October 5, 2026, 5:22 am | Read time: 9 minutes

I sit in the middle of nowhere, at nearly 1,000 meters altitude, and before me unfolds a miniature world. Down in the valley, thousands of lights shine in the clear night, and there are even more in the sky. A magical sight: At the end of my third day on the Liechtenstein Trail, I found it, unexpectedly, around another bend. I’ve been on the road for what feels like an eternity, and now the whole country suddenly lies at my feet like a model train scene. Breathe in the cold, spicy air, don’t forget to exhale, and just marvel at the majesty of what seems to me, there’s no other way to say it, like divine creation.

Admittedly, the Liechtenstein Trail hadn’t spoiled me with such proverbial highlights until then. On the contrary, time and again, I asked myself what I was actually doing here. Yet I had long dreamed of personally walking this unique hiking trail. Because in just 75 kilometers, you can traverse the entire principality on foot in five stages, passing through all its eleven municipalities. How dreamy that had sounded, and how sobering the reality had sometimes been.

No Ideal Conditions

I admit, the conditions didn’t necessarily favor the Liechtenstein Trail. Beforehand, I had hiked for five days in the absolutely spectacular, wild nature around the Austrian St. Anton am Arlberg and had been in constant awe of the archaic mountain world. Now I had taken four days to explore all of Liechtenstein. But it would take quite a while and a lot of nerves before I truly reached the soul of this small country. Because the Liechtenstein Trail, unfortunately, is absolutely catastrophically signposted in parts. Or sometimes not at all. And there’s hardly anything a passionate hiker hates more.

The tour begins with high spirits at the train station of the Austrian town of Feldkirch. From there, bus line 11 takes you into Liechtenstein, through the entire country in about an hour and a half, and to Sargans in Switzerland. However, I get off shortly after the border control, barely ten minutes into the ride, at the Schaanwald customs office. This is where my tour is supposed to begin, and I immediately see a promising sign with the inscription “Hiking Trail.” This then leads through the Maurer Riet nature reserve, towards Mauren. But unfortunately not directly there, because due to unclear signage at a junction, I go the wrong way for the first of countless times. Only briefly, but it does something to your mind. A hike is especially enjoyable when you have nothing else to do but walk because you can absolutely rely on the route. Well, on the Liechtenstein Trail, it wasn’t the last time I got lost. That was just a small foretaste.

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A Lot of Asphalt

Once in Mauren, I discover another rather annoying feature of the route. It leads, thanks to the most absurd detours and twists, through an entire town. Not a single milk can is left out along the way. This unfortunately drastically increases the amount of asphalt you walk on over the 75 kilometers. In my case, I now walk through a residential area. With truly luxurious, architecturally modern houses. Then past the local church. More or less the only reliable landmark, by the way, if you, like me, often find yourself hopelessly lost within a town.

A first wow moment comes when the Obere Burg Schellenberg behind Mauren offers a short rest and a magnificent view of the mountains. Then it finally goes through the forest, past the ruins of the Untere Burg–and reliably towards the first really big annoyance of the tour. Because from the ruins, I follow the signs that say it’s just 45 minutes to my day’s destination, Ruggell. Highly motivated, I slide down the muddy forest path, continuing to follow the signs. And suddenly, at the next intersection, I’m hit with a bombshell: From here, it’s suddenly an hour and forty minutes to Ruggell.

Local Courtship Rituals

It’s getting dark, so I eventually find a quiet place to sleep near the town. Let the frustration dissipate a bit. Earlier, I had gotten lost again due to poorly placed (and barely visible) signage. The next morning, the Liechtenstein Trail leads me through all of Ruggell before I reach Gamprin via a forest area. Then along the banks of the Rhine to Bendern with its beautiful church.

In Eschen, a nice couple invites me to the terrace of their long-closed inn for a beer. Restaurants along the Liechtenstein Trail are slowly dying out. No one wants to work in service anymore. COVID-19 has done a lot of damage, even in a comparatively wealthy country. My mood improves as I watch the village youth engage in their courtship rituals over coffee and a sweet pastry in a bakery. A boy, maybe 15, drives up on his tractor and parks it in a regular car parking space. The others take turns noisily riding a few rounds on two old, souped-up mopeds. As if my nervous system had sensed it would need these reserves of strength, the route leads me further to the stage destination Nendeln. And straight into the next disaster.

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The Smallest Capital in Europe

Here, the Liechtenstein Trail first leads through an industrial area. And then directly along a busy highway. Needless to say, the signage within the town is so confusing that I end up taking several increasingly frustrated laps. But then it finally gets really beautiful again as I struggle up a steep forest path to Planken. The smallest municipality in Liechtenstein greets with majestic views of the valley and mountains. Otherwise, like every place so far, it shines through the complete absence of any sights.

The third day begins with absolutely perfect weather and the climb of an observation tower over Schaan, and soon I’m in the capital, Vaduz. The smallest capital in Europe has not even 6,000 inhabitants. The center, affectionately called “Städtle” at a bus stop, is clean, tidy, and attractive. Here is also where you meet the few tourists of the least visited country on our continent. And all at once, which, after what feels like a hundred years of solitude on the rest of the route, is a medium shock.

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Cheese Fondue and Views

In addition to the impressive museum mile, there is finally a whole selection of restaurants here, and in the upscale “Chapter Two,” they actually serve me a divine cheese fondue after I put on my saddest puppy eyes. Normally, it’s only available for two people. Not such a wise choice, though, given the fact that now, past Vaduz Castle, the inaccessible seat of the princely family, the Liechtenstein Trail climbs a total of 700 meters steeply uphill for the next few hours. The reward is, however, much greater when I then marvel at the vast land below me at the listed Prufatscheng farmstead. A truly incredible sight that reveals the entire beauty of the small country in all its glory.

What follows is the aforementioned evening under the glow of the lights in the valley and the sky. A view I simply can’t get enough of. For hours, I enjoy this open-air cinema from my box seat, a bench in front of an old farmhouse. In the twilight, a few chamois had greeted me, and now the whole world seems compressed to the size of a toy landscape. Freshly rested, the next morning begins with a hearty breakfast in Triesenberg, then steeply down forest paths into the valley. Today, I think, I won’t get lost, highly motivated, and then, of course, in Triesen, I promptly fall into the next local trap.

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A Feast to Conclude

Here, the signage of the Liechtenstein Trail is so confusing that eventually, a kind local takes pity on me and drives me to the next connection point. I feel ultimately humiliated in my hiking pride, especially since I had already tried several times in vain to consult Google Maps. With mixed feelings, I now head to Balzers, the destination of the last stage. Incidentally, the official website of the trail recommends starting there. But since I’ve always had my own mind, I thought beforehand: I’ll just walk the other way, what could go wrong? Four ladies, coming from the “right” direction, confirm to me that they also got thoroughly lost at the beginning.

What remains is the triumphant entry into Balzers, where all the restaurants are closed on a Sunday, but not the local Coop supermarket. I then climb the 60-meter-high hill where the imposing Gutenberg Castle towers high above the Rhine plain. I still can’t believe that this is it. After all, I’ve walked across an entire country, so where is my damn parade? But here too, as in the rest of the country, the streets are empty. It increasingly feels like I’ve walked through a giant museum village. An entire country, and I was there for four days, but I feel like I’ve seen hardly anything, had hardly any real points of contact. At least, I do get a fitting farewell banquet. They’re grilling sausages in front of the supermarket.