21st Aug – 29th Aug 2024
We all know how I feel about ‘big ticket destinations’ that create tourist hotspots, the crowds they attract and the antisocial behaviour that can seep out of probably quite normal people when they are frustrated with queuing or unhealthily focused on taking photos and videos of themselves in these places. Some might say that we can be unhealthily focused on the behaviour of others, we might call it a hobby. Despite this, we found ourselves heading for a trilogy of ‘must see’ locations. We took a breath and joined the scrum…
Füssen, in the region of Swabia at the foothills of the Alps, is the town over which presides possibly/allegedly the most ‘fairy tale’ of castles, Neuschwanstein. This was built by King Ludwig ll of Bavaria between 1869 and 1886 as a retreat from his official residence and life in Munich and also in honour of the composer Richard Wagner, whom he greatly admired. Ludwig struggled to combine the responsibilities of monarchical life and the pressure to produce an heir with the fact that he was an eccentric, introverted homosexual who would much rather spend his days doing creative things and being No. 1 fanboy of his hero, Wagner. This pretty castle was his bolt hole from reality, but unfortunately he died in fairly suspicious circumstances along side his doctor, in a lake in 1886, before the castle was finished.
Neuschwanstein is quite the sight from a distance, perched on a rocky outcrop, surrounded by forest and with mountains as its backdrop. Disney apparently used it as inspiration for their Magic Kingdom. It has been open to the public since not long after Ludwig’s demise and has to date been visited by over 61 million people, about 6000 per day in the summer. This is the main reason people come to Füssen, a pretty town in its own right, complete with castle, monastery, church and old town. It also boasts the River Lech, a man-made lake and a rather impressive lakeside festival hall, belying its other identity as that of a music town. The town has a very noteable history as a centre for violin and lute making.
We arrived and slotted ourselves into our reserved spot in one of the three busy Stellplatzes in this area, 2km from the town centre. This was an occasion on which we had been sensible and pre-booked, and just as well. The town was heaving.
The next day was ‘castle day’. In retrospect we should have cycled, but decided instead that seeing as our ‘tourist tax’ levy gave us a free bus pass, we would make use of it. The castle is about 6km out of town, and we were 2km out of town in the other direction. Our public transport experience began in a mediocre fashion as the bus to town was 20 minutes late and when it arrived it was already loaded. The cramped, hot and sweaty ride to town was slow due to traffic and if we had walked in the first place we would have arrived sooner. In town the queue at the bus stop for the hourly bus up to the castle was about 150 people long, with a 30 minute wait until it was due. One look at the line told us that we would not make it onto the next bus. This is when it dawned on us that a) we really should have cycled, b) there was some woeful underprovision of public transport, c) there are lots of people who will patiently wait in a queue for a long time without thinking through their options and d) we were now committed to an unplanned walk.
It was, in fact, a lovely walk along a beautifully maintained cyle path (grrrr) up to the castle and we arrived relaxed and in good spirits an hour later. There are in fact two castles here. There is Ludwig’s lofty and impressive Neuschwanstein and then there is the more modest lower Hohenschwangu Castle. There has been a castle on this site since the 1300s and it went through many hands and itterations until the dilapidated building came into the ownership of Ludwig’s father, King Maximillian ll, whilst Ludwig ll was a child. He renovated it and used it for many years as his summer residence and thus Ludwig and his brother spent many formative years here as they grew up. It was the reason this hill became his happy place.
As expected, the staging area for the castles was a chaotic and busy melée of people, cars, tour buses, shuttle buses and horse carriages. We knew that there were no available tickets for entry into Neuschwanstein today and we had no desire to see around ‘the other one’. The only ways to get up the hill to the main castle are electric shuttle bus, horse and carriage (with electric motor assist and braking-very modern retro) or a 30 minute schlep by foot. We were on a roll, so carried on carrying on. There were a few people on the trail, but the crowds were obviously mostly playing at sardines on the buses.
Now I’m not saying that we were disappointed with the castle when we arrived at the top – it is after all quite a massive monument of well designed and crafted stone work – but up close it is, well, just a bit too new and perfect. That, and just as they say the worst view of Paris is from the Eiffel tower, its beauty is best to be admired from a distance. We arrived, we opined, we descended. On our way down, via the more trafficked route associated with the shuttle bus, a chap motioned to Nick as if he wanted him to take a photo of him at a lookout. Well, that was close. What he actually wanted was someone to take some video of him as he (apparently) nonchelantly wandered up the path whilst looking serenely off into the distance with the castle in the background. FFS.
