Up the Brocken

After huffily accusing Mr Fluffy of taking the wrong path I had to eventually concede that I was wrong and we had, indeed, entered the walkway to the Brocken mountain. Having been given the choice of either an easy walk beside the track for the railway or a steep rocky ascent, guess which one Graham chose? Harumph!

heading off

We drove to Shierke this morning and he managed to persuade me to join him in the 2 hour (ish) hike up the mysterious and witchy mountain.

spooky forest

The initial confusion on the trek was due to a distinct lack of proper signage but after some help from the tourist information centre we trudged up the Brocken through ancient forests, hearing the occasional distant whistle from the steam trains reminding us of that easier alternative route. As we neared the top, just 1 km from the summit, there was a lovely clearing and the sight of a flat-ish road to continue our upward journey. At the exact moment we entered the clearing the clouds burst forth and totally peed it down. ‘Get the waterproofs out of the rucksack - quickly’!

is that a witch I see flying there?

Too late – it hit us before we could get the jackets out or run to the trees for cover – the sunny morning instantly turned into a freezing winter scene. Drenched and cold we carried on to the popular summit to fight with 100s of other tourists for shelter.

stone on the Brocken

We eventually managed to get a bowl of hot goulash and a rather dubious bratwurst based noodle dish in an extremely busy café full of soggy steamy people. This managed to warm the cockles as we took amusing witchy based photos and watched dense fog encircle the famous viewpoint.

inappropriate outfit to climb a mountain 

We decided to take the narrow gauge railway back to Shierke and as the train left the station the sun started to shine again. Typical! It’s a bit of a train aficionado’s delight with people coming from all over the world to ride on them.

A bit bedraggled

Mr F loved the powerful steam engines, the noise, the smell, the vibration, everything about them – it’s a boy thing. I just liked not having to walk. 

Wernigerode Antics

amusing pottery pussy from the schloss

The town of Wernigerode is overshadowed by a gigantic schloss which we decided to visit yesterday. It's an imposing castle with a close association with Kaiser Wilhelm. The many portraits of him on the walls were a far cry from our depiction of him as a voodoo style pin cushion in the Museum of Witchcraft. Mr Fluffy was thrilled (not) to arrive just as the Hexenuhr was happening - a gigantic witch popped out of a cuckoo style clock to cackle the midday hour. I think he is getting all witched out.

The Hexenuhr

We walked through the forest around the schloss and came across a small zoo which we could freely walk around. The cutest were the little tiny wild boar children who came out as a blur on my camera as they were whizzing around the yard merrily. Second cutest were the deer and racoons. We noticed at the end that this was next to a schusenhaus (hunting house) so we are hoping they were not being bred for a spot of schusen (although we did eat 'meat of a stag' for dinner last night at Ins kleine Paradis).

what's up dick?

loving the foot draped over the edge

Off to The Brocken today.

Witches, Witches and More Witches

‘Zis is MY Karte!!’ The high pitched words of the panic stricken tourist information attendant screeched through the visitor’s centre as I circled the points of interest he’d mentioned on a map (which I presumed was a freebie) with a pen that was conveniently located within my reach. ‘Don’t panic I will buy the karte.’ Five euros later I noticed the information was all conveniently in German (which I don’t speak) but he seemed so distressed I felt the need to allay his stress before he had a heart attack.

a hint of witchy overload

Our night in Quedlinburg was filled with half timbered medieval houses, schlosses, and shops selling infinite varieties of witch puppets. Some of the houses are carved with protection symbols like pentacles and six pointed stars, daisy wheels and other familiar symbols. We visited St Wipiti’s church this morning, more for its amusing name than anything else, and discovered a real treasure despite the fact the 10^th century church had been restored in the 1950s. The standing stones in the grounds suggested a much more ancient history.

St Wipiti

We are in the Harz mountains, a place famed for witchy goings on, Faust, and Walpugisnacht celebrations. A drive up to Hexentanzplatz outside Thale proved amusing as we discovered an almost witch-theme park location with shops selling endless witch puppets and a Hexenmuseum which was a little bit more like a cross dressing enthusiast’s plaything. I will let the photos speak for themselves. We wonder if some German visitors are reluctant to enter the Boscastle Museum of Witchcraft as they may have been here and were somewhat put off.

crushed velvet clad wiccan priestess in medieval wisewoman's tableau

a divination scene

The mountains themselves are rather lovely and very atmospheric despite the tacky commercial surroundings.

Our stop tonight is Wernigerode which is a very attractive medieval town with a very large schoss (castle) and a very small house (the only two things the tourist office said was of interest.

a novel use for a washing line

We may get the steam train up to the Brocken tomorrow.

Prozzies and Pagan Murderers

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Vegemite on a German breakfast table.

Having met our Aussie at the Leek festival we gladly took him up on his offer to visit so last night we stayed on Ian and Dorothea’s drive way and had a very pleasant meal with them in Dagebull on the Waddensee. In true Aussie fashion we later enjoyed a few glasses of wine on their patio where we were joined by their neighbours, Christian and Karen. Flocks of geese flew overhead as we exchanged stories of travel and adventure.

