The Art of Wandern: Following the Crowd

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Adventure, Black Forest, Explore, Fear, Freiburg, Freiburger Muenster, Friends, Germany, Hiking, Lost, Ruins, Schlossberg, Schlossbergturm, The Art of Wandern, Travel Companions, Wandern

My discovery of a mist-shrouded fort was so exciting that I had to go back–and possibly share it with others.  I was especially interested in seeing the location again with a little less mist concealing everything.   At the PH where I was studying, a group of international students wanted to go on a hike, but didn’t have much direction about what to do.  I eagerly suggested the “castle ruins” that I had found, and in my attempt to convince them, I over-emphasized how cool the ruins were.  Our hike took longer than I expected, mainly because we paused often for pictures and for people to catch their breath.

Photo-op!

But finally, after a few uncertain intersections, we came out on the bench-bordered path I’d seen before.  We climbed a few stairs and took pictures, but this “castle” was hardly the capstone to the hike that I’d promised.  Certainly, there were rock walls that rose nearly nine feet, but most of the structure was enveloped by mounds of grass.  “It’s okay,” one of the other students said to her friend, “We’ll find a real castle to explore sometime soon.”

Dang it.

Embarrassed, I followed everyone else’s lead.  Some of the group noticed other hikers walking the opposite direction, so we decided to find out what was so popular.

Lovely place to stroll

We came across an observation tower.  I remembered seeing it from below in the city of Freiburg.  About fifty people were here, climbing up to the very top to take pictures, climbing down again, resting on small boulders. We decided to climb the tower, though one of our party had to stop halfway there because of vertigo.  When we made it to the top, the tower’s swaying was far too noticeable.  I couldn’t decide if the movement came from the wind or the pedestrian traffic, and I had trouble being near the outside railing at first.

I don’t have a strict phobia of heights, but the fear of falling has always been a big problem for me.  Because of that fear, I’ve never climbed a tree, attempted a cartwheel, or ice-skated.  It’s very hard for me to jump into a pool or to climb more than three ladder rungs off the ground. Climbing stairs is usually much easier for me, however, because they’re wider and solid.  These stairs, unfortunately, were a metal mesh, which meant that I could see the ground as we went up.  But I didn’t feel scared until we were at the top, where the wind might blow you over.  Even then, we could climb just a little higher on a smaller platform that was big enough for two people.  I decided to not let my fear prevent me from experiencing this tower, and I paused briefly to get a picture at the very top.

That’s the cathedral spire in the background.

 

Later on in the hike, we came across another tower, this one mainly ignored and inaccessible.  Our group decided the actual warning sign in front of the dilapidated bridge was overreacting and crossed it anyway.  I hung back until I was the last one.  I hated the idea of falling, but the bridge had supported the others, so I went for it. On the other side, we found carvings and graffiti.  Take a look for yourself! We also found a small cave that looked like it provided a little shelter for someone who was homeless.

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The Art of Wandern: In the Footsteps of Strangers

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Black Forest, Black Forest Hostel, Found, Freiburg, Germany, Hiking, Morning People, The Art of Wandern, Wandern

My experience helped me realize that sometimes experimentation can go wrong.  Yes, of course it is good to try new ideas, but it is also important to look at what people have done before you.  Sometimes, the well-worn path really is the better option.

I already knew that, of course.  I was homeschooled until high school, and I interacted a lot with adults as a child.  Because I enjoy being with people, I didn’t mind listening to the stories that elderly folks wanted to tell me, and they were happy to share wisdom with a younger person.  I usually internalized their lessons and think about them even today.  Despite my independent streak, I value the experience of those who have already gone ahead.

A view of Oberau (a section of Freiburg)

But my “failed” climb helped drive all that home in a very concrete way.  Sometimes self-made paths end up being dead-ends.  Sometimes the cost of picking up the pieces afterwards just isn’t worth the thrill of “my way.”  I felt a little stupid.

But as I continued walking along the more defined path, I resolved that my hikes didn’t always have to end with some sort of amazing find or epiphany.  My climb wasn’t a failure: I still learned something, and I still had time to hike a bit more.