Having ‘done’ the castles we headed back. Initially we had planned to get the bus but the sun and lack of fluids must have got to our heads because we decided that carrying on walking was a great idea. By the time we got back to camp we had done 14km in normal clothes, merely comfy shoes and 50oml of water between us. Lesser hikes have involved hiking shoes, poles and a backpack containing emergency clothing layers, snacks and 2L of water. Go figure.
Of note, our campsite in Füssen was very close to three supermarkets. Why is it that as natural rural dwellers we are very used to the food shops being miles away and can happily go a week between supply runs. Here we completely lost the ability to meal plan and made SEVEN trips to various of the establishments in ONE AFTERNOON. It’s the first step on the slippery slope to Doordashing ice cream at 9pm.
Next stop, the long-windedly named, alpine ski town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen. Formed by the almagamation of the two towns of, you guessed it, Garmisch and Partenkirchen, it was the host of the 1936 Winter Olympics, the first to include alpine skiing. Hard to imagine the winter games without it now. In winter the town is a magnet for skiers, hosting one of the Ski World Cup meets, and in the summer there are an almost infinite number of hikes in the area. It is close to Zugspitze, Germany’s highest peak at 2962m, and this is really the reason that we, and many other people, make the trip here. Our camp was a couple of kilometers from the centre of Garmisch on a Stellplatz at the base station of the gondala that went up The Wank, a smaller mountain of about 1700m. Obviously here the ‘W’ is pronounced ‘V’, but the purile part of our brains cannot do this. I defy any English speaker to deny that they are any less immature than us.
Anyway. It was a very handy spot and we arrived so early that we had time to pack a picnic and head up The Wank (stop it…) gondola before midday. It was a lovely day, sunny but not too hot, and the views were amazing. We chose a route to hike back down and set off, getting confused almost immediately. Teutonic efficiency had designed a fantastic map of the mountain with accompanying logical labels for each trail and how they intersected to create routes in various different directions. The paths themselves were clearly signposted and also identified with logical labels. Unfortunately the two systems bore no relation to each other whatsoever. This created a bit of faffing about at the top for a few minutes whilst making sense of the situation – which was apparently was mostly my fault – but we were soon on the right path going in the right direction and the descent began.
This time I had the Poleskis, which did definitely help with the tricky and the steep bits, but three hours down hill took its toll on the knees and toes again. No, lessons are rarely learnt.
The scenery was lovely, we had the trail almost to ourselves (which is amazing given the number of people that ride the gondola up) and the obligatory ham and cheese sandwich picnic was delightful as usual. The trail miraculously ended right next to where we were parked up and the rest of the day was spent sitting around, groaning whenever we had to get up out of our seats. Love hiking,me.
The next day, having shelled out a not inconsiderable sum of money for the pleasure, we headed to the ‘Top of Germany’ (their description, in English), Zugspitze Mountain. It was a magnificent bluebird day and the perfect weather for a mountain ascent. The journey consisted of taking a bus to Garmisch station where there is a dedicated Zugspitze train terminal. Here a 7.5km train journey took us along the valley floor to an interchange where we transferred to the historic cog wheel train. This 11.5km section then climbs nearly 2000m up to the Zugspitze plateau, including 4.5km through a tunnel carved through the mountain. Epic.
The plateau was like a moon scape, covered in rocks of all sizes and dotted with ski-lifts in summer hibernation. The sun was blazing and it was hot, hardly feeling like we were at 2500m, until we tried to walk up hill. We wandered around and walked up to the edge of the glacier. This has retreated so much that it is no longer technically a glacier, it is known as ‘dead ice’. This is when a glacier has lost so much volume that it stops moving. Now it is just in its death throes.
We bucked the trend of building stone cairns, building Inukshuks instead and visited the little chapel. Of course one can eat and drink up here to one’s heart’s content and of course we sucumbed to currywurst and chips for our lunch. This we had to eat inside in the buffet restaurant as it was far too hot to sit outside on the terrace in the sun.
Full of sausage, we embarked on the next phase of the trip, the gondola ride up the final 500m to the summit. Below us we could see the multitude of ‘serious climbers’ making their final ascent, crawling like ants in single file up the final scree trail and then along a ridge to get to the top, then queuing for ages to get ‘that photo’ at the peak. Mass tourism takes many forms.