Mr Fluffy resting by the Waddensee

This morning we shared a yummy German breakfast of fresh bread, cheese, meats and boiled eggs and Kerriann was delighted to find Vegemite (Australia’s poor attempt to copy Marmite) on the table. Thanks Ian and Dorothea, we really appreciate your hospitality.

Outskirts of Dagebull by Waddensee

little train carrying locals and guests

Today we slowly meandered South through Northern Germany and have stopped at a stellplatz (free parking place for motorhomes) next to a boat museum in Wishhafn. As we queued to get on the ferry we heard on Radio 4 that a ferry in Bangladesh had sunk – Kerriann did not enjoy the trip as we were heavily loaded and listed a little to the right so she was very happy to reach the other side.

stopover in Ttzehoe - witches get everywhere

The weather is a little cooler today but this evening it has turned rather muggy and uncomfortable. Even Kerriann (an Australian) is finding the warm/hot nights rather uncomfortable.

Wischhafn

We are planning to head towards the witchy Harz mountains then on to the Mosel Valley for a bit of wine tasting. Hoorah!

A Rave in Leek??

The beaches along the south west coast of Denmark were absolutely jammed with people so we made the decision to head back to Germany. Mr Fluffy noticed a small green dot on the Bord Atlas marking a stellplatz in Leck so we put in the coordinates and pootled off.

Leek started well and continued to get better. The sat nav tried to get us to go down a slim pedestrian route to the stell[platz which Graham thought would be fine. (Why do men always think they can get large objects into small gaps?) I, on the other hand, was more cautious and jumped out to check out the situation. Two lovely German people on bikes immediately offered to help and cheerily pointed us in the right direction, a parking place right behind the area where a Schlager-nacht (popular music festival) was happening.

Graham hoped it was an oompah/folk music event while I was more of the opinion it would be a rave, going by the signs which said rucksacks would be checked for alcohol etc (at least that’s what I think they said). On arrival at 1900 we discovered we were both wrong and an evening of seventies music, deejayed by a chap in a dodgy wig and even dodgier seethrough white linen trousers, lay ahead. Amusingly, as the deejay excitedly kicked the evening off, he wandered towards the audience with his radio mike. The first person he spoke to was Mr Fluffy, chatting on loudly in German with Graham looking ever more confused until Mr Dodgy Wig thrust the mike at Graham’s mouth and he finally got the chance to announce to the ever-growing crowd: ‘I’m English and can’t understand anything you have been saying’.

Mr DW

Luckily Mr DW could speak English and merrily continued talking to an ever-reddening Graham, asking questions and urging the amused crowd to cheer loudly.

I popped off to the bar and on my return found a chap sitting with Graham, talking animatedly and smiling broadly. Ian turned out to be an Australian living in the area with his German wife Dorothea and they both joined us for the evening along with their neighbour Christian. We’re off to their house this afternoon for a visit.

Ian, Dorothea and Christian

A great night was had by all until I tried to go to the loo later in the evening and was told I was ‘verboten’ with an arm outstretched before me and a stream of German presumably telling the line of women that I was not welcome. Asking if someone could translate I learned that I had not put a coin in the metal tin marked ‘danke’ on my previous visit so was not allowed in again. I found it most amusing as I was unaware of the need to pat for a pee, as it were, and she looked extremely funny blocking my way in. I shall look out for ‘danke’ tins in the future.

Tollund Man and Nightwatchmen

Several years ago Graham read a book about the Iron Age man, around 40 years old, who was found in a peat bog near Silkeborg in Denmark. The man is so well preserved you can see the stubble on his chin. With Silkeborg only a few miles away we had to go and see him in person. 

The face of Tollund Man

'The old man is in the room to the left'. With an obvious affection for Tollund Man and a smile letting us know that the only reason most people come to this small museum is to see him, an elderly guide pointed us in the right direction. He has a room of his own and seats around the edge so visitors can sit and be with him for a while. He looks strangely comfortable, as though he's sleeping peacefully with a perfectly intact plaited rope around his neck and a leather belt around his waist. 

Lying in his case

It feels strange that this person is an exhibit and we wondered what he would think if he knew that 3000 years into the future his body would bring people from all over the world to see it. But visit him we did and the visitors there seemed to give him a sort of reverence, quietly walking around, some taking photos, some sitting with him presumably musing on his life and death. The thinking is that he was sacrificed to the gods and the ligature around his neck is possibly the one that he was hanged or strangled with.

A young girl, around 20 years old, was found a few metres away from Tollund man and is also thought to have been sacrificed. Elling Girl is not as well preserved, we could mainly see her hair and she was wrapped in the original fabrics she was buried in. 

After a night by a lake we have returned to Ringkobing on the east coast. It is such a lovely town and we're parked by the water here. Last night we did the nightwatchman's tour of the city. It was ok and the guides were very friendly, swapping expertly between Danish, English and German. It got a little drab when they got to a corner of the town and locals emerged from their houses with bottles of liquorice vodka and proceeded to give themselves and the guides a drink while all us tourists stood around watching them. Not very thrilling but we enjoyed their singing and the walk through the old streets.

Our lovely multilingual nightwatchman