Swallowtail Butterfly

Dear Readers, the walk that we attempted today has been a bit of a bête noire for me on the past few visits to Obergurgl. In 2023, I’d just learned about my heart defect and so turned back when it seemed to be putting too much of a strain on the old vital organ. 2024 I was laying on my sofa with a broken leg, watching the Olympics. In 2025 we turned back again because it was too hot, and again I didn’t feel up to it. But today was a cool, grey, breezy day, and I felt much better than in previous years, so off we went. And en route we saw my first swallowtail butterfly of the year. What an absolute beauty this one was! I took it for a good omen, and so it proved to be.

This isn’t a particularly gruelling walk, though there is some uphill at the start, and the paths are narrow and can be rocky or slippery. But just look at those waterfalls, tumbling down from the Seen Platte above. The whole walk rings to the sound of water pouring over rock. Today it was very quiet – many tourists aren’t coming to Obergurgl because the lifts are closed. On the whole walk out, we didn’t pass another person. We did, however, pass this really lovely pink fluffy Alpine Thistle – I don’t remember noticing it before, but it’s absolutely gorgeous, like something from a Pixar children’s movie.

It’s nice to have a few distractions on the way uphill, as an excuse to stop and get one’s breath, and this butterfly was just such an excuse. The Lepidoptera were most obliging today! I think this could be a Large Copper (Lycaena dispar) – this one is a male, the female having brown spots on her wings. It was declared extinct in the UK in 1864, but is doing well in the mountainous areas of Austria.

Phew! We make it up the first incline, and I stop to take a shot of the Hangerer mountain – you can walk up to the top if you’re ultra fit, but this year, landslides have blocked the path, so the summit is left to the marmots and the eagles.

Up we go….

And there’s a brief pause for Toblerone (other chocolate is available) and for me to admire another species of orchid, the Black Vanilla Orchid (Gymnadenia nigra). The Austrian Alps really are a plant lover’s delight.

And finally we get to the turning point of the walk. Am Beilstein is the site of an Alpine building (now fallen down) from about the 17th century, but the site has been in continuous use since at least 9,000 years ago, firstly as a hunting shelter and then later as a shepherd’s hut and a hay store. There’s a mysterious man sitting on the seat above it who is probably my husband 🙂

The view down the valley is spectacular. And there’s still a big chunk of snow over the river.

And then it’s the slow scramble home, across the rocks and past the Alpine Thistle again, arriving at the Zirben Alm for an Almdudler and a noodle soup. I’m feeling pleased that the ‘curse of Am Beilstein’ has been broken, and even more pleased that we’ve seen such wonderful butterflies and plants. Let’s see what tomorrow brings….

Dear Readers, John is more or less back in full operating order, so today we headed off to the village of Zwieselstain, just down the valley from Obergurgl. There’s a very pleasant walk from here down to the town of Sölden, and it’s a good leg-stretcher for the more serious walks later on. We always start at this extraordinary hotel, which seems to have taken pebble-dashing to a whole new level – maybe boulder-dashing?

But many of the chalets here are picture-perfect…

…and I love the warning signs that have sprung up, reminding people to be careful because there are children around. As everywhere, there are always some folk who drive like maniacs.

When you pass the meadows here, it’s hard not to be impressed by the massive rocks that have tumbled down, probably centuries ago. There are warning signs about falling rocks along this path, though I’m not sure exactly what you’re meant to do about them. Wearing a tin hat wouldn’t help much if something of this size was heading your way…

Up we go, and as I pass the local umbellifers I’m impressed by how many flies are pollinating them. A horse fly also landed on my arm, and I had a quick look at the rainbow band on its eye before noticing its puncturing mouthparts and shooing it away. Being bitten by one of these creatures is like being stapled. Sorry there’s no photo, but there is a limit to how far I will suffer for my art, Readers…

But having seen only one orchid yesterday, I was rewarded with hundreds in the woods today. They are absolutely stunning…

The spotted leaves seem to point to a Heath Spotted Orchid (Dactylorhiza maculata) which is often found in dry forests in Europe, so I’m fairly happy with my ID, though as usual also happy to be corrected by any orchid experts out there!

This narrow little path is also shared with mountain bikers – it was very quiet today, but I imagine it could be a lot of fun for all parties during high season.

