Today takes us away from the Wutach gorge itself and into the forest. It almost feels tropical, with moss and ferns and mushrooms everywhere. Look at the yellow ones!
Up and up in the muddy forest, we pass a deserted public swimming pools, and arrive at the Räuberschlössle - a fancy name for what is the location of a once impregnable fortress, destroyed and used, according to local stories, as a hiding place for the robbers raiding the area. There's nothing here but a beautiful signpost, a lovely clearing for a mid-hike rest and beautiful view down into the Wutach gorge.
Onward and downward we cross yet another covered bridge, and I'm immediately reminded of the 1990's movie, Bridges of Madison County, with Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep. I loved that movie, I wonder how it has aged...
Through the forest and above the gorge, we can hear the water rambling below us. By mid-day we find ourselves at the edge of the woods, farm land around us. As the trail turns into a wide gravel path, we we pick up a smaller trail running in parallel but quieter and more secluded.
As we emerge from the wood this last time we see that we are on the outskirts of a town, houses with small farms next to them mixed with more modern buildings and a sidewalk. In a few minutes we are crossing a municipal park, looking for a place to hide from the rain that turned from drizzle into a pour.
It's always a safe bet in small central-European towns to look for the town hall, next to the church. That's where you are likely to find the bakery. And if you are lucky, they will serve food. We do exactly that, finding a cafe full of hikers and old ladies. We order soup with a pot of tea and make a decision on our next steps. There's a bus from here to our hotel, or we can hike the hill - it's a simple 300 meters ascent. I don't want to push my mom too much, so it's her call - she is 76 after all. She decides to continue hiking, because "otherwise we will get to the hotel too early, and then what will we do". The dry German logic always wins.
Crossing the street and taking a left we head out of town and up. As we reach a small church and then the rain really starts pouring again. We huddle under the roofed church entrance, taking our rain gear out. A group of German hikers join us, one of them entering the church itself only to be told off by his outraged and amused friends that "you can't change your clothes in a church!". Good thing we had the same conversation ourselves a few second before.
From here its a straight line up the hill. My mom tells me that she will meet me at the top, so I hike my own pace. But I stop at every trail junction to make sure she sees where I'm going. There are things you learn about hiking as a child you never forget. One of them is never loose line of sight with the other hikers in your group.
We reach the top but there is nothing to see, as everything is covered in clouds and rain. On the other side the descent is shorter, and in no time do we hit the road and the tiny tiny village of Fischbach - just a few houses located on both sides of the road into the much larger Schluchsee.
Hotel Restaurant Hirschen is large and traditional looking from the outside, but with a modern restaurant decorated in deer motifs. This is the third night in a row we see the couple we name "our friends" - a German couple hiking the trail parallel to us, always overtaking us in the later hours of the morning. They walk in a unified rhythm, fast and efficient and never deflating. Dinner here is typical to the region, heavy with meat with the option of Hirsch - deer - prominent. A conversation develops with family at the next table: she is American, he is Dutch-speaking Belgian, and the children move languages and accent without even noticing.
Another great day had ended.
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