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    • A Visit to Hallstatt

      Let’s get the obvious out of the way: Hallstatt is a tourist town. Thousands visit, take the same photos and leave. The crush of people in the middle of the day is an adjustment if you aren’t expecting it, but really—you should be expecting it. Hallstatt is famous for the iconic vista and the swarms that seek it out. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go, just go prepared.

      Hallstatt is popular because it’s incredibly beautiful. like anything beautiful you either see it at surface level or you take the time to understand it at a deeper level. Linger with the little things. Savor the prolific roses that obviously love the climate. Get up really early and walk the town before anyone else is awake. Hike out to where the masses aren’t inclined to go. Don’t just be mesmerized by that pretty face looking back at you, ask for more.

      There’s a camaraderie that develops with early risers. We all seek the same thing, and respect boundaries. After all, mornings are for reverence. In Hallstatt the mission seems clear—get your money shot photo. Before dawn there were two of us waiting for the light, that number soon doubled and then tripled just before the bells rang at 6 AM. It was time to move on. You learn to linger, but never overstay. You must remember to savor this place you’ve imagined going to for so long.

    • A Visit to the Pristine Königssee

      I’d had this day circled for months, anticipating a spectacular day on the gorgeous Bavarian lake known as Königssee. I’d gotten a peek at the northernmost tip of the lake high atop Eagle’s Nest the day before, and it seemed finally real. And on a warm summer day when seemingly everyone was swimming in the lake and brilliant blue skies contrasted with the mountains, the experience exceeded expectations.

      The logistics of getting there seemed straightforward—it was a short drive from the hotel and the parking lot was plenty big. But that parking lot proved a stumbling block. Most of the pay machines only accept coins, and the change machines weren’t working. There are some credit card readers which also weren’t functional. Signage said to go to the information center for change, but it didn’t open until 09:00. That left several people scrambling for change. Fortunately an acquaintance happened to park nearby and had the app on his phone to pay. Hurdle cleared.

      Königssee, at almost five miles long, and its beautiful little lake sister Obersee, sit within Berchtesgaden National Park. Like Zion National Park in the United States, the towering rock faces seemed a cathedral surrounding you in a hug. You feel inclined to return that affection. There are plenty of options to feel the spirit of the place walking the paths, hiking, sitting in the biergarten or on Königssee itself. Of course, you may feel inclined to do all of those things.

      The famous electric boats leave from Schönau am Königssee, with stops in St. Bartholomä and Salet. To make the most of your visit to Königssee you really should go to Salet. The longer trip brings you past the beautiful Schrainbach Wasserfall as it plunges into the lake. Salet itself offers dining services, but also access to Lake Obersee and the spectacular Röthbachfall as it plunges over 400 meters down a sheer rock cliff. As a bonus there’s another waterfall to the left that likely feels resentful at its bigger sibling getting all the attention. The hike itself is easy and offers some incredible vistas along the way.

      As an American with the tiniest grasp of the German language I was left in the dark when our boat guide rapidly rattled off historical facts and one-liners that had the passengers in stitches, but managed to pick up just enough to follow along. What transcends language barriers is music, and the highlight of the boat ride was our guide playing his trumpet accompanied by its echo on the mountain walls surrounding us. It was magical. So too is Königssee.

    • A Visit to Eagle’s Nest

      You feel the history of the place well before you walk through the marble tunnel to the polished brass elevator that carries you more than 400 feet to the Eagle’s Nest. You feel it when you see the broken old bricks that were once the steps leading to the door of the most famous villain in modern history. You feel it when see the old guard hut still standing stoically almost 80 years since Nazis stood in it. Eagle’s Nest reputation precedes a visit you make to it.

      The German word for Eagle’s Nest is Kehlsteinhaus. It remains largely the same as it was when Hitler and the worst of humanity plotted invasions and mass extermination of large segments of the population within reach of this mountainous enclave. That it was spared during the bombing raids of 1945 or the subsequent destruction of Hitler’s prized home is a lucky break. For all its dark history, Eagle’s Nest today is a beautiful place to spend a day.

      Despite the complexity of building a mountain road with its network of bridges and tunnels, cutting an entry tunnel and elevator shaft out of rock and dropping a building on top of it all, thousands of skilled laborers got it done in just over a year. For Hitler, a guy afraid if heights, that drive up must have been terrifying. Good. Who wants to think of him enjoying it?