I love seeing the variety of lichens on the branches of the larches here – this one is (I think) Usnea barbatus, or beard lichen. A slightly longer species, Usnea filipendula, is gathered to make full-body costumes for various carnivals in the Tyrol, and very scary they look too. These lichens only grow where the air quality is good.

Lichen body costume from the carnival at Telfs in the Austrian Alps (Photo Von AnHo71 – Eigenes Werk, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=39211138)

From here, we can see where we will later be going on the Gaislach lift…

but before we leave the woods, I have to pause to admire the Cobweb House Leeks, growing happily on a slab of rock.

Then it’s back onto a tarmac road, and down into Sölden, passing the garden with the interesting statue…

..and saying hello to the lawn-mowing robot, who has been mowing this lawn every time we’ve gone past for the last three years. What a hard-working little chap he is!

And then, the lift.  The Gaislachkoglbahn is in two parts, an eight person gondola, and a larger gondola that takes you to the top of the mountain, at over 3,000 metres. The lifts to the middle station are really closely packed and can take up to 3,800 people per hour, with some of the gondolas adjusted to take bicycles for the (truly terrifying) downhill run that adventurous people opt to risk their necks on. The second part of the lift takes you up to the top, and the ‘ice-Q restaurant and bar, which featured in the James Bond film ‘Spectre’.

The gondolas to the first station. Yikes!

It’s always a bit scary getting into the first cable car of the year but it’s amazing how quickly you get used to be transported in silence up into the mountains…

Though, the building season being as short as it is, you will sometimes get to 3,000 metres and find an earth-mover chucking rocks about…

…but the ice Q looks as elegant as always…

and then there are mountains, as far as the eye can see.

What a joy! Some people need to be close to the sea, or to forests,  but for me it’s mountains every time. Maybe I was a chamois or a marmot in a past life.

Well, Readers, the weather in the Alps is rarely settled, and so last night and today have seen some drizzle. I hardly dare to mention that the temperature is in the mid-sixties Fahrenheit, what with London being stuck in the high eighties for the next fortnight, and sympathies to all those at home who find these prolonged high temperatures difficult to cope with – my Dad and Mum both had heart and lung problems, and would have found the heatwaves this year very hard to bear.

But here we are, and John also has an upset stomach – often we seem to run full pelt until we get away on holiday, and then it all catches up with us. So, today we are taking things very easy indeed, which is actually rather pleasant. We both brought enough books to last us for six months, plus I have my knitting (another cardigan for my dear friend’s adorable baby boy), plus there’s the balcony to sit on and watch the swifts and house martins sailing past. And I can hear a chiff chaff as I write. This morning I video’d the clouds making their leisurely way up the valley.

This is a working village, so there’s always some building being renovated or rebuilt in the very short summer season (three months maximum, from July to the end of September if you’re lucky) so apologies for the happy sounds of saws in the background.

We go for a little walk into the village, I love the way that the plants are reclaiming the patches of tarmac around the hotels.

It’s sad to see the lifts standing unused. Lots of tourists are coming into the village to use the Hohe Mut lift, which will only open on 15th July, and then only the top section. Apparently there was talk of the lift not opening at all, but there are lots of weddings at the Hohe Mut restaurant, and you can pay for a special wedding gondola to take you to the top, all decked out with ribbons and roses, so clearly that would have been a big loss of income. Still, it’s a bit of a pain for the less fit amongst us, and it makes the areas that are still open ultra busy. The hotel owners are very unhappy with the whole thing. The one in the photo isn’t normally open in summer anyway. An opportunity missed, I think.

And then it’s back up the hill to the Hotel Olympia. I love the way that the Alchemilla leaves are hydrophobic, so all the water gathers in droplets.

And I do love finding a new plant – this. is Blue Honeysuckle (Lonicera caerulea), an Austrian native usually found in mountains, but also found in North America (where it’s known as Honeyberry) and in Japan, where it goes by the name of Haskap. I love how much I see when I slow down. When I visited the Alps when I was young(er) it was all about getting from A to B. Now, it’s much nicer to just wander and notice.

Further up the slope there’s a patch of Fox and Cubs (Pilosella aurantiaca), known here as Orange Hawkweed. It’s native to the mountainous parts of Europe, but can often be found in the UK – there’s a spectacular patch of it in St Pancras and Islington Cemetery, just along the road from me. It’s always nice to revisit with an old friend!

