All aboard the Apennines Express, L’Aquila train station  - photo by the author

Introduction

Climbing hills and mountains without the use of a car or van is not particularly easy. Their topography does not favour trains and buses, and even where this handicap can be overcome with bridges, tunnels, switchbacks, cogs and cable cars, public transport stops are usually miles from otherwise helpful road heads, mountain refuges or accessible footpaths. Nevertheless, there remain many prominent hills across Europe that can be reached by train, bus and even boat, so long as you are willing to plan ahead, travel lightly, succumb to local transport timetables and walk or cycle the extra necessary distance to get to the climb proper.

To test out our sustainable travel credentials as well as mark our joint retirement from the salaried life, Deana and I set out in the first half of 2023 on a two-month Inter-rail trip across Europe. We packed a small rucksack each, using the learned rules of our cheap flights  generation … three trousers, three tops, three shirts, three pants, six socks, shorts, a waterproof jacket and hiking boots; plotting a flexible route that took in cultural “must sees”, Brexit-avoiding family and friends and, of course, a few notable hills to give our ageing knees and widening waists a regular workout.

Benelux Beers

Ever since scrambling to the top of Mont Blanc as a callow student I have long harboured the ambition to summit the highest hill in each European country, so a brief stop in historic Aachen, Germany, gave an early opportunity to add Vaalserberg to my list, as it is just over the adjacent Dutch border. The top of this not-so mighty 322m, P0m hill is somewhat crowded with a bar, cafe, children’s play park, huge observation tower and extensive labyrinthine maze, as well as a marker stone indicating where Germany, Belgium and the Netherlands come together in a triumvirate of altitudinal neighbourliness. It’s a pleasant enough walk there-and-back through the surrounding woodlands and horse grazed meadows, and who doesn’t enjoy a celebratory ice-cold bier and currywurst after a successful summit?

German cakes

Later that week we found ourselves in the delightful Black Forest. Blueberry-smothered pancakes more than made up for the lack of expected gateaux, and a series of hills and gorges around Feldberg, about an hour east of the beautiful medieval city of Freiburg, allowed us to work off the resultant calories. The Feldberg itself is the highest point of the Black Forest, topping out at 1494m and easily making it into P600m Majors territory, given its prominence of 930m. The ascent is just a bus ride from Titisee train station, followed by a straightforward forty-minute walk up from a ski centre and along a military building access road. It is a great day out if combined with a circular tour of the surrounding forest and nearby Feldsee lake, tantalizingly half-frozen in the late-winter shade when we visited.

Italian delights

Looking for more challenging hikes in sunnier climes took us next to Lake Como on the Italian-Swiss border. There are numerous mountains to choose from and a sufficiently integrated train, bus and boat network to enable relatively straightforward access to many of them. We swiftly bagged Monte Boletto 1236m, P120m from Como promenade, eschewing the adjacent funicular packed with shorts-n-sandals tourists heading to half-way-up Brunate for the over-priced restaurants and fabulous views.

From Lecco we were able to bag a further three hills with relative ease. Monte Barro 922m, P657m is a short but steep walk through woodland to a rocky limestone summit with the standard cross. We took a route directly from Lecco town centre, which on reflection proved to be the most difficult given that a bit of rock scrambling was required along an exposed ridge, not a straightforward proposition on a very windy morning. The route down via a road to a monastery and visitor centre was far simpler. 

Corni di Canzo 1373m, P875m is an even more rewarding climb, a network of marked paths offering a range of access options, from steady plod to via ferrata. Given our lack of gear, we took the plod option from the village of Valmadrera, but it was very enjoyable nonetheless, taking steady zig-zags through beautiful mature beech woodland to a refuge just below the rocky summit. Only from this point did things get tricky as an exposed scramble up a steep limestone face is required. Most hikers wisely stopped their ascent at this point, but as the rock was dry and the hand-holds large, I clambered to the top, quickly took in the fabulous cross-topped grassy summit, then clambered back down to the waiting Deana. All the refuges in this part of the world are manned by volunteers and, thankfully, it was their first day of opening for the season, so the afternoon was spent soaking up the mountain sunshine with birre in hand.

Monte San Primo 1686m, P1407m was a more logistical problem. It is a very straightforward walk from a car park at the nearby ski resort but, of course, we had no car. Instead, we took an early morning bus from Lecco to the lakeside village of Vassena, then simply headed upwards on our feet along a mix of ancient tracks and modern tarmac roads, meeting only deer and goats throughout. This took several hours, but eventually got us to the start of the hill-climb proper. A muddy track running alongside a grassy ridge led quickly to an eventual high point, where the summit views over Lake Como towards the snow-covered High Alps were stupendous. In order to retain these as long as possible we headed northwards along path and minor road until eventually reaching the beautiful lakeside town of Bellagio, famously home to the rich and famous. We had time for a couple of celebratory gelato cones before boarding the last boat back to Lecco, a truly glorious way to end the day’s adventure and rest sore legs that had clocked up thirty kilometres, none of it on the flat!

After a few weeks taking in the sunny delights of Italy’s tourist magnets: La Cinque Terre, Rome, Pompeii, Vesuvius and the Amalfi Coast, we eventually escaped the multi-national throngs by heading to the Gran Sasso massif, the highest section of the Apennine spine. The train got us to L’ Aquila, a medieval town unfortunately most well-known for the devastating 2009 earthquake that destroyed much of its fabric and killed 308 people. It’s now getting back on its feet and, as well as being a fascinating destination in its own right, is the best place from which to venture into the nearby mountains. Corno Grande 2912m, P2476 is the big one, and was our initial target. However, snow still covered both it and its highest sisters, so instead we settled for bagging some relatively minor peaks: Montecristo 1928m, Cima di Faiete 1915m, P79m and Costa Ceraso 1965m, P190m, and made a promise to return some summer soon.

