The Bavarian Alps

I arrived at Munich International Airport on July 31^st evening. Estella and Frank were already waiting for me at the airport. Estella is a long time member of IOC and lives in Kobe. She was spending her summer holidays in her native England and decided to join me in this trip in Germany. Frank is a former member of IOC, he lived in Mino, Osaka for six years until 3 years ago, when he came back to his country, Germany. Since he is living in Munich and also an avid hiker, he decided to climb the Bavarian Alps with us. Estella and I were going to south of Munich to meet up with Dominikus in Oberau, while Frank will join us later to the hike.
We were going by train to Oberau, since I spoke no German, I had fully entrusted Estella with the role of navigating the German train system. It was my first time in Germany and Europe, naturally, I was very excited to be aboard the German train. It was quite spacious and

comfortable, unlike cramped Japanese trains. I was fully settled in and prepared to enjoy my one hour and twenty minutes ride to Oberau when the train stopped and everyone else on the train got off, leaving only Estella and I alone, nonplussed and surprised. “Why are we alone on the train?” I wondered aloud. Estella shook her head; she couldn’t give an explanation either. We got off the train anyhow. We were in a large, dark and empty station. Rows of trains were lying in their tracks silently, giant red beasts resting, getting ready for the busy schedule tomorrow. I spotted a lone white figure under a bright lamp at the end of the train track and signaled Estella to him. Estella went up to the huge German man, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Santa Claus, and started to talk to him in German. After a few minutes of involved discussion, Estella came back to me with a wide-eyed look. “We are in Munich Central! Somehow we got on the wrong train and went in the opposite direction!” My jaws dropped immediately.

The next train was thirty minutes later, it would take us one and a half hour to reach Oberau and by the time we reach there, poor Dominikus will have to pick us up at exactly midnight. I dozed off on the train; flight fatigue has taken its toll on me. But somehow I got up before we reached Oberau, maybe it was the fear of ending up on the other end of the train track that woke me up. It was good timing. I woke up just to hear the train driver making the announcement over the PA system “Blah blah blah OBERAU”. We quickly put on our backpacks and scrambled for the door. Just like in Japan, train doors in rural Germany do not open automatically but there wasn’t any nice, easy-to-locate buttons for passengers to press to open the doors. We were staring at the door for a few moments after the train stopped before Estella realized this and said “Push the levers and open the doors!” Levers! They use levers in Germany instead of buttons, how European! Finally we managed to open the doors, get off the train and were ready to greet Dominikus who should be standing by the station… except for the fact that there was no station. Estella and I began to panic when the train started moving away. What were we going to do, being stranded in darkness in south Germany? “Shit!” And then the train finally bade us farewell, with its last car plunging into darkness to reveal what was on the other side. Dominikus was standing there, right by the station which was hidden on the other side of the train. It finally dawned on us that we got off on the wrong side of the train. I rushed up to Dominikus and gave him a warm hug. “Man, I’m so glad we finally found you.” What an adventure! We got lost before the actual hike, this was already fun even before we started hiking in the mountains. (We later found out that trains in Germany will sometimes arrive in a platform different than the original one, but usually an announcement is given, apparently we missed this announcement before boarding on the wrong train.)

I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, after a much needed rest in Dominikus’ cozy bed that he had generously offered me. We had a sumptuous Bavarian breakfast of homemade nutella, cheese, bread and foie gras, prepared by Dominikus’ mother, Sylvia. Sylvia was a tall woman, with blond hair, whom Dominikus takes after. Estella and I made a proper introduction to the host family at the breakfast table. We exchanged pleasantries and talked about how the idea for this trip was started in Japan and also other stories about Japan.