Fox and Cubs in St Pancras and Islington Cemetery in 2021

Dear Reader, it’s fair to say that all didn’t go quite as planned for our trip to Obergurgl yesterday – our plane diverted from Innsbruck to Munich due to an engine fault, and so we spent a lot of time sitting around waiting for our holiday company to pick us up and take us all the way to the far west of Austria. We’d booked our holiday with Inghams, who did an amazing job of not only getting us to our various Austrian resorts, but also getting the people who were trying to get home to Gatwick onto a plane that was now leaving from Munich.

No prizes to Easyjet, however, who basically marooned everybody at Munich and told them to find their own way to Innsbruck. They said they would reimburse ‘reasonable expenses’ but many people had small children, or mobility issues. One person was quoted 700 euros for a taxi from Munich to Innsbruck. I know Easyjet is a budget airline, but this seems pretty shoddy to me.

Anyhow! We arrived at the lovely Hotel Olympia at 10 p.m. – our taxi driver did the run from Innsbruck airport, which normally takes about 90 minutes, in just over an hour. In the dark. Just as well I’m not an anxious passenger. And today we popped out into the village to make sure that everything was still where it should be.

The church, the ‘Gurgl Carat’ conference centre and the statue celebrating the crash-landing of the Piccard Balloon out on the glacier are all still there.

The Edelweiss and Gurgl Hotel doesn’t look very open (yet) and the lift to the Hohe Mut Alm is closed until the 15th July, as mentioned previously. But the meadows are still looking splendid, so off we go…

Meadow Cranesbill

The Melancholy Thistles are not open down in the valley yet…

…but they are on the south-facing slopes higher up

…and some of them even have rose chafer beetles burrowing into them for the pollen…you can just see this beetle’s shiny bottom sticking out of the flower.

Looking back towards the Hangerer, the highest peak in the locality. Lots of snow high up too…

This plant is French sorrel – I’d not come across it before. I’ll have to have a nibble next time I’m passing.

And we spotted our first marmots of the season, making their dens very close to the path. Obergurgl is very quiet this year, and we’re quite early, so they aren’t as shy as usual.

There are some Highland Cattle in the fields. Lots of the farmers around Obergurgl keep small numbers of unusual breeds of cattle: the Alpine Blue cows are often seen, but I’ve spotted Belted Galloways and Dexters on previous visits.

.Such a beautiful day, and the view certainly beats the one at Munich airport.

There are lots of butterflies about, including this fine Small Tortoiseshell…

And then we get to the Frog Pond, where this little kiosk has sprung up in the past few years.

I can understand the chamois…

..but isn’t that a North American bighorn sheep?

Anyhow, the tadpoles are doing very nicely.

On we go. I’m looking for orchids, but I only find this one…

Southern Marsh Orchid?

But this plant was also new to me…it’s Sainfoin, or ‘holy hay’, which is known to tackle intestinal worms when ingested by cows and other ruminants. A very fine plant indeed!

I was a bit puzzled by this patch of Sweet William, but apparently it is native to the Alps – it seems unlikely that it could have just popped up from a garden in such a wild spot, so far from any gardens, so maybe this is what the wild plant looks like. Stunning!

And finally, how about this Alpine poppy? Not quite sure which species, but I’ve only ever seen it growing in one corner of the meadow close to the Hochgurgl lift car park, proof, if any was needed, that it’s worth looking out for plants wherever you go. They are always surprising!

Cake at the Sahnestuberl…

Well, Readers, we are nothing if not predictable – Easyjet willing, we will soon be off to Obergurgl in Austria for our annual two weeks of walking in the meadows and eating cake. Things are a little messed up this year – the lift to the Hohe Mut Alm in the village doesn’t start until 15th July, by which time we will be well used to panting up and down steep hills under our own steam. The temperatures are blessedly low ( at one point they’ll creep above 70 degrees Fahrenheit) which is just as well, as most of the walks are above the treeline) and while some rain is forecast, it’s mostly in the afternoon, so plenty of time for a walk followed by some reading. I have packed two books by Robert Seethaler, an Austrian author who wrote a fantastic book about the Tyrol called ‘A Whole Life’, and who has just published ‘The Café With No Name’, about Vienna, along with Arundhati Roy’s biography of her mother ‘Mother Mary Comes to Me’, and Emily Wilson’s book about what the classics can teach us, so that should keep me going. I will report back! Watch this space!

