Beer pressure for a peak performance

This week: and his father tackle a 6,000ft climb in Germany – with a little help from new friends along the way

‘I’m never getting up there!” says Dad, recently turned 60, pointing to the top of the Herzogstand mountain in the foothills of the Bavarian Alps.

Less than two hours south of Munich, the plush green peak (5,679ft) is a perfect spot for skiing in the winter and hiking in the summer.

“You can do this,” I reassure him. “We can take as many breaks you like, and it’ll be worth it for the cold beer and view from the top.”

He looks to my stepmother and girlfriend for encouragement.

“Or you take the ski lift and meet us up there in a couple of hours…”

He sighs and offers an apologetic look. “I think I’ll meet you guys up there.”

As we walk towards the ski lift, we pass an elderly couple carrying walking poles, ready to start their morning activity.

Dad looks back, grinning, and I know what he’s thinking. “All right, come on then!” The athlete inside wouldn’t let him give up that easily.

We begin the climb, zigzagging our way up the side of the mountain, shaded from the scorching sun.

“I need to stop,” Dad shouts from behind. I glance down at my watch. Five minutes in. “No problem, take your time.” I start to wonder if it might be too much. It’s at least two and a half hours to the top.

We continue the ascent, taking short but regular breaks. Each stop allows us to savour the views of the minty-coloured Walchensee (Lake Walchen) down below, flanked by the snow-capped Austrian Alps.

Dozens of hikers pass us on their way up and down, and we greet each other with a customary “servus” (“hello”) and words of encouragement. We daren’t ask how long to the top.

The path eventually becomes flatter and narrower, snaking around the side

of the mountain, as a steep drop opens below. The lake is no longer visible, but the wide expanse of forest provides an equally breathtaking view.

“Oh my God!” I hear them cry from behind in a mixture of vertigo-induced fear and wonder. A waterfall trickles around the bend.

“Hold on to this,” I call back, pointing to the rope strapped to the mountainside. Dad starts counting to 500 under his breath.

We reach the waterfall and splash our faces, the glacial water providing much-needed refreshment from the scorching heat.

“Not far now,” a solo hiker assures us as she offers us each a Dextro energy tablet.

The final ascent is the toughest part for us all, but the distant sound of cutlery and clinking glasses from the mountain lodge above pushes us along the home stretch.

Dad, struggling with a sore knee, limps his way up the final steps and collapses on a bench.

The now turquoise-green lake is finally visible in its entirety nearly 6,000ft below and a cool breeze chills us as we catch our breath.

“I can’t believe it,” he says. “We actually did it!”

I smile at him with pride and order the beers.

Jordan Maciel

PEOPLE LIKE YOU

CAVE ART The golden Buddhas of Dambulla were among the highlights of a trip to Sri Lanka