I eventually found a plaque.  I took a picture and resolved to look it up later. 

Dr. Hoffmann’s plaque

After nearly two years, I finally did so last week.  At first, Dr. Christian August Hoffmann was not easy to find.  The only Google result that seemed to match was a Christian August Siegfried Hoffmann who lived about a generation prior to my commemorated friend.

But finally, I found an article in the local newspaper about the man, the journalist’s attempt to track him down, and her eventual contact with his descendants in America.  I shortly also found his descendants’ account of the interaction, which verified the journalist’s story.  In the descendants’ detailed description of Dr. Hoffmann, I noticed pictures of two buildings connected to him.  I actually recognized them!  I was astounded.  Even though I had had no idea who he was, I had come across his plaque and walked past his granddaughter’s house.  Because this realization encompassed my present time learning about all of this history, my past time in Germany, and the first half of the 19th century, I was somewhat overwhelmed.  I had partially walked in the footsteps of this stranger and his family who lived two centuries ago.  The story that is Me is so very small, a thread in the larger quilt.  And as humbling as that realization is, it’s also comforting.  It’s nice knowing that others have gone before you, leaving behind their words of wisdom to guide your way.

A shy red squirrel

The Art of Wandern: A Road Less Traveled

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Black Forest, Black Forest Hostel, Explore, Freiburg, Germany, Hiking, Lost, Morning People, Photography, The Art of Wandern, Wandern

If my previous post lead you to believe that success is always at the end of a journey, I must hasten to warn you that it is not.

As you may recall, my fellow Stetson students and I arrived in Freiburg and stayed in a hostel while we waited for our dorm to open for the semester.  Our first night there, I tripped down the stairs and sprained my ankle.  Although I wasn’t seriously injured, I had to be careful the following week how I put pressure on my foot.

With a full night of sleep and morning-person superpowers, I woke up just after dawn on the third day of our stay in Freiburg.  Matt and Sarah were still asleep, and after years of sleep-over experience, I knew they would be for many more hours.  The world outside lifted a finger of chirping birds and beckoned.

New Flowers

Fully bundled, I trudged outside and up a steep flight of steps.  The sudden hints of green were like the first full breath you take after being asleep.  It seemed as though spring had arrived overnight.

My entire time in Kandern, the trees had been brown and leafless.  I honestly was a little disappointed, since I had heard so much about the Black Forest, and it seemed much drabber than I had expected.  But now, seeing the green buds on trees and flowers on vines, I realized I was completely silly.  If I had a dog, I would have informed him that we weren’t in Florida any more.  Here was a strange world with dramatic seasons.  Usually people who move to Florida say that they miss the fall colors.  I had no idea that Florida just couldn’t capture spring colors, either.

Anyone care to identify these flowers?

My ankle hurt a little bit, but if I walked on it correctly it wasn’t a problem.  Exhilarated with the new world to discover, I decided to be more adventurous.  The main dirt path continued in front of me, but a narrower, grassier path curved up.  I could hear people nearby, but not in the direction of the path.  Robert Frost’s oft-quoted poem, “The Road Not Taken,” captured my thoughts exactly: the second path had “perhaps the better claim/ Because it was grassy and wanted wear.”   Though the trail was steep at times, I once again decided to not turn around until I found something exciting.

Stubborn, I pushed my way up, sometimes grabbing saplings for leverage.  Finally, I reached a rock face, and the path disappeared.  I was disappointed.  After my experience in Kandern with the castle, I expected every path to have something interesting at the end.  I wanted the less-traveled paths to yield secrets that only the brave few could share.  But here I was on the steep slope of a hill; I would have looked ridiculous if there was anyone around.

Finally, I gave up, partially because I didn’t want to try anything risky alone and with my ankle weakened.  I made my way back down.  At the steepest parts I had to sit on the ground and inch, careful not to slip on loose stones.  I was a little worried and mainly embarrassed.  “Geez, Jenn,” I muttered, “sometimes roads are less-traveled for a reason.”

A gentler path to take.