski Club to Innsbruck, Austria, in 1984.

Morning dawned beautiful in Innsbruck. Shopping was first on the agenda, then off to a festival advertised by the hotel, then on to the Olympic bobsled run. My husband Jack got a map and the hotel personnel showed us how to go to thie festival in Inglis. We boarded a small bus and set out. We arrived in Iglis only to discover, after the bus dropped us off, there was no festival there that day.

We asked some local people how to get to the bobsled run. They told us there was a cable car just two minutes down the road. Again we started out. The two minutes turned into ten, all up hill, of course.

After a frightening ride on a cable car at the Zugspitz Mountain in Germany, I was not enthused about riding a cable car again. However, this cable car was not so far off the ground so I figured, if it fell, we probably wouldn't get killed - just maimed.

Off we went on the cable car. At the first stop, the man said the bobsled run was just a 2 minute walk to our left. We started walking but that route was a cliff-like hill so we turned back, found a trail going down at an angle and took it instead. That took us about 15 minutes. There was to have been an International Bobsled competition but when we arrived it was either over or it never was. So, we walked the run and watched a professional driver, a brakeman and three screamers taking rides for a fee.

We started back and my husband with map in hand said, "I think we can just walk back to catch the bus instead of going back up to get the cable car." We walked another 15 minutes and finally reached the restaurant where the World Cup bobsled trophy was kept. BUT, there was no bus. The closest was Iglis. The "map person" claimed, "It's not too far - we'll just walk down following the cable car route."

So, again we started walking down the road. There were two roads to choose from and the "map person" said we should take the one to the right. After about a half hour, I asked him how his Italian was because I was certain we were going the wrong way. After another 15 minutes, it started to snow. I then asked the "map person" if he had our passports, certain we had crossed a border.

The snow got heavier and as we topped a small hill the "map person" said, "There's a village - must be Iglis." As we drew nearer, we saw a sign proclaiming "Lanz". Well, the "map person" got out that trusty map again. By now we'd been walking an hour and my snow boots weighed 75 lb each. When we looked at the map, Lanz was here and Iglis was there. We had walked in the opposite direction.

Oh well, at least it was a town and towns have transportation. We would just ask one of the locals where to get either a bus or taxi. Alas, there was a large funeral in the church cemetery. All restaurants were closed and not one soul was visible anywhere on the streets except at this funeral. Well, we couldn't bother people in mourning so on we trudged. Finally, as we were running out of village, we saw a man across the street, so we crossed over. Jack asked in his best German where we could get either a bus or taxi back to Iglis. The "villager" shook his head. He didn't understand German or English because he was Russian!

Now, I just KNEW we had walked too far and we would never be heard of again. Again, we trudged on and I kept one ear open for the sound of snarling German Shepherds and one eye open for searchlights.

It was dusk and at the very edge of the town we finally found an open restaurant. We went inside and asked again about a bus or taxi. They had neither but they did have a Bahnhof or train station. We were overjoyed. We relaxed and asked how far. It was just down the hill about 2 minutes.

By now, however, they couldn't fool me anymore with that line. I knew it was at least 15-20 minutes. Anyhow, we had a glass of hot gluehwein and headed out. The train wasn't due for another half hour, but the "map person" wanted time to get the tickets and I wanted to pick up some film.

So, we started out and about 10-15 minutes later (see, I was right), we came around a curve in the lane and there standing beside a railroad crossing sign was their Bahnhof - a shed slightly larger than those school children wait in for a bus. I thought, if this train comes and the cars are cattle cars, I am not getting on. I remembered World War II.

After waiting about 10 minutes in the dark, the snow and the cold, a man and woman wearing long fur coats and large fur Russian hats approached. Fortunately, they walked right by the shed. I said to the "map person", "Perhaps we've stumbled onto something the military should know about."

Finally, two little elderly Austrian ladies came to the shed. Jack talked to them in German and they said the train would be there in about 2 minutes. After about 15 minutes, we heard the train coming. It came and went - right by the shed. Jack asked the ladies why it didn't stop. They said it had to go down to the foot of the mountain, turn around, and then come back by; but it wouldn't take long. I was waiting for them to say 2 minutes and I was going to have to hurt them.

Finally, it came back up the mountain and we all got on. It was just a tiny, narrow train - one seat faced the other - one row on each side of a narrow aisle. We started down. The path was so narrow that the trees touched both sides of the cars most of the time. All through the mountains (dark as the inside of a cow) were little stop signs - no roads or houses - just little stop signs. The train stopped at each of these and opened the doors but no one got on.

Finally, we saw the lights of Innsbruck. We pulled in to a station only to find that we had to change trains to get back to our hotel.

We were to get of at Maria Theresa Str. The car stopped and let people off once, rounded a curve and there was our hotel!! The car zoomed right by it, and went to the end of the street before it stopped again. We had to walk all the way back to the other end of the block.

Finally, back safe and sound, I pledged never to go into the mountains again with a man who follows cables and believes people when they say "It's just 2 minutes down the road."

Beverly Cleary