Three countries, one hike: an Alpine adventure in Austria, Slovenia and Italy

The scene unfolding around the border marker was a testament to a modern Europe that has largely transcended such rigid divisions. Hikers, laden with backpacks and trekking poles, ambled casually past, their minds focused on the next vista or the gentle rhythm of their steps, not on invisible political lines. Mountain bikers, having conquered challenging ascents, leaned their cycles against the very post that once symbolized a hard boundary, finding a practical, if unintended, use for its presence. Cows, with their characteristic bovine indifference, grazed willy-nilly across the invisible divide, their ancient instincts for lush pasture overriding any concept of sovereignty. Even the patrons of the Schutzhütte Oisternig, a welcoming mountain hut, clinked their cold beers, enjoying hearty regional fare, utterly unconcerned about which side of the imaginary line their benches or beverages resided on. This tranquil disregard for a sign steeped in history powerfully underscored a profound truth: while official boundaries have indeed morphed and shifted in these rugged parts over the tumultuous centuries, the enduring, awe-inspiring magnificence of the mountains themselves has remained a constant, steadfast presence.

Our journey had commenced that morning deep within Austria, in the picturesque Carinthian village of Feistritz. Carinthia, Austria’s southernmost state, is a region renowned for its stunning lakes, majestic mountains, and a rich cultural tapestry woven from Austrian, Slovenian, and Italian influences. Feistritz itself, a charming example of an authentic Alpine settlement, exuded a quiet, timeless appeal. After a delightful breakfast at the historic Gasthof Alte Post, a traditional inn that has likely hosted travellers for generations, we made a quick stop at the local bäckerei for a fresh loaf of bread, essential fuel for the day’s trek. As we began our ascent, climbing past the venerable 15th-century church, its ancient bells tolled, summoning worshippers to morning prayers, a sound that echoed through the crisp mountain air and connected us to the village’s deep roots. Our path then led us upwards, winding through dense, fragrant pine forests, their needles crunching underfoot, until we emerged into the expansive, sun-drenched high Alpine meadows – and, almost imperceptibly, into Italy.

We were traversing a section of the Alpe Adria Trail, an ambitious and visionary long-distance hiking route jointly conceived and developed by the tourism boards of Austria, Slovenia, and Italy. This trail embodies the spirit of "hiking without borders," a concept gaining significant traction in Europe. The full Alpe Adria Trail stretches an impressive 750 kilometres (466 miles), tracing a majestic arc from the foot of Grossglockner, Austria’s highest peak at a formidable 3,798 metres, all the way down to the sun-kissed shores of the Adriatic coast, typically ending in Muggia or Grado. While the entirety of the trail is a formidable undertaking, too extensive for the average summer holiday, a meticulously designed 135-kilometre (84-mile) loop has been created specifically around the tri-border region where these three nations meet. This moderate-graded loop is designed to be comfortably doable in about a week, with daily walking distances ranging from 15 to 24 kilometres (9-15 miles), offering a captivating multicultural taster of the broader trail. It’s an inherently appealing proposition; hikers are increasingly drawn to the unique allure of circumnavigating multiple countries within a single journey – one only needs to witness the surging numbers crowding the iconic Tour du Mont Blanc these days to understand this appeal. While the Alpe Adria loop might not possess the dramatic, high-altitude grandeur of the Mont Blanc circuit, it compensates with a distinct charm and, crucially, offers a much quieter, more contemplative alternative, allowing for deeper immersion in the landscape and local cultures.

Our journey to this Alpine paradise had begun even earlier, embracing a more sustainable mode of travel. My husband and I had caught an early Eurostar from London to Amsterdam, a conscious choice to minimize our carbon footprint. In Amsterdam, we savored a few hours amidst its charming canals, enjoying local beers and crispy bitterballen, before boarding the Nightjet sleeper train to Salzburg. This growing trend of overnight train travel, or "slow travel," across Europe is a delightful experience in itself, allowing travellers to witness the continent’s diverse landscapes unfold from the comfort of their cabins. In our adjoining capsule-like cabins, we watched the flat, verdant landscapes of the Netherlands seamlessly transition into the more undulating terrain of Germany, finally waking at dawn to the breathtaking sight of classic Austrian pastures, dense pines, and the first hints of towering peaks. The final leg of our rail journey, from Salzburg to Villach, the designated starting point for the Alpe Adria loop, saw the Alps pressing ever closer, their majestic presence drawing us deeper into their embrace, a powerful prelude to the adventure ahead.

Now, a day and a half into our trek on the Feistritzer Alm, Austria lay temporarily behind us, and Italy beckoned with an inviting, almost lyrical beauty. Just a short walk around a gentle hill from the aforementioned Schutzhütte Oisternig stood the charming chapel of Our Lady of the Snows, known locally as the Chiesa Madonna della Neve or Almkapelle Maria Schnee, depending on one’s linguistic preference. This border chapel, a testament to shared spiritual heritage, has for centuries offered solace to travellers and shepherds alike. Beyond its humble walls, the landscape unfolded in a breathtaking panorama: deep-green foothills rolled gently into the distance, giving way to the dramatic, jagged spires of the Julian Alps, which appeared to saw into a hot, impossibly blue sky, creating a scene of profound natural artistry. The Julian Alps, a sub-range of the Southern Limestone Alps, are geologically distinct and ecologically vital, home to diverse flora and fauna, and have historically served as both a natural barrier and a cultural bridge between the Germanic, Romanic, and Slavic worlds.

