Learning to Follow Directions
March 4-6, 2016
Contrary to what the name suggests, Saxon Switzerland is actually in Germany. Nestled up against the Czech Republic about two and a half hours by train outside of Berlin, this scenic region combines quaint Bohemian villages with sandstone mountain ranges jutting out of evergreen forests. Close enough to Berlin for an easy weekend trip, we took off on a Friday afternoon for a couple days of hiking on the Malerweg, or "Painter's Trail," to celebrate Mazz's birthday.
“The Elbe Sandstone Mountains Malerweg trail is one of the most picturesque hiking trails in Germany. Where once painters, musicians and literary greats sought inspiration for their timeless works, 112 kilometres of diverse walking in eight daily stages now lead through the region’s fascinating rocky landscape.”
We decided to hike stage 2 of the Malerweg on Saturday and stage 3 on Sunday. Saturday would take us through to the most famous site of the trail, the Bastei, and loop around nicely on Sunday for us to easily catch a return train to Berlin. We arrived in Bad Schandau Friday evening, and found that the train station sits on the opposite side of the Elbe River from the actual town. We walked the 30 minutes into Bad Schandau instead of trying to find a bus, making our way through the quiet streets to our hotel. Early March is still very much the offseason for this town, and it was almost desolate for a Friday night. Our hotel successfully upsold us for an extra €20 on a much nicer and much larger room than the closet we had originally booked, as Mazz is a fancy lady and fancy ladies get what they want on their birthday. After delicious traditional German fare of schnitzels and dunkel beers at one of the few open restaurants in town, we relaxed supremely by drinking wine in a giant bathtub.
We took off back through town for the train station the next morning, grabbing some coffees to go on the way. The start of our hike was in a town called Stadt Wehlen, a few stops up the river on the S Bahn. A small ferry outside the train station took us, along with a bevy of backpack-clad Germans, across the river to the center of town. Though there were plenty of wanderers for a Saturday morning at 10am, nothing in the town appeared to be open for breakfast. After meandering a while we were able to follow our noses down a side street to the only open bakery we could find and got some sweet breakfast bread. Making our way back to the city center, we noticed a sign directing towards the Bastei that led up a hill away from town. Knowing this was our first main destination, we started off in this direction, foolishly ignoring instructions from the official Saxon Switzerland website, which clearly stated that we should first walk along the river until reaching the hiking trail. We walked up a long road winding away from the river, often checking our map to make sure we weren't making a mistake. It was almost noon before we finally admitted we were walking in entirely the wrong direction and made our way back to Stadt Wehlen via a steep ten minute footpath shortcut.
Dejected but still optimistic, we got on the proper path and found our way to the trailhead. Consulting our map, we decided we could save some lost time by taking a more direct, paved route to the Bastei instead of following the suggested hiking path. This also proved to be a big dumb mistake, and probably ended up wasting more time than it saved. The Bastei is a stone bridge built on top of jutting sandstone mountain peaks. The trail takes you up the mountain to the bridge, while the paved path merely takes you past the bottom of it to the next town. Cursing our terrible judgment for the second time before lunch, we doubled back in the town of Rathen and started walking up the mountain from the direction we should have been coming down.
Though thoroughly bummed now, reaching the Bastei immediately washed away the bad vibes. The clear day offered sprawling panoramic views, though getting to the viewpoints required some patience due to the crowds at the top. The bridge itself, which was started in 1797 and finished a hundred years later, is a marvel of human stubbornness and a testament to man's unfaltering willingness to carry heavy shit up mountains.
After a steep descent that had our quads barking, there was a tough decision to make. We'd wasted a lot of daylight and energy walking the wrong way, and if we made another mistake on our way to our destination in Hohnstein we would most likely be walking in the dark. Gutted that we had ruined much of our first day hiking and never actually hit a proper dirt trail in the woods, we resigned ourselves to our fate and asked a local the best way to get to Hohnstein using public transportation, as there was no way to get there from the town we were in without a car. She told us to take the train to Pirna, and catch a bus from there. While buying our tickets at the S Bahn station, the kiosk gave us two options to get to Hohnstein. We could either go though Pirna, as suggested to us by the local, or we could return to Bad Schandau and catch a bus from there. Bad Schandau was €2 cheaper. Can you guess whether or not we screwed up again?
We paid a cabbie outside the Bad Schandau train station €25 to drive us to Hohnstein. In Hohnstein we learned that the town had no market, no pubs, and from what we could tell, the hotel itself might have been the only restaurant in town, and it closed at 8pm that Saturday night. We had more dunkel beers and traditional German fare, and though the house wine was arguably the worst we have tasted so far in Europe, at least they poured you a big, big glass of it. After dinner we thoroughly consulted our maps to ensure we would not mess up so badly the next day.
We woke up the next morning to steady snowfall. After a nice complimentary hotel breakfast we hit the road and almost immediately screwed up again. Following the signs in town toward Brand, our first main destination of the day, we couldn't find the trail we were supposed to take. The signs to Brand led us through the town to different trails that would also eventually take us there, but they were paved and not the route we had planned the night before. Determined to break our cycle of willful incompetence, we doubled back to where we started, this time luckily finding the markers for the Bärengarten trail that we had originally missed.
Finally on a dirt trail, this section of the Malerweg made us feel like we were back home in the Pacific Northwest, walking though lush green Evergreen forests in a light sprinkling of rain and parting mist.
After a few hours we made our way to the Brand viewpoint, or "the Balcony of Saxon Switzerland." The view from the overlook was amazing, giving you a full 180-degree panorama of the towns and sandstone steppes. We stopped in the café there for espressos and Königsteiner, a delicious snack of local sausages, bread, and mustard.
After reaching the viewpoint perched high above Saxony, the next step was to get down from it. To do so, we had to walk down so many steps. 755 of them, to be exact (we counted), snaking down the side of the mountain. Once you reach the bottom and walk along the road for a short stretch, you then have to walk right back up another 581 steps to get to the next small village. From there the trail leads through muddy fields and along pleasant riverbeds until you reach Kohlmühle, a small town that seemed barely inhabited. At the center of the town lies a giant decrepit stone factory that is obviously haunted. Kirb very much wanted to sneak inside and bask in the ruin porn but Mazz wasn't having it. We cut the last leg of stage 3 short to walk 3.5k back to Bad Schandau so we could catch our return train home. After a well-earned final round of dunkel beers and bratwurst in a stone Bierstube that claimed to have been around since the late 1500s, we walked back across the river one last time and time hopped on the night train back to Berlin.
We learned some important lessons on this trip – namely to follow directions and advice exactly as they are given while traveling in small German towns or life will assuredly become harder than it needs to be. Saxon Switzerland is gorgeous and sprawling, and after a hit and miss first attempt we are now better equipped to hike it again. We will definitely be back to see more of the Malerweg trail.