Salzburg. Her fondest memory is touring the salt mines. She remembers
sliding down into the mines with thick overalls on, her butt heating
up due to friction on the wooden slides. She cannot remember where the
mines were, and it appears there are three to choose from, but which
is the correct one? This is our quest. Also, the murdering, maniacal,
meglomaniac Hitler received a villa on the tip of a ridge crest 5000'
above Berschtergaden as a 50th birthday present from Martin Borman. I
want to see this monument to the madman that threw the world's switch to
"self destruct" mode.
Up at 6:30, shower, secure the tent and head for the bus stop. We are
headed south of Salzburg to the town of Hallien-one of three possible
sites for the beloved salt mine. The train takes 45 minutes, then a
half hour wait for a bus to the mine. As we walk into the tourist site
Sally declares this is not the one. But, we have committed an hour and
a half to getting here, so on with the tour.
First white coveralls, then a mining cart train ride 3/4 of a
kilometer into the mountain, some walking, a wooden slide or two, some
exhibits and a boat ride across a saline pond and we are back in the
sunlight. Other than a slightly sour and pompous tour guide who did
not speak in English until we asked him to and then did so as if we
were ignorant cretants, being the only two none German speakers on the
tour it was a good experience.
Back at the bus stop we found a 45 minute wait for the next bus back
into town, so we stuck out our thumbs and got a ride with a nice young
Austrian with his young daughter in the car seat in the back, now with
Sally. I guess we looked safe. 10 minute ride, 5 minute walk and we
were back at the train station. The ticket man said two minutes until
the next train to Salzburg, so we found our platform, stepped aboard
and were soon back on the Salzburg Gleis. Everyone had directed us to
take the bus to Berschtergaden, but the train we had been on was
continuing on to this small mountain city. We asked at the info Kiosk
which was preferable, bus or train. She said what did it matter, they
went to the exact same place, also a little haughtily. So we hustled
back to the train we had just left and rode on to Bertschtergaden.
The main bus station is always right outside the train station, but in
this case there was no sign to the Eagle's Nest. This seemed
surprising. We asked a few bus drivers until we got the correct bus
number, then hopped aboard for a steep, twisting ride up the valley
wall. We got out to take the private bus to the Eagle's Nest. The ride
from here up is clinging to the mountain side and only one lane wide,
so the buses come up in mass, 5 at a time, and down the same way. To
reach his villa, you exit the bus and enter a 243 meter long (German
exactness) tunnel and catch an elevator 243 meters straight up into
the house. (For you geometry fans that means an isosceles right
triangle, with two perfect legs, although the hypothenuse was pretty
jagged with rock outcrops and trees.) An hour and a half of ogling and
picture taking and we were back at the tunnel entrance ready to
descend to Bertschtergaden.
In town we inquired about their salt mine and found it to be within
walking distance, although the last tour was at five and it was now
4:30. We hustled and made it in time. Still, nothing looked familiar
to the memory seeking girl. She vividly remembers waiting for hours in
line next to a bakery whose smells were driving her as crazy as old
Adolf. Still, you don't fly half way around the world and then back
out due to olfactory influences, so we paid the price, donned our
overalls and repeated the morning activity.
This time the girl was all smiles. "Yes! This is it!!" The caverns
were bigger, the slides longer and steeper, the displays more high
tech and informative and the guide funny. Because it was the last tour
of the day he let us climb back up on the stairs and slide down again.
A high spirited, if not tired walk back to town center, dinner at a
Chinese restaurant, a Skype phone call to Jeff while waiting for the
train to depart and a train ride back to Salzburg completed the day.
We had successfully found our ghosts and slept the sleep of a
satisfying and fun day.
A note about European camping. They are as crazy as us. Our campground
is just off the autobahn, so the traffic noise is terrific. The
campground is filled with gas guzzling RVs parked side by side with
just enough room for a table between. But, the big difference are the
restrooms. These are better than any you would find at a five star
hotel. Private shower and toilet stalls, completely tiled, spotlessly
clean. Have not had to wait for an open stall yet. At 20€ a night,
it eases the financial pain of traveling. We have now camped 6 of 19
nights.
Chuck
No comments:
Post a Comment