The day awoke dark and foreboding and the walk before us included the ascent and descent of two Balon des vosges, first into the valley of Wasserbourg and finally out of the vosges into the small town of Wintzfelden, a total of 800m up 800m down. A quick google check showed 8 degrees (current) with a max of 14 and the chance of rain. Of course we did what all great adventurers have done before us; donned our boots and packs, steeled ourselves against the elements and caught cab. But not before a delightful petite dejeuner of cold meats, cheeses, fresh bread and a gallon of so of hot coffee.
In fact, we only cabbed it to Wasserbourg to cut the journey in half and give ourselves an easy day. This proved a good call as the little valley drive to Wasserbourg was verdant, blossom filled and spotted with bell clad black and white cows. The valley is one-way only, very quiet with one small church, a post office and a handful of timber, stone and more modern cottages nestled together in between the two balons des vosges rising steeply on either side.
Views of WasserbourgIt was a steep zig-zagging rise up through the forest. The weather had cleared flooding the leaf littered clearings with light. At the top we stopped for a snack of goodies we purchased from a little old lady’s deli in Munster; olive sausage a smoked sausage, and home made almond chocolate.
There are many large white snails in the forest and long sleek black slugs with red trim. As a particularly large black slug slowly passed, Di wondered whether it would enjoy sausage. I thought not, but no sooner had Di placed said sausage on the ground than the slug lifted it skirts, pulled a hard left and descended on the petite morsel of sausage with a gusto, devouring it whole. It paused after a brief chew, spat out the rind and gave a loud, satisfied belch, or so it seemed to me. It then curled up in a ball and died.
Manicured gardens in WintzfeldenDi says my writing suffers from an overuse of metaphor and hyperbole (in fact she says a make shit up) but I can confirm, with hand-on-heart, that on this occasion at least, I’ve not ventured too far from the truth and the sausage-eating-slug did look very sick indeed, still alive but breathing heavily and listing dangerously to one side. Di, looking a little concerned, suggested that it was “digesting”.
We quickly packed away our goodies (careful not to leave any evidence of forest fauna foul-play) and scooted off into the forest, down now from the top of Hirtzenstein (802m). By far the nicest descent so far, a gradual wending decline through patches of open mixed timber Forest (dark pines and vibrant lime cotton woods) and into more dense copses of pine. The forest is clearly harvested here but they manage to take the larger trees and leave the rest to leave a pleasing open park effect. Every direction seems to reveal the ideal picnic spot; a lawn of soft wintergrass splashed with light, overhung with massive leafy boughs, surrounded by mossy rocks with glimpses of the valley below.
We saw one deer intently watching us before bolting into the forest. The broad meander of our path as it followed the mountains contour formed the top of a massive amphitheatre where the forest dropped steeply down into the green below. A second deer saw us first and burst into the leafy sunlight of the amphitheatre and we saw its white tail disappearing into the shadows of the underbrush further down (exit stage left).
We finally emerged from the forest’s canopy in Wintzfelden greeted by two women on horseback who directed us to the only hotel in town. That sets the tone for this town – money. It appears to be a quiet town that, whilst perhaps once a rural community, is now where the well-healed elderly retire or take weekend holidays. Beautiful new homes accented with architectural rural and rustic “flavours” and all with stunning manicured gardens. Apart from the hotel and a school there was nought but these amazing homes all trying to out do each other with the manicure of their lawns.
The hotel is great with an amazing restaurant stocking all the best local wines – many of which we’ve been forced to sample. We enjoyed the long afternoon sitting on our little balcony blogging and watching the old couple across the way triple mow their stunning winter grass lawn.