Usually, the Gods of Good Travel Weather smile sweetly upon us. But not in Hallstatt.

Instead, the Gods dumped two solid days of rain upon us, accompanied by a sharp drop in temperature.

On the first day, we retreated into the salt mine – as you do – to stay dry, convinced it would be better the next day. But no, as our host, Klaus Fischer, had warned us – the next day was just as bad – maybe worse. Clouds and fog wrapped and obliterated the surrounding mountains. The waterfall that drops, literally, through the middle of Hallstatt village became a thundering torrent that pushed a plume of silt-laden water well out into the dark lake. Then the lake itself started to rise, submerging Klaus’s beautiful little lakeside garden. And it was cold. Get the picture?

So again we retreated indoors, and again high up the mountains, this time into the Dachstein Ice Cave. Well, it was dry inside the cave, wasn’t it, and even at minus 1°C, only marginally colder than outside.

Later in the day, the drizzle slowed enough for us to walk up into the Echern valley, near Hallstatt. Although it was dark with cloud and cold, it was a lovely walk slowly upwards through the woods, with misty mountain walls close on either side. We met only a few idiots like ourselves out for a walk – it was peaceful and green. A wildflower meadow along the way had a high, delicate waterfall of its very own and then, near the head of the valley we reached Strub-Brucke , a narrow river torrent rushing with water on its way to the rising lake below.

Despite the grim weather, we enjoyed Hallstatt hugely. It is beautiful, layered up a steep, narrow ledge underneath the brow of the mountain, with two centuries-old churches and houses built into the rock and seeming to hang out over the quiet lake. Steep, narrow lanes and countless steps interconnect layers of the village that have developed over centuries.

As Klaus promised, the morning we left was considerably brighter and even a little warmer so we packed early and went for a walk in the quiet streets. We really didn’t want to leave, but our onward plans determined otherwise, so off we went in the little Stefanie across the lake to catch the train to Salzburg.

Despite the tourist hordes that begin about 10am each day and abruptly cease at about 5.30pm when the last coaches of the day leave, Hallstatt seems to be sustaining its own identity. There is a strong sense of continuity about the place. The same families still live here after generations, and local customs are intact – including the substantial staples of Austrian cuisine. For more about that, read ‘Hip in Hallstatt’.