Baby Marmot

Splendid Hydrangeas

Dear Readers, en route to tea and lemon cake with my  lovely friends A and M, I passed some particularly splendid plants, including this Durham Road hydrangea. Hydrangeas really do seem to like the clay soil around here, there are lots that seem to be enjoying the hot, dry conditions.

But I also rather like the ‘accidental’ gardens that spring up at the base of walls, where all the self-seeded plants make a bid for escape. This lovely combination of species Geraniums and California poppies is very pretty….

There is no stopping this Mexican Fleabane….

The willowherbs are also having a good year – I have accidentally nurtured some American Willowherb in one of my front garden containers, and it’s a good metre tall.

And my pals even have a stray Day Lily popped up outside their house.

And look at this lovely pale pink Musk Mallow, which is also having a very good year, there’s loads in my garden.

And finally, I know I keep going on about the hibiscus trees, but honestly they look so good against a blue sky…

So, what’s happening in your neck of the woods? How is the heat affecting your plants? I’ve never been so glad for a north-facing back garden.

Tardigrade, winner of the 2025 Guardian Invertebrate of the Year award (Photo by By Philippe Garcelon – Tardigrade, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=104872070)

Well Readers, it’s that time of the year again, when we need to think of our favourite invertebrate and nominate it for the Guardian Invertebrate of the Year. Personally, I think they should suggest a short list, rather than letting it be a free for all – there’s enough invertebrates out there that each person could vote for a different one, and then where would we be? In 2024 the earthworm won, which is not unreasonable (unless you live in parts of the world where earthworms are an invasive species of course, such as parts of North America). But what would we choose? Last year I went for the hairy-footed flower bee, such a harbinger of spring and such a busy pollinator.

But how about somebody less popular than a bee? How about a cellar spider, which specialises in capturing and eating spiders much larger than itself?

A Hummingbird Hawkmoth would be close to the top of my list too…

But honestly, I think this should be the year of the Jumping Spider. Yes, I know that they have been known to jump at your eyeballs (probably they can see themselves reflected there) but how many invertebrates actually look  you in the eye at all? Surely a visit to Accident and Emergency is worth it for the privilege of making the acquaintance of these extraordinary animals.

Fencepost Jumping Spider (Marpissa muscosa)

So, who would you vote for? Do you incline towards the attractive, the useful or the extraordinary? Or all three? Do share!

A witch at her cauldron surrounded by beasts. Etching by J. van de Velde II, 1626. Contributors: Jan van de Velde. Work ID: kdrau2b4.

I’ve always loved the fierceness and defiance of Anne Sexton’s work. Isn’t there a part of a lot of us that would like to be wilder? See what you think.

Her Kind

By Anne Sexton

I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch
over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I have been her kind.

I have found the warm caves in the woods,
filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,
closets, silks, innumerable goods;
fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:
whining, rearranging the disaligned.
A woman like that is misunderstood.
I have been her kind.

I have ridden in your cart, driver,
waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning the last bright routes, survivor
where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.
I have been her kind.

Dear Readers,  I’m finding it rather wonderful to hear the chuckle of jackdaws here in East Finchley – they were rare visitors when I first arrived back in 2010, but this year a family of four have been coming to the garden, and its been interesting to see how busy the youngsters are keeping the parents.

The youngsters sit on the suet feeder and watch as the parent pecks out a few pellets. Clearly they haven’t learned how to manage it themselves yet!

These birds have attracted a lot of folklore, most of it contradictory. Seeing a jackdaw on the way to your wedding is a very good omen, but having one settle on your roof means a calamity is approaching. Or that something new is beginning, depending on where you live. They are renowned  for their fondness for shiny objects (their species name monedula means ‘money’) and to call someone a ‘jackdaw’ implies that they are a bit of a hoarder, no doubt with a drawer full of elastic bands, safety pins, a cork, some out-of-date parking permits and a pair of secateurs that need sharpening (ahem). Whatever they ‘mean’, these smallest UK corvids are smart, adaptable birds, who have learned how to use a bird feeder meant for much smaller birds than them. Good luck to them, I say.