From this elevated vantage point, the remainder of our day’s hike was a blissful descent, a welcome drop through blessed, dappled shade and a flurry of colourful butterflies, on winding paths that wove intimately through the pines. Every so often, the forest would part, offering tantalizing glimpses of the peaks we had left behind and those that awaited us. Our day culminated in the serene Italian village of Valbruna, where we found respite at the charming Valbruna Inn. We were delighted with our room, which boasted a balcony offering spectacular views. We spent a significant amount of time there, gazing past vibrant geraniums cascading from window boxes, towards the sheer, imposing face of the Jôf Fuart range, a prominent massif in the Julian Alps whose highest point reaches an impressive 2,666 metres. The Jôf Fuart is a magnet for climbers, its challenging rock faces and intricate geology telling tales of ancient earth movements.

The Valbruna Inn also housed a particularly captivating feature: the Julius Kugy Library. This cosy den, brimming with books on alpinism, was a true haven for mountain enthusiasts. It is named after Julius Kugy, a legendary writer and mountaineer whose life and work profoundly shaped the understanding and exploration of the Julian Alps. Born in 1858 to a Slovenian family in Gorizia – a city with a complex and often contested history, then part of the Austrian Empire and now divided between Italy and Slovenia – Kugy is widely credited with opening up the Julian Alps to exploration and appreciation. He was not merely a conqueror of peaks but a deeply philosophical individual who never lost his profound reverence for nature. Kugy consistently encouraged others to explore the mountains with an ethos of respect, curiosity, and awe, advocating for a deeper connection with the natural world rather than mere conquest. I picked up one of his books, its pages worn with age, and read from his poignant introduction: “[This] tries to describe the mountains as a source of happiness, because such they were in my life.” His words resonated deeply, articulating the very essence of what we were experiencing on the Alpe Adria Trail.

With hearts full of the happiness Kugy described, we continued our journey the next morning. The Alpe Adria Trail led us out of Valbruna, guiding us across the Saisera River, a clear, meandering waterway vital to the valley’s ecosystem, and then upwards through dense stands of fragrant fir and spruce trees. Our destination was the Sanctuary of Monte Lussari, a remarkable ridge-top pilgrim church and hamlet. Perched dramatically at an altitude of 1,790 metres, Monte Lussari is a place steeped in legend; tradition holds that the Virgin Mary appeared here in 1360, an event that transformed it into a significant pilgrimage site. While the miracle itself, and the array of shops selling branded tote bags, liqueurs, and even slippers, might have been less impactful, I was utterly captivated by the seemingly infinite expanse of mountains scattered far and wide around us. From this elevated sanctuary, the views were truly panoramic, stretching across the tri-border region and revealing layers of peaks in every direction. We lingered, absorbing the breathtaking vista, before beginning our descent. Our path wound through meadows adorned with vibrant alpenrose, past ambling goats, down to the town of Tarvisio. Here, we found a different, yet equally delightful, kind of happiness in the town’s numerous gelaterias, indulging in the rich flavours of Italian ice cream. Later that evening, from the comfort of our balcony at the Hotel Nevada, we sat with cold beers, watching in awe as a dramatic summer storm crashed through the valley, its torrential rain and booming thunder briefly erasing every mountain from view, only to reveal them again, freshly washed and gleaming, as the clouds parted.

The following day brought renewed joy and fresh perspectives as the trail guided us along the woodland-weaving Sentiero del Orso, or "Bear’s Path." This trail, aptly named for the potential (though rare) presence of brown bears in these remote areas, offered a magical traverse through ancient forests, rich with biodiversity. From there, we transitioned onto a well-maintained, albeit busy, cycle path that led us to the enchanting Fusine lakes (Lago di Fusine). These twin glacial bowls, Lower and Upper Lake, are renowned for their extraordinarily arresting blue-green hues, a colour so vibrant and unreal that one might suspect digital enhancement were it not for the undeniable reality of standing right there. Their unique colouration is a result of their glacial origin, depth, and the mineral content of the surrounding rock, which reflects sunlight in a spectacular fashion. The majestic peaks of the Mangart massif, soaring dramatically above, were perfectly mirrored in their dazzlingly clear waters. We found a quiet, secluded spot to enjoy our picnic lunch, serenaded by the distinctive whinnying calls of little grebes darting across the water’s surface, all the while gazing across the dazzling expanse to the challenging rock formations ahead: our next test, the steep haul up to Rifugio Zacchi.

