The Lowe Alpine Altus pack, with a capacity of 52 to 57 litres, saw me through the whole season this year. All that time it sat softly on my back and held on to me firmly through all my mountain escapades. And the last one was a real cracker.
When did our journey together begin? Back in April.
In Czechia the snowflakes were still falling on us, but Lake Garda at Easter – that was another league! Azure skies and warm sunshine. In this via ferrata El Dorado we soaked up spring with every pore. And anyone still feeling cold on the Sentiero Contrabbandieri ferrata was soon warmed up by the serious exposure. You'd struggle to find any fixed cables there. It's not really a via ferrata in the true sense of the word. More an old smugglers' path hewn into the rock. It runs along the lake, and moving along the narrow ledge calls for a cool head – not a single step out of line.
On the Monte Albano ferrata, though, we couldn't have done without the steel cables – it's a strenuous masterpiece above the village of Mori. You spend quite some time climbing there, so the sun, which was beating down on us the whole time, painted this year's first freckles on my skin. And then the mountains to the north lured us in. The iconic Rino Pisetta ferrata climbs a vertical, exposed wall, and spring was only peeking in there cautiously. And on the Signora delle Acque ferrata I gradually pulled a long-sleeved top out of my pack, then a fleece and finally a jacket too. As the name of the ferrata hints, the route leads through a canyon with a waterfall, and the sun can barely get through.
"How do you manage to bring a whole wardrobe on a via ferrata?" the guys wondered.
"You just need a good backpack. Big, but light too. One that fits your body and has loads of pockets," I winked, letting them in on my secret.
In summer we set off on hikes around Austria's Lake Altaussee. Views earned with several hours of climbing. Feasting our eyes on the Dachstein and the Totes Gebirge. But I'm definitely no camel, so I have to drink a lot and regularly. Luckily, my "Altie", as I named the pack, is designed for big water supplies. It has an airy back system that keeps ventilating nicely, so even when I was lugging two two-litre bottles of water – quite a load on such scorching days – I wouldn't say my back was exactly dry, but it certainly wasn't drenched in sweat. That was great.
And it was great on my multi-day rambles through the Brdy forests too, where the separate bottom compartment for my sleeping bag came in handy. And all it took was to unroll the extension collar of the main compartment and I instantly had another five litres for my extra wardrobe.
I was purring with contentment.
I always am when I sleep under the stars. What I don't carry, I don't have – perfect! And the weather was so kind to me! Only once did I get caught in a light drizzle – and the tough material with its HydroShield water-repellent finish handled it with ease. Even the ash I smeared on the pack by the fire came off the surface easily. A quick rinse in a stream did the trick.
I guess Lowe Alpine expect their packs to get some rough treatment.
But the biggest adventure awaited me at the very end of the season. Königsjodler – endless climbing along a jagged ridge, up, down, up and round and round again. And in the whole range of conditions. From sunshine we plunged into fog, fog turned to rain, and below the top, at almost 3,000 metres, we even got this year's first snowflakes. Ten hours of full-on effort.
The way down then confirmed the saying that the descent is often harder than the ascent. We chose the Mooshammersteig path. And no, it didn't come for free. A glacier, downclimbing and descending fifteen hundred vertical metres of exposed rocky terrain with unprotected climbing sections. Thanks to the grey, falling mist, the rock was pretty slippery in places. So much so that at one point I set off downwards on my bum. As I fell, I landed on my pack and got wedged with it in a narrow chimney.
Now what? I caught my breath for a moment and then started counting the damage. Trousers in tatters and a bum turning every colour of the rainbow. Luckily, the pack had my back covered. And how did it fare after such a ride on bare rock? Unscathed! And I mean truly unscathed. Not even a scratch. I then tried to get my nerves into the same state, and step by step we carried on, slowly and gently, downwards. And when, two days later, I was packing my indestructible Lowe Alpine into the car, I turned to the mountain one last time with a humble "thank you".
It was a proper stress test – for both of us. And we passed – both of us.
The successor to the tested Altus pack is Lowe Alpine Cholatse. It differs only slightly in the back panel.
