a favourite in many districts. Given advance warning, vegetarians can be catered for, although expectations should not be raised too high as the simplest option will often be taken by the hut staff, who, as Gillian Price points out in her guidebook Through the Italian Alps: The Grande Traversata delle Alpi, ‘have to be capable of dealing with everything from a blocked toilet, frozen pipes, refilling a diesel-powered generator, lugging firewood and provisions up steep stairs, repairing pumps and solar panels, organising rescue operations…and are expected to be gourmet chefs as well!’
A hut warden, then, is a Jack (or Jill) of all trades, with ‘cook’ being just one part of the job description. Love of the mountains is what entices them to spend several months of the year lodged above the clouds far from the nearest shop, and in doing so they must be prepared to meet numerous challenges undreamed of by chefs in the kitchens of valley hotels. With supplies being delivered by costly helicopter – in some cases perhaps just once or
‘A hut warden is a Jack (or Jill) of all trades, with “cook” being just one part of the job description’
twice in a three-month season – or on the back of a mule or by a basic goods lift, where one exists, the variety and freshness of ingredients may be somewhat limited. This Jack of all trades must conjure up three-course meals for ravenous mountaineers from whatever is available, so his (or her) repertoire may not be an extensive one – although it could prove to be rather imaginative when supplies are running low. I know of several huts on popular trekking routes where the main meal served to visitors is exactly the same every night of the season. But since the majority of guests stay only one night at a time, this hardly matters, and for anyone spending a second or third consecutive night, simple alternative options are usually rustled up.
When you consider the nature of mountain activities, and the very early start required for some of them, it’s not surprising that most of us are happy to get our heads down and toes up before the night is old, so guardians will often enforce a silent period (known as Hüttenruhe in German-speaking Alps) between 10pm and 6am to limit disturbance by the early risers – especially in high mountain huts inhabited by climbers, where the most ambitious are likely to be up and away long before 6am or, at the very least, an hour or more before dawn.
Catching the last of the evening sunlight, walkers and climbers relax outside the Carschina Hut in the Swiss Rätikon Alps
To avoid disturbing other hut users in the early morning scrum, baskets are often provided for those essential items needed indoors, so rucksacks, ice axes, crampons, climbing ironmongery and ropes can be left in the boot room in readiness for a pre-dawn start. It’s here that you need to keep your gear together so you know where to find it, for as John Barry points out, not entirely tongue-in-cheek, in his book Alpine Climbing, it’s all too easy in the bleary-eyed post-breakfast melee for someone to take the wrong ice axe – especially if it’s better than their own – ‘and it is not unknown for boots to walk away on the wrong feet.’
In climbers’ huts, the serving of breakfast is often scheduled according to the needs and chosen routes of the users, so one breakfast sitting may be at 4am, while another will be served two or three hours later. On occasion, and by arrangement, the guardian will leave a Thermos of hot drink and bread wrapped in cling film for those wanting to start their route at an even more ungodly hour. Since few climbers have much of an appetite at that time of day (or night), a couple of slices of dry bread and jam, cheese or salami, washed down with a bowl of warm coffee or weak tea, will be endured rather than enjoyed. A gourmet experience before a pre-dawn start to a climb need not be anticipated. On the other hand, breakfast arrangements are much more relaxed and flexible in huts used by trekkers and walkers, with food and drink often being available from 6–8am.
The Aljažev dom in the Julian Alps of Slovenia makes a fine destination or overnight stop on the way to Triglav, which rises steeply above (Photo: Jonathan Williams)
Breakfasts are the standard ‘continental’ style, consisting of a few slices of bread and butter with jam, dried meat or cheese, and bowls of coffee, tea or hot chocolate. Cereals with milk are sometimes available, however, and in huts that are accessible from a road, it’s not unusual to find fresh fruit and yogurt also on offer. Some climbers I know carry a bag of muesli pre-mixed with milk powder and, by simply adding water, manage to enhance the hut warden’s breakfast offering; but if you’re used to bacon and eggs before a day on the hill, you’re out of luck here.
Packed lunches can usually be arranged if ordered the night before they’re needed. Although comparatively expensive, in my experience the contents are often sufficient to feed two, while in all but the most remote climbers’ huts, a restaurant service provides midday
‘A gourmet experience before a pre-dawn start to a climb need not be anticipated’
snacks or lunches for passing walkers or early arrivals. Canned or bottled drinks are on sale in virtually every staffed hut, although prices are invariably higher than you’d pay in the valleys. In Austria and Slovenia it’s not unusual for visitors to bring a supply of tea bags or coffee sachets with them, and buy a litre of hot water (Teewasser/vroca voda) from the warden to make their own drinks. In a number of Austrian and Swiss huts the warden will provide a supply of Marschtee (usually sweetened fruit tea) with which to fill your flask before leaving, at no extra cost.
There are no facilities for self-catering in most staffed huts, although there are exceptions, such as refuges managed by the French Alpine Club (Fédération Française des Clubs Alpins et de Montagne, FFCAM) which often have a room or a corner of a room set aside for visitors to prepare their own food on their own stoves as an alternative to having meals provided by the guardian. As a form of compromise, the Swiss Alpine Club (Schweizer Alpen-Club, SAC) has a rule that for a small charge, staff will cook the food a visitor has brought with them, as long as it’s simple and can be quickly heated. But this facility is rarely taken, and even more rarely welcomed by the staff themselves, as it can be extremely inconvenient during busy periods.
A special breed
Of course, huts are not always busy, even in the height of summer among some of the most sought-after summits, for on occasion bad weather rolls in, and remains for days or even weeks at a time. Climbers desert the peaks, flee to the valleys or go in search of sunshine elsewhere. Living among rock, snow or ice way above the valley can then be a lonely existence for wardens, marooned as they are, isolated far from company. So when I appeared dripping with rain at the Rothorn Hut one day, midway through a spell of grim weather, the warden greeted my arrival with surprise. Some 1600m above Zermatt, a casual visitor that summer was a rarity.
‘Where on earth have you come from?’ she asked, then apologised. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘but I wasn’t expecting visitors. Haven’t seen anyone for a week and certainly didn’t imagine anyone would arrive today.’ What she failed to say was, ‘I didn’t imagine anyone would be foolish enough to come all this way to see nothing but rain and fog,’ and I didn’t bother to explain that I had a book to write and could not afford to sit around in Zermatt twiddling my thumbs until the sun shone.
But imagine – living in the clouds at 3200m and seeing no one for a week! You need a focus to your days, and a lack of imagination, to put up with the isolation when storms explode all around your home.
‘Any chance of a bowl of soup?’ I asked. The smell coming from her kitchen was a reminder of just how long it had been since I’d eaten breakfast. In my rucksack I had a couple of cheese rolls, two bananas and some chocolate, but the prospect of soup had me salivating.
It tasted as good as it smelled;
