As ever, getting into and subsequently an hour later, getting back out of Berlin was like being treated to a masterclass in logistical management. Everything went like clockwork and this efficiency extended out into the countryside as I neared my ultimate destination. However, I didn't waste my hour in Berlin and managed a whistle-stop tour round the Reichstag and The Brandenberg Gate, pausing only for the now obligatory selfie.
From the train, the neat regimentation of the Berlin experience was further echoed in the tidy, precise fields and forests as we hurtled past, bang on schedule.
I'd never heard of Osterode prior to booking this trip (nor had I heard of The Harz Mountains to be honest), but it proved to be a very pretty little town with medieval half timbered houses crowded round the market square, where the impressive church and Ratskeller (town house) dominate the skyline. It being pre-season, the streets were empty, giving me the unsettling feeling that the child-catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang would be round every corner.
Fortunately he wasn't, and that evening's introduction to German cuisine (schnitzel and beer) was consumed with no interruption.
Day 1: Osterode to Buntenbock
Legend has it that witches from all over Europe would gather annually on a mountain called Brocken in the heart of this region, for ritual ceremonies and general witchery - swapping spells, recipes, and broom techniques etc. They used the trail as kind of witch-super-highway, and this has certainly turned into a modern day obsession with the local populace. Witches abound, with all shops and houses decorated with statues, and the forests littered with witch sculptures which at least re-assure you that you are on the right track.
Legend has it that witches from all over Europe would gather annually on a mountain called Brocken in the heart of this region, for ritual ceremonies and general witchery - swapping spells, recipes, and broom techniques etc. They used the trail as kind of witch-super-highway, and this has certainly turned into a modern day obsession with the local populace. Witches abound, with all shops and houses decorated with statues, and the forests littered with witch sculptures which at least re-assure you that you are on the right track.
And so, to the walk itself. Starting from Osterode, it ends in Thale 96kms later, with Brocken right in the middle. The first day's walking takes me 12km to a place called Buntenbock, a sleepy little hamlet surrounded by reservoirs and water channels that for centuries have supplied power to the local mining industry. It's hard to believe this is a mining area as the landscape could not be more different from what we in the UK would recognise as such.
The walk was uneventful, yet very pleasant. I encountered only a few fellow walkers, and mostly had the singing of birds and the ringing of church bells to accompany me as I followed the clearly signposted route, meandering through thick pine forests, offering numerous vistas of distant red-roofed villages.
On reaching Buntenbock, the staff at my accommodation could not have been more friendly, and a combination of sign language, repeating the same words in our own languages and frantic pointing finally secured me a rather delicious evening meal consisting of a as yet to be identified fish on a bed of spinach.
I was mildly alarmed when I was handed my allocated room-key, but Room 101 turned out to be relatively benign and a good night's sleep was assured.
Day 2: Buntenbock to Altenau
Rain had fallen during the night, and the skies promised more to come, so the Scottish walking gear was retrieved from the rucksack, replaced by yesterday's t-shirt and baseball cap. Following a robust German breakfast, from which I was encouraged to secure a packed lunch for my journey, I was soon en route, battling my way through the newly falling heavy rain. The trail surfaces were good, so the weather proved not to be a problem other than a little discomfort.
The landscape continued in the same vein as yesterday with the path winding it's way through thick pine forests. The main difference was the addition of numerous, centuries old water channels and dykes, which seemed to blend perfectly with their surroundings. It made for easy walking as the path hugged the main water channel, which used gravity to move the water to its destination, therefore (to the naked eye), perfectly flat.
However, the rain turned to violent hailstones (bizarrely interspersed with fleeting strong sunshine - see below for a rare sunny snap) and subsequently, snow!
Boy, was I glad to reach my accommodation at Altenau. Once the snow had stopped, I wandered into the village and treated myself to a fillet steak. The fact it was the only thing in the menu I could understand is neither here nor there.