It had begun to rain two days ago and it brought the temperature down in Oberammergau, where Dominikus’ house is, to a cool 15 degrees centigrade. The summer had reached a sweltering 35 degrees centigrade before the rain started to pour. The original plan was to do a three-day trek in the Bavarian Alps. We would start off from Lake Eibsee and follow a trail that will lead us to the Austrian side of the Alps, and then begin a steep climb from the south side of the mountain up to Zugspitze, 2964m, which is the highest peak in Germany. From Zugspitze we will descend to about 2100m, where we will stay at Knorrhutte. On the second day, we will make a long descend to Reintal valley, about 1100m and then climb up 800m to Schloss Schachen. From Schloss Schachen we will hike to Meilerhutte and stay for the night. On the final day we will climb up to another peak, Musterstein 2476m, from there we will descend to the foot of the mountain on the Austrian side and return to Dominikus’ house in Oberammergau by transport. However, potential bad weather had forced us to make changes to this plan. We decided that depending on the weather, we may have to make adjustments by cutting short the trek on the second or third day and come down the mountains earlier. After a hard morning’s debate on the trekking plans, we had the afternoon free. Dominikus suggested that we visit the famous castles Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau. It took us twenty minutes to drive to the castles, on the way Dominikus explained to us a little bit of the history behind the castles. Neuschwanstein was built by King Ludwig II and the nearby Hohenschwangau was the castle of his parents. Ludwig was a king of Bavaria who was also a fan of Richard Wagner’s operas. He was hugely fond of the fantasy stories depicted in the operas, and so he had Castle Neuschwanstein built to try to fit to the fantasies. From afar, Neuschwanstein does look like a castle in fairy land, Disneyland comes to mind immediately. When we arrived at the visitor’s park, there was already a long queue of tourists lining up for the tickets, despite being a rainy Tuesday afternoon. We paid eighteen euros per person for a guided tour in English. Hohenschwangau was where Ludwig lived and entertained Richard Wagner. It was a relatively small beautiful castle, with the walls painted in yellow. The interior was decorated with frescos depicting stories of battles in the Romantic style, where the most distinct feature is the lack of blood in all the battle scenes. It was also in here that Ludwig spied on the progress of the construction his dream castle using a telescope. The tour in Hohenschwangau took about forty minutes and since it was still an hour away to the next guided tour in Neuschwanstein, we decided to explore the surroundings. We hiked up a nearby hill where Marienbrucke was situated. Marienbrucke is a steel bridge spanning across Pollat Gorge behind Neuschwanstein, the bridge was situated to give a clear view of the castle with the surrounding flat land and Lake Alpsee in the background, making the castle appear to look like the mythical castle of King Arthur. It was a popular spot for tourist to get a picture of the castle and it was no surprise to find the bridge fully packed with people when we arrived that the bridge. We had to do a little pushing around before finding a nice spot for the camera.

Neuschwanstein is a hugely popular tourist attraction and millions come to visit this fairy-tale castle every year. Fortunately, the castle authorities have worked out the system of guided tour perfectly and we were able to enjoy the tour without any overbearing crowds. The tour guide spoke crisp British English which allowed us to understand the tour easily. Neuschwanstein was designed to reflect the days of medieval kings and knights even though building began in 1869. Each room was decorated with furniture and painting that tell stories of such as mythical battles with dragons, knights seeking the Holy Grail and there was even a room built to look like a limestone cave, which is an allusion to a scene in the opera Tannhauser. The most impressive part of the tour was the Singers’ hall, which was the largest room in the castle, built to allow operas to be performed here. Ludwig was a king but he did not possess the powers of the old kings of sending knights to noble quests. Such attention to details in each room revealed unmistakably his desire to be like the kings of yore. In the end, his attempt to realize his fantasies almost bankrupted the government of Bavaria and his ministers had to declare him insane in order to strip him of what remaining powers he had as king. Ludwig died in Lake Starnberg under mysterious circumstances, near Munich in 1886, after he was deposed by his government.

