Good day to you, dear readers! I hope the weather where you are is better than it is here - pelting rain with a spot of thunder and lightning at frequent intervals. (Although I am actually very much enjoying it as only a warm, safe person who doesn't have to leave the comfort of a roof over their heads again that day can.) Anyway, this weekend's trip to the Saxon Switzerland with the delightful Sarah was one of the best I've spent in Germany. Let me tell you all about it!!
Pirna
Our first stop was Pirna, a small town just outside Dresden that's very close to the Saxon Switzerland. Let me state now that I don't know whether it's the Saxon Switzerland or just Saxon Switzerland. The German is no help, and on top of that is much harder to say: Sächsische Schweiz [zekzisher shv-eye-tz].
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| Pirna main square |
Pirna was tiny and adorable and sunny and full of conveniently located cafes selling ice cream. After a stop to revive ourselves with iced coffee/iced chocolate respectively, we followed a path to a so-called viewing point at the top of a steep hill with lots of steps, the first of many that weekend. The somewhat disappointing (and closed) church at the top was possibly not even the one we were aiming for, but the lovely view made up for it - again, the first of many.
On our way back through the town we became aware of the banging of faraway drums that, as it turned out, heralded the arrival of a surprise medieval re-enactment in the town square. Having skim-read a sign at the top of the hill about the town's history, we deduced it was something to do with the town having been invaded by the Swedes at some point. Thanks to Wikipedia, I can inform you that it was in fact in 1639, when they apparently had already invented digital cameras and Sprite.
Not ones to pass up a good old-fashioned show (pun intended), we stayed to enjoy some of the enthusiastic shouting and milling about and the half-hearted stabbing and singing of folk songs before beginning our trek to the hostel.
The hostel itself was located in an incredibly rural-feeling part of town, possibly because it actually was rural - Pirna is not large. It was beautifully peaceful, which effect was added to by the lack of fellow hostel-goers; apart from a big group of mountain rescue people seemingly on a training weekend and one or two small families, it was just us. The owners were very friendly and also astonished that we were not German; judging from their reactions, we were very possibly the first Englanders to set foot in it. I can't remember if Englander is an actual word, but it is in German and I'm sure you can work out what I mean.
Stadt Wehlen/Rathen/Königstein
On Saturday morning we got the train the short distance to Stadt Wehlen, our first stop in the string of villages along the river Elbe.
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| Confession: I stole this picture from Sarah's Facebook uploads |
Stadt Wehlen, like all three villages we saw, was tiny and adorable with beautiful views down to the river and up the other sides to the mountains and rocks of Saxon Switzerland. There's something about non-flat land with a body of water by it that is more picturesque than any other combination, whether it's a mountain with a lake, a hill with a stream, or just a mound by the sea. All unbeatable.
We took the ferry across the river and began the walk up the other side, heading towards Rathen. Having been promised hoards of people all streaming towards the Bastei Brücke - the famous bridge - we were pleased to find that there was hardly anyone else accompanying us on the first leg of our walk, which was through peaceful woods with beautiful dappled sunlight coming through the leaves.
Blisters
There were some issues with footwear turning against the feet occupying it and trying to wear it down, presumably to the bone if left unchecked. Fortunately we were well-prepared with plasters and rest-breaks, and more impressively, there was absolutely no whining at all! Not even from me! It was just walk, walk, walk, calmly mention that you were in too much pain to continue walking, stop and layer on another plaster, have a drink, continue calmly walking. Is this what it's like to be an adult? Or at least a child who's grown out of the screaming tantrums phase?
The Bastei Itself
We made it to the part with the famous rock formations that we'd both heard about and seen pictures of, so began keeping an eye out for the bridge. It must be here soon!, we said. Let's wait until we get to the bridge before having lunch!, we decided. Ew we're not going to pay to go in the fenced off bit, how dare they! Money-grubbing bastards! Making us pay for something we've already seen! As if!, we laughed, sitting down to eat our lunch, having failed to find the bridge. There were signs to the Bastei this way...but oh no, there's one pointing the way we've just come from that also says Bastei...what's happening? We'll have to go back, we concluded.
