Figs From Thistles: Bayern and the Partnachklamm

Not to insult the beauty that makes up the Rheinland with her vineyards and river banks, but it is my opinion that Bayern is Germany's most stunning region and this discounts Muenchen and its Bacchic Oktoberfest.

It's easy to imagine a witch luring the likes of Hansel and Gretel into her candy house deep in the woods when in Bayern (Bavaria) with its heavily wooded forests and meandering mountain paths. Bayern is where one finds men sauntering through town wearing feathered, felt hats, woolen socks and earthy-colored lederhosen.

J and I always marvel at the intricate woodwork details that adorn many houses and buildings here. This lodge with its Alpine views took our breaths away.

While in Bayern, we also traveled to Ettal, which is home to a Benedictine monastery begun in the fourteenth century. Ettal is located near to a road that at one time served as a pass through the Alps between the German city of Augsburg and Italy. Today, the still functional monastery also houses a private academy/boarding school with just over 400 pupils. The monks also continue to brew a dark beer using Alpine fed water sources whose recipe has remained unchanged for over 600 years.

Garmisch, located close to Germany's highest point, Zugspitze, is also in close proximity to numerous hiking trails which are frequented by Alpine hikers and tourists. After visiting an antique show, J and I drove to the one time Olympic ski jump and hiked with the kiddos along and through the Partnachklamm, a gorge cut by the Partnach River.

The trail's head began near to a goat farm. The kiddos were taken with these goats who all wore tinkling bells about their necks.

Home along the trail leading to the gorge. If you click on the picture below, you'll see that the frames of the windows are adorned with pastoral paintings, a common practice in this region.

These leaves didn't last long as the following week saw hard rain and strong gusts that scattered them along the path leaving the trees bare and bleak.

In order to pass through the gorge, we paid a nominal charge and continued. The river was jade colored, and the rocks that lined the slick, narrow walkways were seeping and dripped drops of frigid Alpine run-off water onto our heads and backs. The path leading through the gorge was no more than 2 1/2 feet wide at most and was, at times, separated from the cliff dropping perilously off into the river below by a thin wire strung between concrete posts. It was possible to slip between the gaps and plunge below; in fact, the trail's head was marked with a crucifix and memorials to those who'd perished in the gorge by fantastical means like being struck by lightening or swept away by falling debris! Traffic traveled both ways along the path, and it was often necessary to pause and turn sideways to allow others to pass. When necessary, rock had been blasted to create tunnels through which the path could continue to follow along the river's course. The kiddos were frightened several times as those portions of the path were unlit.

Run-off water emptying into the river below. Despite the necessity of walking cautiously, I found myself stopping often to lean precariously over the rails to garner a better view of the gorge. The air was cold, crisp and invigorating. The sounds made by the rushing water gushing forth as it traveled over rock formations was soothing.