For our part, thus far, the day had seen us part of a very manageable crowd within a well planned system that cannot be over subscribed by virtue of its ticketing system. Made it all very bearable. The views from the summit were unworldly. There were so many surrounding peaks and from here one can see to four countries: Germany, Austria, Switzerland and Italy. Eibsee, at the base of Zugspitze, one of the most beautiful lakes of the Baviarian Alps (and our next destination) looked quite discobombulated from up here.
There is an amazing viewing terrace up here (and the obligatory restaurant) and after a slow lap (most of which Nick spent with his knees knocking because he handles heights badly) it was time to head down. This next phase of the journey was in a gondola back down to Eibsee, which is where the train interchange also was. This is quite an epic feat of engineering, featuring the world’s longest unsupported gondola cable span of 3.2km and the highest ascent/decent of any single gondola, of 2km. In fact the whole cable system only had one single supporting pylon on its whole length. Each of the two gondola cars can take nearly 50 people. The cabin effortlessly decended, and it felt like we were returning to Earth.
It was even hotter down here. We walked the short distance to the lakeshore and found the crazy crowds again. The lake itself was gorgeous, a deep blue colour surrounded by thick forest and mountains. It is possible to drive up here and park in one of the large carparks in order to enjoy the lake and about a gazillion people had all had the same idea.
The lake itself was easily big enough to accomodate all the visitors, but the car park was not. It was a one-in-one-out situation, meaning that the queue of traffic coming up the hill was moving very, very slowly. We headed to the station and got the next train back to Garmisch. Along our way we could see that the almost stationary, nose-to-tail traffic extended the best part of the way back to town, at least 5km. All those people who had decided, on a busy summer Saturday, that a dip in the lake would be a great antidote to the heat of the day, were spending at least an hour and a half in a traffic jam, in the heat of the day. I felt sorry for all the people that had done the right thing and opted to take the buses which were also unfortunately caught in the same gridlock, but for the others, those who didn’t assess the situation as untenable and turn around, there was more than an itty-bitty feeling of Schadenfreude. (Did you know that the Germans have no word for Schadenfreude…?) Back in Garmisch we opted to walk the 2km home, hoping to swing through the old part of the town on our way. Somehow we managed to miss it, but by that time we were too hot and bothered to care. It’s not as if we really couldn’t live without seeing more old sh*t for a few days.
The walk home brought us out at the bar/restaurant at the Wank Gondola base station and the inevitable, refreshing and rehydrating beers were consumed. As we sat, sipping our cooling amber brews, surveying the car park and all its comings and goings, we witnessed a man with a food wagon pull up and set up his pitch. He was selling deli items of cured meat and cheese, his main product being speck (a type of cured,lightly smoked ham). Apparently the ‘best speck in the world’. Nick was lured to view his wares as if guided by an invisible and irrestistable force. There was almost no overlap of our German or Herr Speck’s English repertoire of words so with much sign language, mostly pointing if we are to be honest, we set about buying a hunk of speck. The bit we almost bought, the ‘best speck in the world’ stuff, was going to cost us….wait for it…..€200! For 300g! We hastily decided that the average stuff was still going to be quite marvellous enough and that we didn’t need quite as much so ended up spending a more ‘sensible’ €40 on 150g. Still quite a wedge. Pork products still continue to be the guiding light of our travels.
The weather forecast for the next two days was awful and a heap of rain was due. It seemed a waste to spend these days somewhere where bad weather would make mountain views invisible and stop us getting out and about. Also it seemed crazy to pay the higher prices of the more touristy area camp sites whilst twiddling our thumbs inside. We opted to sit out the storm in a very basic Stellplatz in a spa town called Bad Aibling. It was a perfect pit stop and we got some admin done – which is code for ‘I did a blog post’.
From here we headed about as far south-east as one can go in Germany without finding oneself in Austria, to the town of Berchtesgaden. This is a region of spectacular natural beauty and is home to The Berchtesgaden National Park. The town is nestled in a deep, narrow valley, alongside the glacial coloured waters of the Berchtesgaden stream and is surrounded by mountains: the Untersberg in the North, Obersalzberg in the east and further south by the Watzmann. The Obersalzberg gained notoriety in the years of the Third Reich when it became their second most important centre of power after the Reichstag in Berlin. Here in 1937/8 they built a retreat, close to the summit of the 1800m high Kehlstein, known as Kehlstainhaus, otherwise known as Eagles Nest. Here the senior Nazis, and less so Hitler himself, spent time in the summers plotting their strategies, socialising, relaxing, entertaining and impressing guests. There were many properties and buildings on the mountain that were built or compulsarily purchased to create an eclave for the Nazi entourage. Most were destroyed by the Allies after the war.
