Bavaria & Austria

May 8

From Schwaigern to Bavaria's Sacred Mountain

As we prepared for our departure from Schwaigern, Doris had shepherded Ann through morning errands—the bank, post office, butcher, and baker—a ritual introduction to German daily life that felt like a cultural initiation. By 10:00 a.m., we were threading our van through Stuttgart's industrial arteries, then onward through Ulm's cathedral shadows toward Augsburg, ancient Roman Augsta Vindelicorum.

The transformation from urban sprawl to Alpine foothills occurred gradually, then suddenly. Near Fürstenfeldbruck, we paused for lunch—pizza and beer at a local gasthaus where the proprietor's weathered hands spoke of generations tending to travelers. John's aviation enthusiasm sparked at the nearby NATO airbase, where F-4 Phantoms, Mirage IIIs, and Panavia Tornados scripted contrails against Bavaria's endless sky. These modern warriors seemed oddly anachronistic in a landscape still dominated by church spires and medieval silhouettes.

But it was Andechs Monastery that truly captured our hearts. Perched on its Heiliger Berg—Holy Mountain—above the Ammersee, this Benedictine sanctuary has welcomed pilgrims since 955 AD. The church's baroque interior overwhelmed Ann with its ornate spirituality, golden cherubs, and intricate frescoes, creating an atmosphere of divine theater. Yet it was the beer garden where we discovered Andechs' true soul.

Here, beneath ancient chestnuts, we sampled the monastery's legendary brew—beer crafted by monks for over 560 years. John's liter Maß of Andechser Doppelbock and Ann's more modest half-liter connected us to centuries of pilgrims who'd found both spiritual and physical sustenance on this sacred hill. The late afternoon sun filtered through leaves as we absorbed the profound peace that monastery life cultivates.

Our campsite outside Herrsching provided solitary reflection—just our van, the lapping Ammersee, and the vast Bavarian sky. Evening walks along the lake shore, then into town for our simple dinner of wurst, käse, brot, and bier, established rhythms that would define our journey: movement, discovery, simplicity, connection.

May 9

Into the Realm of the Dream King

Dawn brought crisp air and the sobering reality of cold showers—or rather, no hot water at all. Such minor discomforts seemed insignificant as we drove toward Füssen, the landscape growing ever more dramatic. Rolling hills surrendered to jagged Alpine peaks, and we understood why King Ludwig II chose this magnificent theater for his most famous creation.

Neuschwanstein Castle demanded a pilgrimage. The 45-minute ascent up steep forest paths felt like climbing toward mythology itself. This was no mere castle but the architectural manifestation of a tormented king's medieval fantasies—Ludwig II's refuge from the political realities of 19th-century Bavaria.

The guided tour revealed room after room devoted to Richard Wagner's operas, each chamber a stage set where Ludwig could inhabit the heroic narratives he craved. Every September, concerts in the Singers' Hall continue this tradition of merging music with architectural drama. We lingered afterward at the Marienbrücke, where views of the castle against Alpine peaks reminded us why fairy tales require such dramatic settings.

Lunch at a mountainside restaurant—Ann's spaghetti, John's hähnchen schnitzel—provided respite before our waterfall hike. The Pöllat Falls thundered through rocky gorges, misting the air with Alpine freshness. Later, a cable car to the mountain peak offered perspectives on both human ambition and natural grandeur. Watching hang gliders and parachutists launch themselves into the vast blue, we felt the intoxicating vertigo of unlimited possibility.

Austria welcomed us at the Plansee, where our lakeside campsite provided hot showers and stunning reflections of snow-capped peaks in mirror-still water. The 107 Austrian schillings ($7) seemed almost absurdly reasonable for such beauty. This was travel at its most elemental—movement, discovery, comfort, wonder.

May 10

Between Versailles Dreams and Alpine Reality

Hot showers restored both body and spirit as we departed Plansee under partly cloudy skies. Today would prove that Ludwig II's architectural ambitions extended far beyond Neuschwanstein's Gothic fantasies.

Schloss Linderhof revealed an entirely different facet of the dream king's imagination. Where Neuschwanstein reached toward medieval romance, Linderhof embraced French court elegance. This intimate palace, modeled after Versailles' Petit Trianon, showcased Ludwig's admiration for Louis XIV's absolute monarchy—ironic, perhaps, for a king whose own power was rapidly diminishing.

The palace tour unveiled chamber after chamber of rococo excess, but it was the Venus Grotto that truly captured Ludwig's theatrical soul. This artificial cave, complete with underground lake and rainbow projections, allowed the king to stage Wagner's operas in his private subterranean theater. Rowing across the illuminated waters in a swan-shaped boat, Ludwig could inhabit the very myths that obsessed him.

Lunch in Garmisch-Partenkirchen—schnitzel, beer, and small sundaes—fueled our drive into Austria and onward to Innsbruck. The train station newsstand provided our first newspapers in over a week, connecting us momentarily to a world beyond castles and beer gardens. Yet as we continued toward Lofer, 45 minutes west of Berchtesgaden, that external world seemed increasingly irrelevant.