After the fascinating tour of Bavarian history in Neuschwanstein, we returned to Dominikus’ house, stopping on the way at the local grocery to buy some rye bread, jam and cereals for the hike. It was dinner time when we arrived back at the house. We were greeted by Dominikus’ father, Martin. He was a slim and wiry man; it was obvious that he was also an avid outdoor person. He had a thick, black mustache that gave him a grave look but his smile revealed him as a gentle and friendly person. At the dinner table, we met Dominikus’ brother. Korbinian looked somewhat like his elder brother but had a well-toned build and a killer smile that can cause girls to swoon. He spoke fluent English with a slight Aussie twang, apparently acquired while he was living in Australia. It was a nice dinner gathering and the company was excellent. The food consisted of weisswurst (white sausage), pasta, cheese and wine. A little explanation must be done of weisswurst. It literally means white sausage, and it is a specialty of south Germany, including Bavaria. It is made of a mixture of pork and veal and also pork gut. It is boiled briefly in water and then eaten as it is or dipped with sweet mustard sauce. The soft contents of the sausage are often sucked out of its skin, because of its slightly exotic source of meat and way of eating; it is not eaten or even considered edible north of the Danube River, a fact which the Bavarians are particularly proud of. After a long dinner table conversation, we retired to our rooms to get ready for the big day tomorrow.

We first met Frank at Oberau Station at 7 am, after which we proceeded on to the cable car station by Lake Eibsee. The cable car brings tourists directly to the top of the mountain of Zugspitze, Estella joked that perhaps she should wait for the rest of us on the top by taking the cable car. But it turned out to be a beautiful day and we weren’t going to let Estella miss the fun. The rain had stopped earlier this morning, the sky was still half covered by clouds, swathes of blue sky could be seen and the air was fresh and cool. We began our hike up the Bavarian Alps. The hike started at a mountain motor road winding up a gentle slope, we left the road very soon and followed a foot trail. The trail led us through forests and wide fields as we ascended. Eventually we could see Lake Eibsee lying below us, a clear, blue, little pond amongst the green sea of trees. Estella whipped out her camera and chirped cheerily like a young English schoolgirl, “Oh, look at the lake. It’s so beautiful!”

We walked for a further thirty minutes or so and decided to take a short break on the trail. Right in front of us was a magnificent view. A tiny mountain hut was surrounded by the forest, a swath of green grass kept the trees away from the hut, and the forest was in turned surrounded by the white and gray mountains. I wondered who owned that hut — it existed in such a beautiful setting as one could find only in a picture— whoever lives there truly lives an idyllic life.

We continued on the trail and came to the German-Austrian border; it was remarkable for the fact that there was nothing there to mark the border except for an old, weathered wooden plaque proclaiming that here is the border and the Austrian colors of red and white painted on a large rock nearby. The Austrian side of mountain was chosen as the path of ascent because it was fastest way up to Zugspitze on foot. The mountain trail quickly passed through alpine vegetation to barren talus fields; large broken rocks that were once part of the mountain lay strewn on the slopes. There were only small brushes and the occasional lone pine tree. We had to watch our step in case of kicking any rocks down the precipice, setting off a mini-avalanche and hitting climbers below. The trail became narrower, and the climb steeper. There were many moments where the trail tapered down to a thin line and we were practically hugging the side of the mountain and walking on the edge, gripping tightly the steel cables hanging on the rock wall was the only thing that prevented us from careening over the edge. Finally we came upon a mountain hut, Wiener Neustadter Hutte, managed by the Austrians. It was to be our lunch stop before the toughest part of our ascent. We had some rye bread, cheese and Frank offered us tiny red turnips, which was crunchy and quite tasty. The next part of the climb required us to ascent a steep incline up to the peak. We had to wear helmets in case of falling rocks and the only way up was to scale up iron bars and steel cables that were hammered into the face of the cliff, it was a continuous four hundred meters climb up on ladders. As dangerous as it sounds, it was actually much easier than climbing up steps. Climbing up on all fours is easier when you can use your arms to lift your weight, climbing up steps was more tiring as only the lower body is working to lift the heavy backpack I’m carrying. Even though it was a long ascent, there were nooks and crannies where you can rest and enjoy the view of the vertical drop down the foot of the cliff. The climb was interesting as we had to navigate through crevices and tunnels, breaking the monotony of just climbing up a long ladder.