      Walking around the mountaintop on a beautiful day, the world opens up around you. The stunning Berchtesgaden Alps surround you and sparkling Lake Königssee shimmers below. This place is a wonder. But don’t plan to stay for long at the top. People are moved in and out with quick efficiency. It may have started as a Nazi lair designed to awe visitors, but today it’s a major tourist attraction. Still in the business of awe, but very much on a tight schedule.

    • Here It Comes! A Visit to Krimml Waterfall

      Live water heals memories. I look up the creek and here it comes, the future, being borne aloft as on a winding succession of laden trays. You may wake and look from the window and breathe the real air, and say, with satisfaction or with longing, “This is it.” But if you look up the creek, if you look up the creek in any weather, your spirit fills, and you are saying, with an exulting rise of the lungs, “Here it comes!” —Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

      I’m told that Krimml Wasserfall, or Krimmler Waterfall if you prefer, is the tallest waterfall in Europe. The cascades are broken up into distinct falls and the landscape makes it impossible to see the entire waterfall when you’re standing near it. Instead you hike up and discover the falls a bit at a time. With an hour to see them, this presented a slight problem—we simply couldn’t see the entire waterfall on this trip. But seeing half was quite impressive.

      It’s quite easy for your spirit to fill when you feel the spray swirl around you and hear the roar of frigid whitewater meeting stubborn rock. Maybe this is why we seek out big waterfalls, but small plunges offer their own lift. A giant like Krimml amplifies that spirit lift with awe. A visit locks in new memories.

    • Beyond the Same Place

      “For I assure you, without travel, at least for people from the arts and sciences, one is a miserable creature!…A man of mediocre talents always remains mediocre, may he travel or not–but a man of superior talents, which I cannot deny myself to have without being blasphemous, becomes–bad, if he always stays in the same place.” — Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

      There are forces that work on you when you’re in the middle of travel. Time flexes, and the clock you’re familiar with slips off-kilter. Truthfully, it’s us that slips off-kilter, the clock remains indifferent. Travel forces adaptation and change. Those who stubbornly hold on to their routine aren’t rewarded with the benefit of transformation. Let the world wash over you and the old ways of thinking are swept away. You’re carried to new ideas and lifted to new places.

      In one evening of wine-fueled conversation I practiced German with Austrians, French with a well-travelled Frenchman and discussed the origins of Christian names with an Irish woman. Moments like that remain locked in your mind, even as it releases you from your previous way of looking at the world. We can never stay in the same place, we must reach beyond to grow.

      We’re all on a path of becoming something more than we might otherwise be. Travel done well is a shock to the system, allowing us to get past ourselves. It can’t help but make us better at our work, for it surely transforms us as people.

    • The Time to Acclimate

      How long does it take to acclimate to a place? Not just the climate or the language or the way people drive, but also the way you think about the place you left behind to go there, and the way you feel about what you’ll regret leaving when you return. For aren’t these the truest indicators of acclimation? When you’ve lingered in a place just long enough that it seeps into your being?

      Most travel is a dalliance with a destination. We swoop in, check the box and dash off to our next destination to check the next box. There’s no acclimation—there’s barely a chance for more than a surface-level awareness of where we are. We see the site, stay in the place, snap the Instagram photo and move on. How can this possibly be considered immersive travel?

      It took a full 24 hours to figure out the bells in Italy. It took another two days before I stopped looking at my watch to confirm the time. I imagine another month or two and I’d just know what time it was without ever hearing the bells at all. When we travel we swim in that place’s unique environment either way. Should we stay in the shallow end or dive deeply?

      We ought to linger more. Get a feel for the place. Acclimate.

      Lingering in places unique and wonderful

    • Go, Deeply

      “Nobody ever figures out what life is all about, and it doesn’t matter. Explore the world. Nearly everything is really interesting if you go into it deeply enough.” — Richard P. Feynman

      Each day is an opportunity to discover—inching further along on our search for more insight into who we are. We may never find the true meaning of life, but why do we even dwell on such things? Meaning comes from action. We ought to live deliberately and stack the building blocks into whatever form suits us in our brief dance with the world.