Our riverside campsite placed us literally within touching distance of the Alps. Twenty-five feet from our van, clear mountain water rushed past while snow-capped peaks dominated every horizon. The bathroom facilities maintained German standards of cleanliness, and the 111 Austrian schillings ($7) felt like highway robbery in reverse.

Evening rain drove us into the van for newspaper reading and postcard writing—John catching up on baseball standings while thunder echoed through Alpine valleys. Such moments of stillness, sheltered within our mobile home while storm and mountain landscape surrounded us, created memories more profound than any palace tour.

May 11

Underground Treasures and Mountain Spirits

Morning revealed the previous night's rain in countless droplets adorning every surface, the Alps emerging from clouds like geological poetry. Our drive to Berchtesgaden unfolded through landscapes that seemed designed to humble human ambition—snow-crowned peaks, flower-covered meadows, rushing rivers that had carved these valleys across millennia.

The Salzbergwerks (Salt Mines) provided unexpected adventure. Donning protective clothing—baggy pants, leather belts, jackets, and caps—we descended into chambers where salt had been extracted for centuries. The underground train journey felt like a passage into the earth's secret interior, while the subterranean salt lake reminded us that Bavaria's wealth once flowed from these hidden depths.

Lunch in Berchtesgaden's town center—John's regional specialty of spätzle with cheese and grilled onions, Ann's German beefsteak—connected us to local culinary traditions. Our van barely cleared the underground parking garage ceiling, a reminder that European infrastructure wasn't designed for American proportions.

The afternoon's visit to Brennerei Seibl schnapps distillery in Waidring, Austria, introduced us to Alpine spirits in their most literal form. After the tour and film presentation, free samples of various schnapps provided education in regional flavor profiles. Purchasing souvenirs felt like supporting artisanal traditions that mass production threatens.

Thunderstorms encouraged early camp set up on a lovely hillside just 4 kilometers outside town. The 20 Deutsche Marks ($10) secured us front-row seats to nature's evening performance—lightning illuminating mountain silhouettes while rain drummed against our van's roof. Sometimes, travel's greatest luxuries are simple shelter and stunning views.

May 12

Mozart's Salzburg: Where Music Meets Marionettes

By 10:00 a.m., we were navigating toward Salzburg, the landscape continuing its Alpine drama. Getting somewhat lost in the city provided unexpected exploration opportunities, and purchasing a proper map felt like claiming temporary citizenship.

Our chosen campsite, just 100 schillings ($7), positioned us perfectly for walking into the Altstadt. But first, a discovery that would define our evening: the famous Salzburg Marionette Theater. The Marriage of Figaro was performing tonight, and at 250 schillings each ($20), tickets represented our trip's biggest splurge. This decision would prove transformative.

Lunch at an Old Town restaurant fueled our afternoon exploration. Mozart's birthplace on Getreidegasse offered intimate glimpses into the composer's early life—the apartment where genius first stirred, artifacts that had witnessed musical history's creation. Walking Salzburg's baroque streets felt like moving through Mozart's own compositions, architecture, and music, achieving perfect harmony.

The Marionette Theater performance exceeded every expectation. For the first two acts, we struggled to follow the plot, but purchasing an intermission program guide revealed the story's complexity. More importantly, we discovered that marionettes could achieve almost human emotional expression. The music—pure Mozart—filled the intimate theater while strings brought wooden characters to vivid life.

Driving back to camp through rain-soaked streets, we carried the evening's magic with us. Sometimes travel's most memorable moments emerge from spontaneous decisions—like choosing theater over typical tourist activities.

May 13

Cultural Treasures and Festival Surprises

Heavy rainstorms suggested abandoning Salzburg exploration for the return journey to Schwaigern. Instead of feeling defeated, this felt like natural rhythm—sometimes travel means knowing when to move on.

Our Munich stop at the Deutsches Museum was perfect for rainy-day exploration. This comprehensive science and technology museum offered hours of discovery, from historic aircraft to hands-on demonstrations that made abstract concepts tangible. The museum restaurant served excellent Wiener Schnitzel for Ann and veal with spätzle for John, fuel for afternoon exploration.

The mining exhibit particularly captivated us—a full-scale reproduction of underground tunnels that seemed to extend infinitely. Walking through these artificial caverns, we understood how Earth's resources had shaped human civilization. The museum shop tempted us with educational toys and books that promised to extend our learning beyond this visit.

But Schwaigern held the day's greatest surprise. Arriving in the middle of the Strassefest (street festival), we immediately located Kurt giving wagon rides to excited children. Finding Tanja and Sabine proved easier than locating their mother and grandmother, but such challenges only enhanced the festival's community atmosphere.

Dinner amid the celebration—Ann's pizza, John's wurst—connected us to local tradition in ways no formal tourist experience could match. The music tent provided evening entertainment, with local musicians performing folk songs that generations had shared. When Doris appeared with house keys and table invitations, we understood that sometimes the best travel experiences are unplanned gifts.

The evening spent with Kurt, Doris, Oma, Eberhart, Tanja, Sabine, and Sieglinde's cousins reminded us that travel's deepest rewards often come through human connection rather than architectural marvels or museum collections.