The climb to the top was somewhat anticlimactic. The temperature had dropped to minus one degree centigrade but the peak of Zugspitze, 2964m, was crowded by tourists of all manner and forms. Many of them were wearing normal street clothes with a jacket or coat, and were not breaking any sweat. Some were serious climbers like us who took the real way up the mountain, but we were few among the cable car crowd. The golden cross marking the highest point stood on top of a rock separated from the main part of complex. After negotiating through the line of tourists we finally made it to the summit. The summit was mostly covered in clouds and fog, so we couldn’t see the landscape but we were nonetheless happy to have finally arrived.

We made a long descent to reach our resting place at Knorrhutte. The descent turned out to be much more trickier than climbing up. Natural weathering and erosion processes had formed piles of tiny stones on the slopes of the mountain called scree field. The scree would give way easily under my feet and as a result I would slide down a little with every step. I would try to steady myself by stepping slowly and gently and it only caused me to lose my balance faster and finally landing on my butt. I floundered on the slope for some time before Dominikus noticed that I was lagging behind the group. He came up to me and taught me the proper way to walk on scree. The trick was to allow the stones to slide and dig in the heel. Eventually the sliding will stop because the heel gets deeper into the scree, and then the other foot can be put forward. After the practical lesson on scree walking I found it much easier to go down and finally caught up with the rest of the group. On the way down, the sky cleared up and finally showed its bright azure colors, we could see the surrounding mountains clearly, it was a pity that this didn’t happened while we were on top of Zugspitze.

We reached Knorrhutte after an hour and half of trekking, having descended around eight hundred meters from the summit. Knorrhutte was a well-equipped mountain lodge with all the necessary facilities for weary mountaineers. The lodge also served very good German dishes and the waitress was friendly and cute to boot. I told Frank that the waitress was very cute, and then he told me about the history of fensterln (pronounced as fen-shta-len). Fensterln was the traditional way of wooing a girl in Bavaria. A young man would take a ladder with him to the house of a girl and furtively plant the ladder next to the window to her room, climb up the ladder and hoping that she would open the window to allow him in and begin a love affair. It was an interesting way to know a girl and I thought may be I could try it on the waitress. The next time she came to our table bringing our dinner, I introduced myself to her and she said her name was Rut (pronounced as root). When I mentioned about the Bavarian tradition of fensterln, she started laughing. “Nicht fensterln!” she said as she shook her head. I could see she was almost in tears from laughing. I guess that means I don’t have to find a ladder tonight.

It started to rain the next morning, and it didn’t seem to be letting up. Dominikus said that we could decide to whether to go to Schachen and stay in the mountains for another night when we reach the next rest point, Bockhutte. We had to descend one thousand meters to the river valley of Reintal. It was a long but easy hike. The rain, however, did not stop. It continued to drizzle for the whole of two hours that we were on the trail. Even though we were well prepared for bad weather, we still got wet underneath our raingear. We were glad to find that Bockhutte served hot drinks and warm food, Frank insisted on having lunch in the hut to escape from the cold. No one objected to that idea and we followed him into the hut. Frank ordered pasta while I had pea soup. The pea soup came with fresh German bread. I was surprised at how delicious the bread was, it was firm yet soft and gives a pleasant chewing experience. Frank said that it was just common bread, but it was best common bread I have ever had.