The Alpe Adria loop, designed for accessibility, typically concludes each day’s walk in a valley bottom, where a plethora of inns and guesthouses await weary hikers. But tonight was an exception, a delightful deviation from the norm. Rifugio Zacchi, a classic Italian mountain hut, sits proudly at an altitude of 1,380 metres, tightly embraced by the intimidating, craggy peaks that dramatically mark the border with Slovenia. After a muggy yet utterly magical ascent through dense forest, the refuge appeared as a welcoming beacon. I settled onto its terrace, a superb Aperol spritz in hand, and stared, transfixed, at the colossal peaks surrounding us. A few distant booms of thunder rippled through the air, a timely reminder, just in case the raw, untamed power of nature had ever been in doubt. Alpine refuges like Zacchi are more than just overnight stops; they are institutions, hubs of mountain culture, offering camaraderie, hearty food, and essential shelter to climbers and hikers, often in remote and breathtaking locations.

The food at Rifugio Zacchi was outstanding, a true highlight of our culinary journey. We feasted on rich venison ragù, perfectly chargrilled peppers, and crispy frico, a delicious potato-pancake-like dish made with local Montasio cheese – a semi-hard, unpasteurized cow’s milk cheese originating from the Friuli-Venezia Giulia region, prized for its nutty flavour. Equally excellent was a stroke of luck: we had an entire dorm to ourselves, a rare luxury in a busy mountain hut. We woke feeling refreshed and eager for our next border hop. The most visually striking route would have been directly over the forbidding-looking Vratca Pass, a high mountain saddle offering dramatic views. The Alpe Adria Trail did indeed lead us to the pass, affording us magnificent panoramic views east into Slovenia’s Triglav National Park. Triglav, Slovenia’s only national park, is a jewel of biodiversity and geological wonder, home to Mount Triglav, the country’s highest peak, and a landscape of dramatic valleys, alpine lakes, and ancient forests. However, the trail, in its design for moderate accessibility, did not cross the Vratca Pass directly. Instead, it backtracked down the Italian side, following a gentler path through the verdant Sava Valley to the lively, outdoorsy town of Kranjska Gora.

This was a pleasant and picturesque entrance into Slovenia, a country celebrated for its stunning natural beauty and commitment to sustainable tourism. Kranjska Gora, nestled in the Upper Sava Valley, is a renowned hub for outdoor activities, popular for skiing in winter and hiking and cycling in summer. However, our exit from Slovenia the next day proved to be truly spectacular. To complete the loop and return to Austria, we faced the challenge of crossing the majestic Karavanke Alps and conquering the highest point of our entire route: the 1,842-metre Schwarzkogel. It was an unrelenting, yet incredibly rewarding, climb. Initially, our path wound through idyllic pasturelands dotted with charming shingle-roofed huts, offering sublime, ever-expanding views to the jagged Julian peaks we had recently explored. As we ascended higher, we delved deep into dense forest, serenaded by the rich, melodic calls of thrushes and the constant, soothing trickle of streams running alongside our path.

As we neared the summit, the tree line began to thin, and the views became truly expansive and breathtaking. To the south, we could see Slovenia’s surging summits stretching into the distance, a wild and untamed landscape. To the north, the landscape of Carinthia unfolded, revealing its electric-blue lakes shimmering amidst rolling low hills. It was at this elevation that the border markers began to reappear: squat, white, unassuming stones strung along the ridge’s spine. These humble markers, delineating an international border with such casual simplicity, felt less like a barrier and more like an invitation. We playfully slalomed between the posts, stepping effortlessly from Slovenia back into Austria, relishing both the profound freedom of movement that defines modern Europe and the enduring, overwhelming majesty of nature itself. For millennia, the formidable Alps have served as both physical and cultural barriers, dividing peoples and empires. The Alpe Adria Trail, however, represents a profound "bringing together," a contemporary testament to shared experience and mutual appreciation. It is, unequivocally, a source of unparalleled mountain happiness.

Our enriching adventure on the Alpe Adria Trail was expertly organized and provided by Walks Worldwide. Their eight-day, self-guided Alpe Adria Tri-Country Trek package, which includes bed and breakfast accommodation, is available from £895. Such self-guided trips offer the perfect balance of independence and logistical support, often including luggage transfers between accommodations, detailed route notes, and emergency assistance. For our pre-journey stay in London, accommodation was provided by Generator, a popular hostel chain offering rooms from £75 and dorm beds from £11, catering to budget-conscious travellers. For those considering this remarkable trail, it’s advisable to plan for the summer or early autumn months (June to September) when the weather is most stable and mountain huts are fully operational. Essential gear includes sturdy hiking boots, layers of clothing for varying weather, rain protection, a well-stocked first-aid kit, and plenty of water. While the trail is moderate, a good level of fitness is recommended. Booking accommodations in advance, especially during peak season, is crucial. Understanding a few basic phrases in German, Italian, and Slovenian can enhance the experience, though English is widely spoken in tourist areas. As all three countries are part of the Eurozone, currency exchange is straightforward.