Thursday 28th September 2023

Turkheim to Kayserberg

Beat the church bell to be out of bed before 700am and get prepared for our 7km uphill walk to the high point in today’s walk. It’s almost a miniature of Christ The Redeemer in Rio.

Packed then soaked up the atmosphere, and most things on the breakfast menu, before bading farewell to a hotel which was deservedly rated as an historical monument.

The first thing we checked was whether the table napkin I inadvertently stole the other night was still tied to the door, as the restaurant was closed yesterday. Voila still there in all its glory and my clean criminal record retained.

The first 200 metres out to the town gate and over the old moat were the only flat bits we walked before 1130am.

We were immediately on a stone pathway winding up through the vineyards, slowly gaining height to give a view of city and surrounds.

As usual the hillsides were covered in vineyards and lots of handpickeers removing grapes or trimming the vines.

Towards the top we met a guy in the vines trimming and had a Franglish discussion about grape growing. He went to great lengths to explain the lot we were in housed the Grand Crus crop, which is top of the crop.

Topped the rise and then tested the thighs a bit more with a meander through more vines- cursing that last croissant I had, remembering that every extra kilo on hips multiplies 7 times in the pounding of the feet.

We struck the first instance of roses being planted at the end of vineyard rows to monitor the mildew- something much more common at home. The trellises were also planted much closer together ensuring no mechanical picking up in these hills.

Reached a semi flat spot on which another 20 person chapel was built back in the 16th century. It was one of many we would pass today. Again it was locked but you could see it’s simplicity through the window grilles.

it was onwards and upwards as we ducked into the forests where filtered sunlight was the order of the day and making an uphill walk s little less taxing, especially on stone covered tracks.

The track started to steepen and we knew we were getting higher when hot air balloons were visible in the distance. The track started to follow the outskirts of a small mountain village, it’s houses all with their own neatly stacked wood piles, probably courtesy of the guys we ran into later in the day doing a spot of log splitting.

There were some pretty impressive estates in the hillside township. Interestingly on the outskirts we sighted our first animals- a herd of well looked after angora goats which made a bit of sense when you saw the woolen products in the souvenir shops.

Once out of the town it was more pushing up hills into the forests where the local kids had built a rough shelter for either humans or the yet to be sighted ‘recently introduced fauna’.

We finally reached a bit of flat land in Galz where there was a botanical garden and picnic area and the first walkers we had encountered all day .

After navigating around them and trying to pick the right trail out of 5 on offer, we started on our zig zag route for the final kilometre of the climb.

We popped off the zig zag about half way up and we’re struck by a clinking sound behind us courtesy of 20 or so Nordic Walkers with their long poles rushing up the hill. Most of them left us in their wake but we all ended up in the same spot eventually – the high point of our walk Monument du Galz.

It was pretty impressive as was the panoramic view, which was enhanced with a winding stair climb inside to the top of the observation tower.

We stopped and took in the view, had a little snack and a chat with the ‘clinkers’ while the shirts dried out.

So after 3 or so hours of uphill and in a time just ahead of expectations we started the downhill decscent. It was on slightly rockier paths to start with, which transitioned slowly into softer forest paths as we headed downward. Passed a few more walkers who were headed up the hill and ended up at a war memorial – shrapnel included- which reflected on the losses in the 42-45 period of war as US and French turned the German forces back.

The spot was also a designated ‘view point’ with a lovely chair providing s spot for lunch, but believe it or not a well positioned tree that completely obscured the view. Planting tree was probably a good idea 10 years ago.

The seat provided a little more significance than we initially realised. After restarting our walk and making about 300 metres down the track, a plaintive call of ‘ I lost my phone’ came from Jane.

First thoughts were it was left at the monument a good hours walk back up the hill. As we returned towards the top Jane remember some squatting exercises she did to relieve the tension in her body and the phone may have popped out then. Much to our delight there it was intact sitting in the rocks.

A much relieved pair struck off down the hill and after about an hour we popped out of the forest onto a concrete path between the vines which took us into another pretty little village called Ammerschwihr. We did a little detour but found little open other than the public toilet.

Got our way back on track and followed our track signs, as well as some for the Way of St James, which goes from Canterbury to Spain. Ironically part of that walk was where we first met.

To our surprise we got a winding kilometre walk back up into the forest and then steeply into the township of Kayserberg, the birthplace of Albert Schweitzer.

The township was much bigger than the others we have visited, but just as beautiful with the different architecture, a myriad of shops, bars and restaurants and it’s own Moulin tapping into the Weiss River. There wasn’t much from a food perspective you could not buy.

Having a strong history of stork nesting, it was no surprise to find them dominant in signage etc

Wandered through to the other end of town to a hotel which was the opposite of last night – a very modern building with great facilities and no sloping roof.

The supposedly helpful mother and daughter owners were not quite up to the mark when it came to arranging dinner and a taxi for tomorrow, for a trip to an off route lunch spot recommended by our Francophile friend Tony Simon.

Got there in the end and then traversed the town before the usual routine of pre dinner drinks and another nice dinner. You could hardly jump over Jane’s serving of ham knuckle my chicken paled into insignificance.

After that meal we waddled back home, knowing tomorrow was a no walk day and a little sleep in possible.