Karwendelbahn: Germany's Highest Cable Car, Its Own Brewery, and a Trail Full of Sheep

Getting the ticket right

I arrived at the valley station at 11:55 (I'd have made it earlier, but I got distracted photographing the station itself) and still ended up waiting close to half an hour in direct sun — there were already around 30 people ahead of me. The ticket machine on the side accepts cards and (in theory) contactless, but the interface isn't fully translated and it's easy to grab the wrong ticket type. If you'd rather not gamble with a machine, there's a ticket window inside, but it charges a €5 deposit for a physical card (refunded on return).

Haki tip: the machine's English translation isn't complete, and it's easy to accidentally buy a one-way ticket. Contactless payment was unreliable when I tried it — have a physical card and a PIN you actually remember as backup. On a busy day, expect to queue outside in full sun for 20–30 minutes with zero shade.

Eight minutes up, then the real decision

The ride itself is short — eight to ten minutes — which makes the payoff feel almost unfair. I reached the top terrace at 12:38; from there it took another 20 minutes along a rope-secured stretch to the Westliche Karwendelspitze summit (2,385 m). At the top there's also a small nature and mountain exhibition, a short tunnel cut straight into the rock leading toward Dammkar, and the start of a marked panorama loop (in winter, the same terrain becomes a ski run) — I did the full loop as well. The Panorama-Rundweg Passamani is officially signposted at around an hour, but that's a walking-pace-only number — if you want the full loop, the summit cross, and enough time to actually enjoy the views instead of rushing, budget at least 2 hours. One honest caveat: I tend to cover trails and viewpoints, photo stops included, about 30–40% faster than the times posted on trail signage, so pad these numbers if you walk at an average pace.

Just past the summit cross, right where the Mittenwalder Klettersteig — a proper via ferrata, not something to wander into by accident — starts its ridge walk toward the Nördliche Linderspitze (2,372 m, the first peak on the other side), there's a bench with one of the best panorama views on the whole massif, looking straight toward Austria. A small flock of sheep had clearly claimed it as their own for a while and left generous evidence everywhere. Nobody seemed to mind: I watched people quietly soak in a 360-degree view with a distinct undertone of manure. Worth the detour and the smell; just watch your step.

Prefer to hike up? Ride the cable car down

There's a way to reach the top that costs nothing but time and legs: the Karwendelsteig, a marked but serious route that climbs out of Mittenwald past the Mittenwalder Hütte before joining the cable car's mountain station for the final stretch to the summit. Real hiking-time data (not just trailhead optimism) puts the ascent at roughly 5 to 5.5 hours for around 1,500 vertical meters, with wire-secured, exposed sections along the way — this is a route for sure-footed hikers who are comfortable with heights, not a casual add-on to the trip. If you're tempted to walk back down too instead of buying a return ticket, know that the alternative descent through the Dammkar takes a further 3.5 to 4 hours over loose, scree-covered terrain that's genuinely harder going down than the Karwendelsteig is going up. My honest recommendation: if you'd rather earn the view on your own legs than ride up, go for it — but buy the one-way ticket and take the cable car back down instead of walking that too. On this mountain, the descent is the harder half, not the easier one.

Lunch at 2,244 meters

I got to the Berggaststätte — the restaurant attached to Karwendelbräu — at 14:45 after a slow walk back down with stops for photos. Inside, it's a lot more polished than the "mountain canteen" you might expect: reclaimed wood tables, copper piping along the bar, and rows of wine bottles on display — clearly built for more than just a quick soup between hikes. I ordered the Obazda (€10.90) and a Helles (€5.90); you get an electronic buzzer that lights up when it's ready. The portion was generous — clearly meant for two — served with a pretzel, and it was the best Obazda I've had in Bavaria so far. The Helles itself surprised me: light, almost citrusy, barely any carbonation, with a dry finish and only a faint bitterness right at the end — closer in character to a mild wheat beer than what I expected from a classic Helles. Whether that's the house style or just this particular pour, I'd try it again to find out.

Back down, back in town

Leaving the restaurant at 15:12, I found the queue for the descent had grown to around 45 people. Back in Mittenwald by 16:00, I had just enough time for a quick pass through the Geigenbaumuseum, the town's violin museum (30 minutes is enough unless you like to read every panel — and go after 16:00, when the entry fee drops to €4.50 from €5.50). It's worth knowing going in that it's not only violins: alongside the workshop rooms and rows of instruments in glass cases, there's also a small display of the region's carved masks, so budget a few extra minutes if that interests you too. From there it was a look inside the church and a walk along the promenade, where the painted house facades (Lüftlmalerei) are reason enough to visit even without the mountain — keep an eye out for the top-hatted wooden figure outside the Post-Hotel.

I nearly missed one thing: I wanted to grab a drink for the train at the station kiosk, but it had already locked up at 17:00. The Edeka is right on the other side of the station, but you can't cut through — you have to walk around, which took a brisk 20 minutes there and back. There's a smarter way to handle this: stop at the Edeka on your way from the cable car into town, before you start sightseeing, and you skip the detour entirely later. Just know that anything cold will have warmed up in your backpack by the time you're on the train an hour or more later — for an actually cold drink to take home, buy it from a shop in the old town shortly before your train instead. I still made it back with time for a mango-lemon ice cream (€1.90) before catching the 17:36 train back to Munich. Even the station itself is worth a glance before you leave — the pastel-colored buildings right on the platform sit directly under the jagged Karwendel skyline, a last easy photo that costs you nothing extra.