Tomorrow sees me heading to Witch Central!
Day 3 - Altenau to Brocken
The snow was still falling, although not lying whenI left my digs in Altenau, climbing up out of the village to join the trail where I left it yesterday afternoon. As the snow slowly abated, I was soon picking up a decent pace through the familiar pine forest landscape with the path meandering it's way alongside the endless water channels, which were of such an age they felt as much part of the natural landscape as the trees themselves.
I bumped into a couple I'd met at the hotel who were walking part of the route I was doing that day. I'd assumed they were German when we spoke earlier, but as they chatted in flawless English the second time we met it transpired they were Danish. Bizarrely, the husband was an obsessive fan of the bagpipes, and despite no Scottish links whatsoever, he devoted all his spare time playing in a Danish pipe band and was heading to Forres for the World Championhips in the summer! It is ALWAYS worth making the effort to chat to people!
I wished him luck with the Championships and left them studying their map as they had reached their turn off.
It wasn't long after that encounter that the landscape changed somewhat - as did the weather. The snow started falling again, and the path was quickly transforming from the flat to a steep climb. With the snow beginning to lie, the path was increasingly less distinct. Whilst never dangerous to any point, it was much harder going than I'd become used. I was on the Magdeburger Weg, a mountain pass that leads steeply up to the lower reaches of Brocken, the highest mountain in Northern Germany.
Soon the path opened up again and I found myself on a wide forest road, with the snow now falling heavily.
There was something 'other worldly', something noteworthy about the landscape or the atmosphere that prompted me to take the next photo, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
It wasn't until after I had completed my walk that the significance of this site was pointed out to me (thanks Gabriele & Thomas). This was the point in the walk where the Iron Curtain cut across the route, and I would have been crossing from West to East Germany. I was thankful I'd felt the urge to take the photo.
Despite the snow, the going was good and after my subconscious border crossing I was treated to the wonderful site of a steam train charging through the snow covered forest, shaking the ground under my feet.
This reminded me that I was near my final destination, but it was hard to tell as thick cloud shrouded the summit. However, it was worth loitering for a while before finally heading into what's now the hotel, as the clouds finally broke and gave me a stunning view of the cluster of buildings on the summit, framed by a beautiful blue sky.
This former Soviet Bloc listening post has now been converted into a hotel and (would you believe) conference centre, and while the interior was nothing special (though thankfully 100% wind and water right) the restaurant and breakfast rooms turned out to be magnificent.
Not much witch-type activity was evident, despite the ares reputation, but the cloud was so thick anything could have been going on out there.
I was out like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow.
Day 4 - Brocken to Konigshutte
It had been snowing heavily again overnight, so the full mountain gear was donned after breakfast and I was soon outside waiting on a final photo opportunity. Breaks in the cloud were all too fleeting so, after a couple of half hearted selfies (just to prove I was there, and yes, that eerie science-fiction style landscape does actually exist) I decided to risk the descent.
The tarmac road off the mountain was remarkably clear of snow, making for a pacy descent. The clouds finally broke, giving over to strong sunshine, which made quick work of stripping the trees of their blanket of snow.
The vistas were magnificent in parts, and every photo stop also resulted in a layer being removed until I was walking in my shirt sleeves with the wooly hat stowed and replaced by a baseball cap to protect the baldy head from the fierce sun.
A short stop at Drei Annen Hohne to admire the steam engines and the old station building, allowed me to enjoy my packed lunch as the trains and the tourist came and went, then I was soon on my way again.
The Konigshutte falls proved a little underwhelming, but my accomodation for the evening proved to be a wee gem, and I finished the day with a cold beer in the warm sun in their beer-garden - a world away from how the day had started.
Shorter walk tomorrow, with a mere 10km taking me to Rubeland.
Day 5 - Konigshutte to Rubeland
A shorter walk today which initially offered nothing more than the same very pleasant walking and some great views back to Brocken, with it's mast glistening in the milky sunlight.