Swiss fine dining

A looming train strike drove us back up north sooner than we planned, this time to Switzerland’s Lake Lugano and Lake Maggiore, where we knew that many more mountains were both possible by train and accessible to the regular walker in April. Perhaps the simplest is Monte Generoso 1701m, P1329 as it has an impressive rack railway to a restaurant and visitor centre just below the summit. We opted to walk from Mendrisio train station, which meant following an ever-steeper series of suburban streets until finding a glorious woodland path that climbed steadily up the mountain’s south-west flank. The summit views are outstanding, taking in as they do Lake Lugano immediately below, Monte Viso in the west and an extensive range of snowcapped 4000m peaks from Monte Rosa to Lagginhorn in the north. We had lots of time left so returned via the pristine Valle di Muggio, Switzerland’s southernmost valley and surely one of its most perfect. Charming rustic villages clinging to the steep sides of the valley are linked by myriad ancient mule paths, giving easy walking amongst a perfect patchwork of terraced pasture and ancient forest of elm, chestnut, birch and beech.

Not so physically high, but equally high on the summit view “wow” scale are Monte San Giorgio 1100m, P765 and Monte San Salvatore 913m, P603m, which rise directly from the southern shores of Lake Lugano like the proud crests of a newt. Both can be climbed in just a couple of hours from their nearest railway stations, San Salvatore even having a funicular for those not keen on breaking sweat up its steep footpaths. We chose more exacting routes to make the most of the gorgeous shady woodlands that cloak their sides and the ever-changing vistas that can be enjoyed when gaps amongst the trees appear. As a bonus, refreshments can be sourced at both summits, San Salvatore boasting a fine restaurant with an incredible terrace and San Giorgio a more modest refuge with an honesty box for the purchase of beer and fizzy drinks.

Before heading off to Vienna to check out its famous palaces, cafes and Spanish Riding School, we had time for one more nearby mountain. The highest within range of a train station turned out to be Monte Tamaro 1962m, P1406m from Rivera Bironico, and what we thought would be a standard hike turned into a more adventurous day out. We arrived early at the Monte Tamaro cable car station to get advice on routes, only to be told that the summit area was “closed” due to snow and ice. Somewhat disheartened we decided to take the cable up to its highest top station (1530m) anyway and do some walking beneath the snow line, from where, thankfully, there were marked path options a-plenty.

We initially contoured southwards around the bulk of a hill called Mugia, which eventually brought us to the lovely Val Duragno and within site of the southern side of the Tamaro summit ridge. To our eyes the ridge above looked free of snow from this viewpoint so we decided to climb the well-worn path up the valley and join the ridge at Motto Rotondo (1928m). However, as we climbed it became ever more apparent that the narrow kilometre-long section between Rotondo and Tamaro did indeed contain snow and ice, and that this definitely restricted access along the traditional ridge path to those without winter gear. After a quick discussion, Deana decided to wait on Rotondo whilst I carefully picked my way up and down the mini rock pinnacles above the iced footpath, which, although no more than a rock scramble, had significant exposure in places. After a few quick summit photos I reversed the route, but this time in the company of a nervous and uncertain German mother-and-son combination. We were all glad of the safety in numbers!

German cheer

Our final fortnight was spent in Bavaria and Luxembourg, two regions with very different bagging possibilities. Bavaria has a number of rocky mountain tops peaking from an ocean of forest, so we decided to base ourselves in the town of Zwiesel, which provided good train access to two of its highest, Großer Arber 1456m, P1027m and Großer Rachel 1452m, P497m). Good footpaths run from Bodenmais train station to the top of Arber, taking in the impressive Riesloch Falls, and to round off the hike we returned from its rather shabby summit via the far less visited, but more attractive, Kleiner Arber 1384m, P118m.

Großer Rachel is just four metres shorter than Arber, but is probably the nicer of the two to climb. We did so from Klingenbrunn-Bahnhof, walking through acres of beech, fir and spruce before reaching the open summit. The trees at the highest elevation have succumbed to bark beetle, which resonates a sense of desolation, but once back below this, the silvan splendour is unparalleled. Again, we opted for an alternative return route, to Frauenau, which proved to be an extremely serendipitous decision as we got to sample a series of local brandies and ales in a bistro just shy of our destination.

Luxembourg bars

Luxembourg is like the English county of Surrey, its hills are rolling and its bar prices eyebrow-raising. Cyclists outnumber hikers, thanks to miles and miles of cycleway, and peak-baggers are an even rarer breed. Our singular objective was the country high-point, a wee whitewash-marked hump close to the Belgium border called Kneiff 560m, P55m. It is just one metre taller than the nearby be-towered Buergplaz 559m, P14m, which was considered the highest point until a 1997 re-measuring exercise. Both were easily obtained on a circular walk from Troisvierges train station. A mix of cycleway, minor road and woodland footpath meant that it was little more than a lovely countryside stroll, but if even this is too much one can always drive along the summit road and lay a foot on the marked high point or walk twenty metres to the more likely high point in the neighbouring field.

Conclusion

So, bagging by train across Europe is more than feasible if you have both the additional time required and the stamina to cover the extra necessary walk-ins. Buses and boats can further help the most singular of baggers get to those summits even farther off the rail network. There is also the self-satisfaction in reducing your personal carbon-miles.  We took 130 trains to cover 7,968 kilometres, as well as the undoubted pleasure of being able to fully enjoy the post-hike pleasures of each region’s proudly proffered restorative refreshments … Saluti! Santé! Prost! to that.