The best running trails around Fontanella

If only I had packed my swimming trunks!

The Lutzuferweg is part of the Walserweg.

Nice guesthouse for a day trip. The rooms are historically simple, showers and toilets on the floor. The charm lies in the simplicity.

The Seven Hills Trail (11.7 km, 480 m elevation gain, approx. 4 hours) is a stunning loop hike! The first 1.5 km climbs directly beneath the chairlift, giving your lungs and climbing legs a real workout. But once you reach the top, it's three to four hours of pure bliss. What makes it so special? The view of mighty peaks all around you? The winding paths that gently ascend and descend? Or the scent of the lush green vegetation? It's simply everything. Every bend reveals a new landscape: babbling mountain streams, colorful fields of flowers, steep slopes, and much more. You'll be captivated. We hiked it in the summer, and the heat made it quite challenging. If you're sensitive to that (like me), then leave early in the morning. That way, you'll get the most out of this beautiful hike. Highly recommended!

There's an inn here with a large panoramic restaurant and sun terrace. Along the road, there's a smaller building with a terrace.

The square is also home to one of the famous swings in the Damüls region. https://www.damuels.at/de/walsertal/das-land-der-schaukeln.html

At some point, the path begins to tell its own story. Perhaps after the third hill, when your view has become accustomed to the expanse, or after the sixth, when your legs feel heavier but your heart lighter. The Seven Hills Trail isn't one of those marked triumphal paths, not a summit selfie spot with guaranteed mountain hut fun. It's a quiet, wild, almost wise-looking ridge path – one that promises nothing but delivers everything. In the golden light of late summer, the grass looks like time turned inside out. Dry, rough, scoured by the wind. The path winds over boggy hilltops and rugged ridges, past gnarled spruce trees that stand like silent border posts between valleys and heavens. Those who walk here leave the familiar behind for a few hours. On the left, the view down into the Damüls basin, on the right, wanderlust as far as the Arlberg, and somewhere in between, the inner compass readjusts. The wind carries stories—from the Portlahorn, perhaps, or the Elsenkopf. Old stones don't talk much, but they remember who's been here. Some hikers walk with dogs, others with hats. Some talk, others are silent. Everyone becomes quieter the further they go. And that's a good thing. In the evening, when the shadows of the hills fall over the last few meters of the path, you know you haven't just been for a stroll. You've been on the move—outside and within yourself. Anyone who has climbed all seven hills has found more than just the way back.

And then it lies down there like a forgotten eye of the landscape: Lake Süns. Dark and round, framed by undulating meadows where summer dwells. No noise, no boats, no paths that claim to lead to the shore. The lake simply looks back – as if you yourself were the stranger in a story that has been told here for much longer. Whoever reaches the pass stands on a line between worlds. Behind you is the lake, in front of you the path to the peak – and to the side, the view stretches far down, where the Rhine Valley disappears. On a clear day, some say you can see Lake Constance. I think you see yourself above all – smaller, but also lighter than you thought. It's not the grand gestures that characterize this hike. It's the way the light clings to the slopes, the way the wind accompanies the path, the way the trail doesn't lead you but invites you. And anyone standing up there—between the Ragazer Grat, the Sünser Joch, and the dark blue of the small lake—may notice: The most beautiful places don't scream. They whisper.