      The world unfolds for us one moment at a time. What do we do with that experience? Shouldn’t we layer it into our identity, not in arrogant claims of global box-checking, but in accumulated bits of flavor and influence? What makes us interesting is our passionate interest in the complex dynamics playing out around us, be that human tendencies or the larger forces in the universe. Immersive travel, reading, listening and education are where we serve our apprenticeship in being citizens of the universe.

      So just when do we transcend apprenticeship? Can we ever, really? We reach closer to mastery when we venture more deeply into the act of living. Boldly layering experience and accumulated knowledge into a rich, meaningful life. And maybe that’s just enough.

    • The Magic Is in the Smallest Things

      Walking around in Salzburg, Austria offers a visual feast of bustling streets and five squares, the Salzach River, the Salzburg Cathedral, the cafes and biergartens, and above all, the Hohensalzburg Fortress high atop Festungsberg hill. The core hardscape is essentially the same for us as it was for Mozart 250 years ago. You can feel history with every step in this city. You can hear the whispers of all those who came before you.

      One small detail struck me more powerfully than all the ornamentation in Salzburg combined. Walking along the Getreidegasse, with all its shops and people from all over the world, I came across a doorway with four pull cables that ran up the outside wall to the four floors above, each cable run to the inside of each apartment. It was an old doorbell system from the days before electricity, still functional today. I wanted to ring the bell and ask the local resident if I could see the bell on the other side of the cable. And imagine this has likely happened many times on such a busy street with such a tantalizing pull readily at hand for those returning from biergartens late in the day.

      It’s funny the things that stick with you when you travel. I look for small details like this wherever I go, for these details are where the magic is. The smallest things speak the loudest if you’ll only slow down long enough to listen.

      Doorbell pulls from another era

    • Encountering Seceda

      “Take the time to put the camera away and gaze in wonder at what’s there in front of you.” — Erick Widman

      Somehow, when visiting the one place I’d circled as a must-see on this weekend diversion south from Austria and Bavaria, I’d left both cameras behind. Realizing it halfway up the first cable car I cursed out loud, startling my wife buried in terror in my chest. She has a distinct fear of heights and the journey up to Seceda was a big ask. But at least she’d remembered her iPhone. Damage mitigated.

      When you walk out from that second cable car and the world opens up around you, it feels otherworldly. The spiky peaks, the snow-capped vista far off in the distance, and the green alpine meadows beginning at your feet each draw the eye and boggle the mind. I envy the people who see this for the first time stepping out to greet it. For me, YouTube videos had teased the view for months. Yet it exceeds expectations anyway.

      Without a camera, I forced myself to soak it all in. iPhone 10 image quality? Good enough. I’ll leave it for the hordes of Instagramers and YouTubers with their drones and expensive cameras and models to better capture the essence of the place. For me, this will do.

      We spent a few hours with the view, borrowing my wife’s phone for some pictures but mostly leaving well enough alone. This was a sign telling me to relax a bit with the Instagram feed. Gaze with a healthy dose of wonder at the world around you.

    • Early Morning Walk in Castelrotto

      As an American from the northeast, I know all about traffic, but it was a surprise to encounter so much of it on the stretch from Hohenschwangau, Germany to Castelrotto, Italy. Then again, it was a beautiful Saturday morning and the world seemed to be going on holiday. Chalk it up to poor planning on my part. If there was a silver lining, the drive was stunningly beautiful and all that sitting at a standstill allowed me to look around.

      When we finally got to Castelrotto, we weren’t inclined to jump right back into the car and leave this lovely little town. A brief walk after dinner revealed the character of the place, which prompted an early morning walk before the bell tower started its daily ritual of marking time beginning at 6 AM. The magic in any place is revealed on the edges of the day, for me that time before the world wakes up is most special. And so it was that I fell in love with this little town that seemed impossible to get to the day before.

      There are three languages spoken here, and the locals seem to know a few more than that. Italian, German and Ladin are the core languages, which reveals both geography and a history of land grabbing. World War I settled the border, but the locals seem to roll with it and pivot quickly to whatever language you’re speaking. After my brief stumbling with German, that generously included English. No matter, the beauty of the place transcends my words anyway.