Blog Post

Sweet Valley High(Biosphere Reserve Grosses Walsertal)

Katrina Lobley • Jun 18, 2019

An article, published in Virgin Australia's travel magazine 'Voyeur', written by Katrina Lobley, travel writer from Sydney

Elisabeth Burtscher crooks an arm around her nine-year-old grandson, Levin. They’re engrossed in identifying the wildflowers and herbs sprouting from the alpine meadows of Austria’s Grosses Walsertal (the Great Walser Valley). Burtscher knows every fold and field of this ravine-like chink in the Alps that’s been home to Walser people since they arrived here from neighbouring Switzerland in the 13th century.

The resourceful Walser have somehow scratched a living as dairy farmers from these ridiculously steep slopes. It hasn’t brought riches – others have poked fun at their austere ways over the years - but now their intimate knowledge of this landscape is on show thanks to initiatives such as the Bergtee (mountain tea) project.

Burtscher, a Walser woman, is a driving force behind the project in which local women forage for wild plants, drying their pickings and transforming them into packaged tea. Those who head into the valley with Austrian Alps Active , a walking tour company formed by Burtscher’s son Patrick and his Australian wife Maree, will meet this wise woman and gather fresh wildflowers to make their own pot of mountain tea. “My connection is very strong … to the world of plants,” says Burtscher, explaining that both her mother and grandmother passed down to her their knowledge of the valley’s flora and its medicinal uses.

“We’re collecting old wisdom,” she says, promptly giving an example. “We never go out and pick before the bees have what they need. We don’t need to tell anyone in the valley – everyone knows, ‘Don’t pick the flowers unless the bees have enough’.”

She arranges the pickings - dandelions, daisies, blackcurrant leaves, red clover, lamb’s tongue, stinging nettles and more - on a delicate heirloom tablecloth before throwing a selection of seven flowers, herbs and leaves into a pot and steeping them in hot water. The brew is as green as envy but a revelation that you can make tea from just about anything nature provides.

Experiences such as these are part of the reason Patrick Burtscher wants his home valley to become more widely known. “People say, ‘I know Austria - I’ve been to Salzburg and Vienna’,” he says. “I always felt, ‘C’mon, there’s so much more to see.”

He’s right. His company’s 10-day classic walking tour involves a thorough exploration of the valley, plus a few side-trips beyond the Grosses Walstertal. Guests are based in Faschina, a tiny ski village perched above Fontanella – Patrick’s home village before he moved to Melbourne after meeting Maree (they now swing between these two home bases). From Faschina, it’s easy to make like the dairy cows that chime out a symphony with their neck bells as they traverse the slopes. The village is the gateway to high-altitude backcountry bejewelled with alpenroses – deep-pink rhododendrons. It’s also where you find cosy mountain restaurants such as Franz Josef Hütte. “We’re seeing the Emperor today,” jokes Patrick, referencing history when speaking about the hütte’s eponymous owner, Franz Josef Konzett, who’s all twinkling blue eyes as he pours out shots of pear schnapps.

Martha’s Hut (officially Breithorn Hütte), on the other side of the valley, is another charming lunch spot – it leads to a sonic trail complete with an echo wall. Hikers can yell through a megaphone at a nearby mountain and hear their voice bounce straight back at them. At the other end of the lunching spectrum is the grander Rothenbrunnen Inn, which stacks its napkin-wrapped cutlery in the neat manner of an Austrian woodpile. The inn, fronted by two soaring maple trees and a tiny chapel, sits near an iron-rich spring that’s stained the stones rust-red. It serves hearty “farmer’s toast” topped with speck and grilled mountain cheese.

Cheese is something of an obsession in the valley, thanks to those glorious flower-rich alpine meadows (farmers in Vorarlberg can compete in meadow championships that acknowledge the rarity and variety of plant species in their meadows). Some dairy farmers shift their families and herds to an alpine base for the summer. It’s a big deal when the cows return to lower altitudes in autumn – they’re adorned with showgirl-like floral headpieces for an annual ceremony known as Alpabtrieb.

To buy a wedge of mountain cheese, so revered it’s known as the valley’s “white gold”, drop in to Sonntag’s Biosphere Park House that houses an exhibition alpine dairy, museum and café. The valley became a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve in 2000 in recognition of the role farmers play in maintaining their dazzling mountain landscape.

You can also enjoy rich, creamy milk – the sort that’s never sold in supermarkets - with breakfast at the Alpenresort Walsertal in Faschina, the base for Austrian Alps Active’s guests. The hotel is across the road from a dairy where, if you peep inside early in the morning while the roosters are still crowing, you’ll see cows being milked with their tails delicately pinned to one side.

Hilde Sperger, whose range of dirndls covers the entire colour spectrum, runs the four-star hotel with rooms that put you at eye level with the distant Rote Wand (Red Wall) peak that’s famous among climbers. Newer rooms feature a cosy window seat with views over the resident alpacas. It’s a short trot from the hotel to what’s easily the valley’s prettiest church: St Anna’s Chapel dates from around 1700.