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| Far-off view of the bridge. Was that as close as we were going to get??? Spoiler: no. |
We unwillingly shelled out for the fenced off bit, which instantly paid off when we were firstly given three free postcards, and secondly we looked back to where we had just walked and it became clear that the path with the stone wall with battlement-shapes either side was in fact the bridge, and we had stopped on it for a good five minutes to take pictures and marvel at the sheer drop below.
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| Confession 2: I also stole this picture from Sarah's Facebook |
After spending a bit more time marvelling at our own lack of perception and the disappointing size of the bridge - it looked so much bigger in pictures! - we continued round the fenced off bit. This was quite an uncomfortable experience, as the metal walkways between the piles of rock creaked and threatened to disintegrate whenever any weight was placed on them.
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| At least it was a nice setting though!? |
A hundred times scarier than this was watching the numerous climbers in the distance clambering between and up to the very top of the enormous rock formations. Just. Why would you do that. So very much the opposite of fun.
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| Um get down from there?!?!??!?!??! |
After having seen enough climbers and piles of rocks to last at least a few weeks, if not a lifetime, we headed back down the other side of the rock-y bit and towards Rathen, another pretty village, where we had a restorative beer/ice cream sundae respectively.
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| Such a good choice!! |
We then headed towards Königstein, yet another pretty village which also had a Festung, which we eventually decided translates best as 'fortress'.
The long trek up to this Festung was arduous and not helped by the 'hilarious' encouragement shouted to us from a smug German man on his way back down the hill: 'you're nearly there! Only another thousand steps to go! Hahahhaha!!!' GOD. Anyway, we made it eventually and were rewarded: there was another beautiful view from the top, and and museum-y bit where those with the concentration and inclination could read about its history. One of these rooms was occupied by a guide with one of the most annoying accents I have heard this year who was enthusiastically holding forth about the creation and production of the fortress's well. The problem I've found with the Saxon dialect is that once you notice it, it is very easy just to marvel at its capacity to irritate and forget to listen to the actual content. It's perhaps an issue that I should address. It's not you, Saxony, it really is me.
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| Mostly successful panorama from the top... |
Triumphant return
We made it back to Pirna in one piece after a long day - Sarah's pedometer thing on her phone told us we had walked 11.5 miles which is about 28,000 steps. We stopped for a Döner on our way back to the hostel, not being able to face another evening meal at the hostel. The night before we had been served a school-dinners-like concoction of pasta with sauce that I'm sure was just tomato soup and a sprinkling of bacon pieces. The packed lunch, on the other hand, was great - a Milky Way AND a sausage roll thing AND a nougat-wafer-thing AND as many rolls from breakfast as we wanted, among other things. It's so unusual to be allowed to take rolls from the breakfast in hostels; normally they have to be sneaked out under the eye of the watchful security employed just to limit the hostel-bread-smuggling trade.
All in all, another brilliant weekend, and yet again, one suggested by someone else. I have been so lucky this year in that my friends and acquaintances are generally a lot more proactive than I am. So thank you again, Sarah!
On our way back through the town we became aware of the banging of faraway drums that, as it turned out, heralded the arrival of a surprise medieval re-enactment in the town square. Having skim-read a sign at the top of the hill about the town's history, we deduced it was something to do with the town having been invaded by the Swedes at some point. Thanks to Wikipedia, I can inform you that it was in fact in 1639, when they apparently had already invented digital cameras and Sprite.
Not ones to pass up a good old-fashioned show (pun intended), we stayed to enjoy some of the enthusiastic shouting and milling about and the half-hearted stabbing and singing of folk songs before beginning our trek to the hostel.
We took the ferry across the river and began the walk up the other side, heading towards Rathen. Having been promised hoards of people all streaming towards the Bastei Brücke - the famous bridge - we were pleased to find that there was hardly anyone else accompanying us on the first leg of our walk, which was through peaceful woods with beautiful dappled sunlight coming through the leaves.
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