Day 26 - to Bertchtesgaden

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Day 26
Saturday July 27
Waking with a smile on your face is always a most welcome occurrence. I found one plastered on mine this morning. By the time I decided to emerge from my cot, all of my fellow roommates were congregating around the cheese and hard-boiled eggs in the adjoining cafeteria. Laying back and staring into the plywood ceiling above me, instead of getting up I just recalled over and over again the image of a young lady disappearing into the darkness. It was a pleasant thought to wake to. When I finally decided to join the others I was greeted with a cacophony of inquisitive looks and was instantly prodded for juicy details of my successful adventure with a certain local female. It seems that after leaving the disco pub last night, James scaled the cliff, returned to the hostel, and whilst fresh hot coco was being served, proceeded to brag to all about my lucrative exploits. I appreciate his appreciation for my evening's luck and adventure. In response to the collective inquiries, I just returned a sly smile, a few short words of the friendliness of the locals and left them all guessing. The details were for me. Well, they were for pad of scribbles too.

The image of a figure into the darkness was the last I saw of Marion. It will probably be the last I ever see of her. It is quite unfortunate. She was quite an event and my journal would not be complete without her. A trip to Europe can never be complete without at least one wild, romping adventure with a local pub-bunny. This morning I was booted from the hostel for overstaying my welcome (they were fully booked for the next night’s accommodation). Now, I am sitting back in a lawn chair, pen at hand, warm air cascading over me, a cool drink in my hands and am watching the sun set on the mountain range that surrounds the town of Bertchtesgaden. I have traded one the passage of one beautiful facade for another. Tough life…tough life indeed.

Today was a moving day. James and I left Salzburg in late morning and proceeded by train through a series of valleys in the Bavarian Alps to a quaint German town called Berchtesgaden. Rather than relying on the bible for my inspiration and guidance, I relied upon James to recommend the next stop on my tour. There were some benefits from hanging out with a Germanophile. (is that a word?) While discussing our plans, James told me about a city steeped in history and nestled in the midst of a fabulous mountain range. I agreed…Berchtesgaden would be a perfect place to stop. Don’t believe me? How does “Hitler’s mountain retreat” sound? It was the place where the most diabolically insane man to have ever walked this earth went on vacation. Any place that can serve as a tool to wipe one’s conscience clean of guilt residue after attempting to eradicate the world of Jewry, Romas, gays etc must be something special. Ironically, my thoughts were too precise. Hilter’s remote mountaintop oasis turned out to be one of the most serene, beautiful and inspirational places I have ever seen. Irony is cruel.

To maintain our vagabond ways, we arrived in town sans reservations and started a search for a bed for the night. Turning to the local tourist office, after chit-chatting with the pretty young Nazi sprite behind the counter we were directed to a nearby bed and breakfast. Apparently it was located just up the hill….and what a hill it was. The b&b was owned by an elderly couple who let one of their rooms out for passing tourists. Once again we hit the jackpot for accommodations.

While the room was rather nondescript, the view was incomparable. As noted, the house was located up the side of a mountain. It took us almost 20 minutes of climbing to scale the curving road and reach the house. From the front yard we were able to survey the entire town. Beyond the town, lay a series of mountain ranges that ran along the entire span of our view. The towering alps provided us with a stunning panoramic view. It was incredible. Inspirational. Instead is just wandering around the town aimlessly, James grabbed a book, I pulled out my journal and we just sat back in a couple lawn chairs and enjoyed the perfectly unexpected treat. For almost two hours, I just sat back and watched and waited for the sun to slowly approach the edge of the mountain tops. My camera was able to capture the exact moments when the two did meet.

As the day ended, I still realized that I would rather be in Salzburg. James was a nice guy. However, there was still a young lady scanning the crowd in a local bar looking for her scruffy Canuck to enter. On the other hand, the tour does go on. I did get a chance to spend two to three relaxing hours watching the sun slowly go down over the most picturesque mountain range I have ever seen. Should have??? Could have?? It doesn’t matter now. I still had the captured thought of this young vixen slowly crossing an ancient bridge, the moonlight shimmering off the cobblestone road, and having her walk up the road, turn on last time to wave goodbye and then disappear down an adjoining street. The last few steps are still etched in my mind. Good night.

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