The Almsbacher Klam

The effects of yesterday's marathon hike are apparent when I wake up, but I feel better after breakfast and a shower. Michael gives me another of his vitamin B tablets and within the hour I feel dizzyand nauseous again, but this time I make the connection, drink plenty of water and by the time we arrive in Maria Gern, a small village about five kilometres above Berchtesgaden, I am fully recovered. It is now midday and we stop for coffee and apfel strudel at a Gasthaus at the start of the woodland path that leads to the Almsbacher Klam.( Literally alpine meadow beck gorge). The sun is shining brightly, so we sit outside, but dark clouds are gathering to the west. The descent through the woods to the Klam is fairly straightforward and we complete it in about twenty minutes. The Klam is a spectacular limestone gorge, with a fast flowing stream descending through a series of waterfalls and pools for over a thousand feet. It is now a major tourist attraction and this being the Whitsuntide holiday week, it is a little like Disneyland, with numerous tourists making their way up and down the pathways that have been constructed on the side of the gorge, sometimes on the left bank and sometimes crossing over to the right. In earlier times the stream was dammed and used as a conduit for timber down to the water mills below. As we descend, the dark clouds arrive and we are subject to several short showers, but the steep sides of the gorge protect us from the worst effects. We eventually emerge at the water mill, having paid our entrance fee of 5 euros just as we exit, at two o'clock and walk the  short distance to the main road and the bus stop to Berchtesgaden. The next bus isn't due until ten to three, so Michael and I cross to the sunny side of the street, and take off our shirts until it is time for the bus. The bus is a large articulated, bendy, vehicle and is almost full when it arrives. We make the journey into town standing all the way. An elderly man makes a comment about my rucksack, but his dialect is too strong for me to understand and it is only later that I realise he was warning me to watch out for my bum bag on the crowded vehicle. The bus drops us at the bahnhof, ( railway station), in Berchtesgaden and we cross over the line on a bridge and follow a steep path up to the town, which is as pretty as it's well established reputation. In the distance, occasionally emerging from cloud cover, lies the Berghof, where Hitler had is residence. It has now been converted into a swanky modern hotel. Michael heads of to the Sparkasse to withdraw some money and we wait for him in the Kurhalle, where a group of lederhosened musicians are giving a concert of traditional music. When Michael returns, we make our way into the old town and stop for a late lunch/early dinner at a medieval timbered inn called Bier Adam, that my cousins recommend from their visit last year. Initially we sit outside and watch streams of tourist pass accompanied by their guides, ordering glasses of beer while we peruse the menu. Our waiter, in the obligatory lederhosen, is very camp and he and Michael, who is very butch, strike up an instant mutual antipathy. The showers return and although we are sat beneath umbrellas, it has also turned quite cold, so David asks if we can go indoors to the first floor restaurant that they visited last year. The waiter says he would have to open it specially for us and then flounces away in high dudgeon, before we can order. Fortunately the owner, a buxom black haired woman in her late forties also in traditional dirndl, comes to the rescue and takes our food order and tells us that we can go upstairs if we wish. However when we retire indoors, the downstairs restaurant is perfectly fine, there are numerous people eating and there is a spare table by the window, so we sit there. In continuation of my eat local campaign, I order the boiled ox breast with horseradish and parsley potatoes, it arrives about twenty minutes later along with the perch that Irene and Michael have ordered, David tackles the Bauernschmaus, or mixed grill, which is quite a meat feast. The landlady serves us, as the waiter is clearly giving Michael a wide berth and we enjoy both the food and the local beer, which is the best we have tasted on the holiday. We decide to get a taxi back to Maria Gern, where David's car is parked, but first call in at Tengelman's, a supermarket adjacent to the town square, where we restock with provisions. I chat to the taxi driver, as we make the five kilometre trip, complementing him on the beauty of his surroundings and he responds by saying that "we live in paradise here". We change into David's 4 x 4 for the trip back to the Wolfgangsee, arriving home around eight. David and Irene come to our flat for an hour and bring a bottle of wine, and I rustle up a salad and make bruschetta with some stale bread rolls left over from breakfast. We all turn in around eleven after another lovely day.