The next stop was Schachen and it was 800 meters above us. The map says it will take three hours to reach the top and spending three more hours in the cold rain gave pause to all of us. But Estella was never one to back away from a challenge and she egged Dominikus on to agree to continue the hike. Frank and I chose to follow the lady’s wishes. Fortunately, it took just two hours instead of three. The aerie was in sight, sitting serenely aloft. Schachen was the summer retreat and hunting lodge for King Ludwig II. He would visit the mountain villa on his birthday in August every year. Although it looked like an ordinary wooden house on the outside, it was opulent and luxurious inside. We entered the building and there were already two visitors waiting for the guided tour to start. Unfortunately it was only in German and I tried to look interested at what the guide was saying. The first floor of the Schloss Schachen was the living quarters of Ludwig. Although simple in comparison to Neuschwanstein, the rooms were furnished with beautiful paintings and furniture of fine worksmanship as befitting royalty. However, it is on the second floor that Ludwig’s taste for opulence was realized. The palace room was decorated with a fountain in the center, huge vases with peacock feathers, colored windows and furnished with sofas covered by brocade with Turkish designs. The Turkish Hall was designed with the idea of importing the oriental atmosphere into this remote mountain lodge. It is said that when the sun shines through the colored windows, the whole room will light up as if it were of another world. At the end of the long tour, Dominikus was shaking visibly from the cold; Frank and Estella were also looking paler than usual. We originally planned to go to Meilerhutte, which was about another hour away, but there is another lodge just 50 meters away from Schloss Schachen. Dominikus was already taking the lead to the nearby lodge. “I guess we are not going to Meilerhutte anymore.” I wondered aloud. “You can go to Meilerhutte if you want, but this is as far I go today!” rejoined Frank.

I was hoping that we would be able to meet the friendly owners of the lodge, but it turned out that the owners were anything but friendly. It is common practice to allow weary travelers to munch on their bit of ration in the lodge, except for some rare exceptions. Dominikus and Estella were quite tired and hungry from the long hike up the top of Schachen and were looking forward to their lunch in a warm dining hall since they didn’t eat any at Bockhutte, until the young owner of Schachenhaus by the name of Andreas whipped out a toy gun (or so I thought) and waved it threateningly at us. Apparently, we have just flouted the golden rule of Schachenhaus, where no outside food is allowed to be consumed in the dining hall. Dominikus and Andreas were engaged in a heated exchange in fast and furious German. Although I spoke no German, I could see that Dominikus was trying to reason with the German cowboy to be more reasonable. Alas, no amount of reason could convince the irrational creature and we resigned ourselves to stop eating. The rest of the stay in the lodge was without incident but the little episode with Andreas fouled our mood. This was certainly not a place to recommend fellow hikers.

We woke up early next morning at 7 am. After some negotiation with the lady owner (who was more reasonable than her son), we were allowed to have our own breakfast in the patio outside the dining hall, but we had to buy a pot of hot water that was worth a princely 3.00 euros (most expensive water I had ever drunk). We finished packing and moved out by 9 am. The long and cold hike and the non-stop raining were not too appealing to us. We unanimously decided to take the shortest route down the mountain and finish the hike. It took us more than three hours to finish the descent to reach the bottom of Reintal valley. The rain had finally stopped. There was a map at the end of the forest trail that detailed the trails of the Bavarian Alps. We took a picture of the map with the help of a by-passer to commemorate the end of the hike.

There was still a little bit of hiking to do. Partnachklamm is a narrow gorge that runs about 700 meters which is the natural conduit of Partnach river. A tunnel was blasted in the side of the gorge to allow tourists to walk beside the river. This tunnel is especially famous for the beautiful icicle formations in winter. The tunnel was so narrow at places that we had to press our bodies next to the wall whenever tourists came in the opposite direction. I was fascinated by the fast flowing river thundering right beside me. It was mesmerizing to watch the currents, eddies forming and dissolving in the flow. I could almost touch the white foam spilling over from the river, yet if I were to do that, I would certainly be swept away instantly and be crushed against the gorge like a hapless doll in the water. Putting macabre thoughts aside, I hurriedly join Dominikus and Frank ahead of me while Estella was still clicking away with her camera behind. We finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel, literally. We hiked a little further beyond the entrance of the tunnel and end up at the Olympia skistadion, which was a ski jump stadium built for the 1936 Winter Olympics. It was here that Dominikus’ mother finally brought us back to civilization.