Where the lynx bids the capercaillie good night

Ternberg. Trattenbach. Two small municipalities directly on the Enns River. A region in Upper Austria where the fox still says goodnight to the capercaillie in the mountains. Home of the world-famous "Taschenfeitel" (pocket knife), a pocket knife said to be world-famous. I had never heard of it before, but so be it.

This is also where Holi, real name Matthias Hohlrieder, comes from. He founded the C-Sol coffee roastery, operates a café in Steyr, and continues a family tradition. His grandparents had a bakery in Ternberg, which still exists today. And if you're lucky, grandma herself will still be behind the counter, hearty, resolute, and clearly the boss.

Arrival with obstacles

We traveled light, only hand luggage, no bikes. Holi lent us some, which made our journey much easier. The journey to Steyr already had its anecdote: a taxi ride in Salzburg that you won't soon forget.

The driver was a quirky character. Speeding through the city, almost running over an elderly gentleman, and constantly trying to convince us: he could drive us the 150 kilometers directly to Steyr. Incidentally, his life story: Austria is too expensive, he'll soon move to Switzerland, he trades in raw materials - gold and such - and oh yes: he was once stabbed by an Afghan. The Afghan is now getting an apartment and money from the state. As he recounted this, he continued to race through the streets. Meanwhile, we were still sitting in his taxi, offering up little prayers.

We preferred to take the train to Steyr.

Arriving in Ternberg

In the evening, Holi showed us his café in Steyr, and we got a small tour of the region. For dinner, we went to an inn with him and his father. Just as you'd imagine it in Austria: rustic, hearty, everyone knows everyone. Sitting on the terrace in a T-shirt, dumplings with mushrooms on the plate. As a hip big-city veggie, you don't really stand a chance here, but the dumplings were divine.

The best part about being with a baker's son? Breakfast at his own bakery. Holi had arranged everything. The employee was instructed:

"Two flatlanders are coming, they need a little guidance."

We were well taken care of, in the sun, with a breakfast egg included. Perfect start to the day.

Graveling in the National Park

Holi had kept the whole day free for us. The plan: 73 kilometers, 1,700 meters of elevation, two tough climbs. Straight through the Kalkalpen National Park – 20,000 hectares, Austria's largest contiguous beech forest, habitat for lynxes, capercaillies, black storks, and a whole lot of bats. A paradise for gravel bikers.

So, we applied sunscreen, filled our bottles with carbs, and off we went. The first 15 kilometers were, according to Holi, "just the approach." For me, it was already a dream: the Enns flows picturesquely through the valley, with a bike path next to it, gentle waves, forest hills and peaks in the background. You can sense what's coming.

Then, champagne gravel at its finest, a stream babbling next to us – and at kilometer 25, the first climb. My first real mountain on a gravel bike ever. I had no idea how hard it could be to stay in the saddle and crawl up at 5 km/h. After three kilometers, I was completely exhausted. Plus, my borrowed steed constantly braked and squealed as if to annoy me. Holi just laughed:

"Those two or three watts don't matter."

At the top, after 36 kilometers, I was simply happy: head in an ice-cold trough, Weissbier mixed with Almdudler, followed by apple strudel. Wonderful.

The descent afterwards? 30, 40 km/h on gravel. New to me, exciting, almost a little scary, but also exhilarating.

Then came flow at its best. Miles of champagne gravel, until Holi pulled out the next trick: climb number two. Less high than the first mountain, but steeper. At the top, I was done, knackered, simply empty. Holi hadn't even touched his bottle. I would have loved to sink into the grass in a fetal position.

In the end, it was 73 kilometers, and we were tired but happy. Our reward: swimming pool burgers with fries at the local outdoor pool. Life can be so beautiful.

Kaiserschmarrn Prologue

The next day began with a visit to Holi's roastery. He explained the process to us, showed us a special bean, and served it to us as filter coffee. A glass for 8 euros. Sounds crazy, tasted like peach, and was worth every cent.

After that, breakfast at the bakery again. This time, Holi's mother greeted us. Her first sentence:

"Well, you're pretty hefty for cyclists."

Welcome to Upper Austria, even if it's somewhat accurate. Because the day was going to be tough: Austria's steepest forest path awaited us. Holi simply called it "the local mountain."

Even the approach made me sweat. An older gentleman with a scythe came towards us, talking to me in a strong dialect. I didn't understand a word and briefly thought the Grim Reaper himself wanted to pick me up. A harbinger of what was still to come.

Then the incline: 24 percent. Holi flew up like a feather, Robin gritted his teeth, I eventually had to push. A painful moment. Even more painful: the pensioners on e-MTBs who effortlessly overtook me. Holi later explained that they were tuned and rode at 80 watts, while we had to pedal 600. My honor was somewhat saved.

At the top, the reward: a hut with an incredible view and Kaiserschmarrn that simply made up for everything. Downhill was pure joy: fast, glowing brakes, half an hour of adrenaline. And then it was over. After a shower, it was time to pack our bags and head home. Tired, exhausted, but infinitely happy. Thank you, Holi, for these 3 unforgettable days.

You can find the trip visually prepared here:

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