The trip up to Eagles Nest is another ‘must-do’ and many do. The ‘tourist machine’ has it first staging post about 1/3 up the mountain, from where a fleet of electric buses take people from the vast car parks, up the steep and winding road up to the base of the Kehlsteinhaus. This feat of engineering was completed in a mere 13 months. The road is also very narrow, so four or five buses will go up together, disgorge, reload and then come down in convoy too. Here the Nazis’ famous ‘gold elevator’ (actually with brass lining to the walls, so not golden really) transports people up the lift shaft through 124m of bedrock, directly to the building. It is just about the only ostentatious Nazi era part of the complex that remains, aside from the house itself. The buses are expensive, but entry to the lift and building are free. We obviously did things a bit differently. Firstly we made a ham and cheese sandwich picnic with the usual accompaniments, then we got a bus from our camp, about 5km out of town, to the bus station in town. From here we could catch the scheduled bus that went another 5km up to the staging post area. We apparently weren’t the only ones that had had the same idea and by the time the bus arrived there were about 150 people waiting. A polite scrum to board ensued and we were amongst the lucky sardines that got packed on for the trip. The next bus wasn’t for an hour, so lordy knows what the other unlucky 75 people decided to do. It seemed another rare failure of effective crowd management by the otherwise efficient town management. From the staging post we had decided not to get the bus to the top, but to walk up. The path was well surfaced but relentlessly steep. It took us two solid hours of upwards yomping to get to the top which was a change from relentless downhill trajectories of previous hikes. There were a few other mad people walking, and a few really mad people opting to cycle up (although admittedly all but one on electric bikes). At the top we waited in line for our elevator ride, because, well, it’s a thing to do, and were soon delivered to the Eagles nest.
Up here all echoes of the Nazi past of the building and the summit have been expunged. It is now merely a place from which to admire the view and a place of refreshment. The restaurant was doing a roaring trade, the cluster of blue umbrellas shading diners from the ongoing, unrelenting summer. It was further 200m hike up the hill to the summit and we dodged the masses to find a plinth from which to savour the view and our picnic. It was quite a spot, and it is easy to see why Hitler and his cronies chose it. For those that are interested, the Nazi history of the area is detailed in a museum down at the staging area in a building removed from the main fray, deliberately putting distance between the regime and this beautiful place. Three buses took us home. We are getting quite expert in the mysteries of public transport.
From here, one has little choice but to go to Austria, and that’s exactly where we were headed. Germany had suprised and delighted us. It is all the expected things: tidy, organised, sensible and logical. Most things – except for the trains apparently – are reliable and dependable. The food isn’t fancy, but it is hearty and tasty and consistant, if not a bit pork heavy and plant light. (“What’s the problem with that?!” exclaims Nick. ) The language is decipherable, pronounceable and our Germanglish has come along in leaps and bounds! The weather has been amazing, the scenery lovely, the old towns beautiful, the lakes warm, the cycle paths ubiquitous, and they certainly know how to serve up a delicious cold beer to a thirsty tourist in a scenic spot. The people have been happy, helpful, warm and welcoming and we have come to realise that many very nice Germans have natural ‘resting grumpy faces’ and are quite reserved when out and about. This was after several weeks of us trotting about, calling out cheerful’Guten Morgan!’ to all and sundry that we passed and getting vexed by the lack of any greeting/smiles/eye contact in response. Now we just do it for sport.
The things that suprised us most about Germany were:
- There is a lot of smoking here. It was quite obvious compared to all the other countries that we have spent time in. A lot of chuffing by old and young alike. There are also tobacco vending machines on the streets, thereby offering no barriers to young people purchasing cigarrettes. Seems weird when most other countries are really making an effort to protect their youth from the habit.
- There are still a suprising number of places that don’t accept card payments. Cash is still really important here. Compare and contrast the UK when it is all about the plastic fantanstic and unexpectedly offering cash can lead to a expression of panic across the face of a cashier.
- Not everyone is thundering around at 160 kph on the autobahns. Except us of course. Davide is a Grand Tourer in disguise.
- There is an infinite number of varieties of sausage.
- It is fabulous country and one that we hope to return to, especially as we have made some good friends here. You know who you are!!