Yet the tour includes eye candy for aficionados of modern architecture, too. If you think Austria is all chocolate-box facades, Vorarlberg’s avant-garde capital will force you to think again. Bregenz, fronting Lake Constance (or Bodensee), is one of Austria’s famed cultural cities. Opera lovers flock each summer to catch a production on the Bregenz Festival’s overwater stage. The city also houses an ingenious glass-skinned cube of an art gallery: blue-hued reflections off the lake are diffused into a soft interior light. Kunsthaus Bregenz is the brainchild of the uncompromisingly minimalist Pritzker Prize-winning Swiss architect, Peter Zumthor. But if it’s humour you’re after in a building, take a close look at the pimpled exterior of the nearby Vorarlberg Museum. What appears to be concrete blooms are actually casts of 13 types of plastic-bottle bottoms. Wild flowers, indeed.

By Catherine Marshall 05 Oct, 2019
"Never pick flowers in the springtime before the bees have sipped their fill of nectar", says Walser woman Elisabeth Burtscher, " and always leave the blooms alone when it has rained, for if they're sodden when you pluck them, they won't be able to transmit energy stored from the sun." "You don't need to tell anyone in this valley not to do this – they know it's the rule of nature," she says. "We don't just collect plants, we collect wisdom and healing." Elisabeth imparts this ancient knowledge as we walk through wildflower-speckled grasses in the village of Fontanella in Austria's western-most province, Vorarlberg. Tucked between Lake Constance and the Austrian Alps, this region encompasses Grosses Walsertal, or Big Walser Valley, a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve and European Destination of Excellence which has been inhabited by the Walser people since they arrived here from neighbouring Switzerland in the 14th century. Settling in the high Alps – beyond the reach of meddling authorities – the Walsers forged a winter-toughened, hard-working, resourceful mountain culture of which Elisabeth and her family remain guardians today. So devoted is her son, Patrick Burtscher, to his Walser heritage (and the mountains which moulded him), he returns here each year from his adopted home, Melbourne, with his Australian wife Maree and their two young children, Levin and Kiera. The couple run a Nordic Walking academy in Australia but, come spring (and, as of next year, winter), they change codes, guiding guests on alpine walks through Grosses Walsertal with their boutique company, Austrian Alps Active. This is Patrick's childhood playground. He spent his earliest years exploring these mountains, became Austria's youngest ski instructor at just 16 and was principal of the local school. It's a homecoming of sorts for Maree, too. After meeting Patrick in Australia she spent two years here with him, exploring a little-known pocket of Austria interlaced with unblemished rivers and valleys, meadows and limestone peaks – and those flowers and herbs so cherished by the Walsers. Now Elisabeth is taking petals from paper bags and laying them on a lace cloth so old she fears it will fall apart if she touches it. She encourages me to do the same. "I could prepare easily a table like this as you have in a buffet, but you have to do it yourself," she instructs. "It's very important for you to do things using both hands. These days you just spend hours and hours using one finger to move the mouse." And so I add my offerings to Elisabeth's botanical smorgasbord, and we select from it clippings with which to create pots of berg tea: stinging nettle and sage, blackcurrant and elderflower, dandelion and red clover and raspberry. The tea, drunk for aeons by the Walser people, is ambrosial and deeply soothing, tasting of nectar left over by the quenched bees. Outside, where the mountains yawn open to reveal secretive valleys, the air is mint-fresh. Across the ravine is the village of Marul, sinking slowly down the hillside each year. High above it, along a zigzagging road, is Alpe Laguz, gateway to the region's highest peak, Rote Wand. From here, one Alp impedes our view of the next. Their ice-licked peaks soar into the clouds from an earthly bed of emerald green. Nature's tableau is disturbed only by a scattering of summer huts and cows grazing on alpine grass and wildflowers. The herd's milk will be churned into organic Alpkase (cheese made from the milk of Alp-grazed cows) – the most coveted and lofty of cheeses produced in this biosphere. But the clouds are gathering about us now, a ghostly cloak erasing the view. Dewdrops speckle our faces as we wander up and over Garmil Pass, passing along the way Breithorn Mountain, whose limestone precipices are concertinaed together like organ pipes. "This is where the European and African tectonic plates collide, which is why the mountains are moving," says Patrick, explaining why that little village of Marul is subsiding into its lush foundations. The mountains are faint etchings behind the fog now, the elderflowers bright quivers in the grass. At Martha's Hut, which materialises fairytale-like from the mist, Martha Bickel is mixing elderflower spritzes and ladling kasknopfle, a traditional dish of pasta buttons and rich alpine cheese, on to our lunchtime plates. "If you don't finish the pot," she warns, "there will be bad weather tomorrow." We require no such inducement, for the brisk walk and crystalline air has sharpened our appetite. We return for seconds and knock them back with shots of home-made schnapps.
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