Meaningful photo opportunities were thin on the ground, but I did stumble across a very neat little cemetery with a wee reminder of past times.
Thankfully, with regard to the photo ops, I ended up chatting to an old German couple who were heading home from the cemetery. I say 'chatting', but it more like animated, rudimentary sign language - mostly on my part. However, what they did manage to communicate - mostly by physically dragging me - was that taking a slight detour off the offices route would give me some great views of Rubeland, and boy were they right?!
I also took their advice and visited the limestone caves in the village called 'Baumanns Hohle'. It was pretty impressive, although I did have to stand cluelessly listening to the guide endlessly waxing lyrical in Geman about (presumably) the process and history of what we were gawping at, as the rest of the tourists 'oooohed' and 'aaaahed' with delight.
Photography is strictly 'verboten' so I have shamelessly swiped the second photo below from the internet (apologies and acknowledgments to whoever owns the copyright), but it helps give you a flavour of 'what lies beneath'.
Tomorrow's sees me walking to Treseburg via Altenbrak - about 17 kms according to the blurb.
Day 6 - Rubeland to Tresesburg
'Dreich' is a good old Scots word that perfectly describes today's soggy conditions. It also sounds a bit German, so I feel justified in using it. It's one of those words that even when you don't know the menacing, you can kind of guess, as it sounds so miserable. However, it day wasn't 100% 'dreich' and there were dry spells, some of which were even punctured by occasional bursts of sunshine, and I felt honoured that one of them coincided with my passing the church at Neuwerk.
I can also thank the damp conditions for encouraging my wee friend below to make an appearance.
Today's route was slightly longer than I was led to believe, but despite that and the wet conditions, I was enjoying the walk and had fallen into a good rhythm which ensured the kilometres were being eaten up under my muddy boots. A short stop to marvel at the absailing daredevils at the dam over Wendedurth (coinciding with a short burst of decent weather) was the only interruption to my pacy progress.
Treseburg is a pretty little town, typical of the area, and I'm not going to pretend it wasn't a welcome site when I rounded the last corner and saw my accommodation for the evening. A chance to dry out!
Last day of walking tomorrow!
Day 7 - Treseburg to Thale
The weather had improved a little when Ieft in the morning, setting off for the final leg, and I was happy to witness improving significantly as the day wore on.
The route for today basically consisted of the Bode Gorge, a 10 kilometre ravine that forms the final section of the Bode valley leasing to Thale and the end of Harz Witches Trail. It impressive to begin with, and only got better. Once I relaxed after reading the initial warning signs that is....
.....and something told me they weren't joking!
The landscape became more dramtatic as I ventured deeper into the gorge, and I was really struggling to do it justice with my wee camera - when technology came to the rescue. A cable car!! The lazy-mans way to the top (Oh, come on! I'd been walking for a week remember!!).
Anyway, after my airborne adventure I realised that I only had a couple of kilometres left. Marching on through what was now an Easter holiday weekend throng (a bit disconcerting after a week of solitude) I was counting down the last few witch signs that would lead me to my final destination.
Another long distance walk ticked off! A real cracker this one was too. Great food, great accomodation, great (of course) German beers, and above all great people, both those looking after me each night, and those I bumped into along the way - all of whom deserve credit for putting up with my feeble efforts at speaking German with impressive patience and good humour.
Thanks to them all!
After the obligatory finish-line snaps, I hopped on a train to be next town along the line where my final night's stay was.
Quedlinburg is a UNESCO World Hertitage site, a living fairy tale and a photographer's delight. I could fill a whole blog with the amount of photos I took there, but to avoid being a holiday bore (and if you've got this far I can only assume that you haven't formed that opinion yet), I'll leave you with a montage of snaps I took, all within 2 minutes walk of each other.
Thanks for reading - and get yourselves out there!!
Thanks again.
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