Day 10b - From Melk through the Wachau gorges

One of the loveliest portions of our trip from Nuremburg to Vienna is the short stretch of river in between Melk and Krems – the Wachau Valley.

And – as was our due – after mostly foggy days with no possibility of sitting on the “sun” deck – the sun came out whilst we were up at the Abbey and we were able to have our bridge talk out in the sun!

There were many castles starting straight after we left Melk and ending only when we had seen the one where Richard the Lionheart had been imprisoned (yes even in those days, kingdoms and empires were vast and there was always someone taking over someone else).

At the dock in Melk

Note on the left hand side of the building the marks on the wall - these are the high water marks throughout the centuries: the one that happened August 15, 1501 is still the highest!

Last cast off - Melk

One of many castles along the way

The river as we enter the Wachau gorges

Spitz - a popular resort for the Viennese most of it lies back from the river

Another boat is even more decorative than ours!

Peaceful flows the river

The ruins of the castle of a robber baron

This "Aggstein" castle had a history of robber barons and passed through many hands - never really overcame its history - some prisoners were held for ransom in cells overlooking the gorge and were threatened with death - some even jumped to their voluntarily due to the horrible conditions in which they were held.

Another side of the ruins

Church along the way

Church

 Although I forget the city... this church was built to sustain the entire population during a seige and was stocked at all times with victuals (mainly potatoes). One can see part of the surrounding wall and tower for protection.

Vineyards

The Wachau valley became known for its vineyards - climate conditions are mild and it is well appreciated by the Viennese to the South. These go back to the medieval period of the Roman settlements - today there is an association to maintain the quality and purity "six Wachau Commandments".

Rear of the church as we float away

Tourist enjoying the sun deck

ruins of castle Dürnstein (dry rock)

Statue of Richard the Lionheart and Blondel his aide

King Richard the Lionheart was imprisoned in Dürnstein by Duke Leopold V after their dispute during the 3rd Crusade.
Legend has it that he kept repeating a song with one line missing and that his French aide Blondel searching for him was able to sing that last line, thus learning of the spot where he was held and delivering him. Hard for us know to imagine how far kings, emperors and other nobility roamed in those days, especially as they were only on horses!

The Abbey of Dünstein

Also a fun story as according to our guide this tower was gray for many, many years, then they discovered that it had originally been blue and white, but when they repainted it during a renovation the town's people hated it as they thought that it should still have been gray!

The ruins of the Dürnstein castle

The Abbey at Dürnstein

Established in 1410 it was rebuilt in the early 1700s in the Baroque style - with the ruins of the castle behind it on the hills

As we leave Dürnstein, its' ruins, its' history and go down for our last lunch on the boat

The weather then promptly started clouding over - makes one wonder: the only truly sunny patch of the trip other than Munich lasted just long enough for us to enjoy this wonderful Wachau valley.

Last sunset on the Danube

From the ship's lounge during our last "Port Talk"

One last lock as the lights come on

The Kursalon

The Kursalon is where Johann Strauss II used to direct his orchestra as a first violin and enjoyed his first successes.

The Bösendorfer Piano

We enjoyed a two-hour concert of music from both Strausses and Mozart together with a glass of champagne at intermission: it might have been "kitsch for the tourists", but it was also a lovely moment in time.

Home to our beds on the River Concerto, docked in Vienna - a fitting end to a wonderful cruise.

At the drop of a hat…

I will change my plans. Sometimes I think that my middle name is “flexible”. People ask what I am doing next week – or enquire about such and such several weeks later to which I usually have to reply, “oh, that was the intended plan, but actually I did …” I also have recently caught myself saying on a rather regular basis: I no longer plan on a weekly or sometimes even a daily basis as things have been known to change 360° on an hourly basis (hmmm… should that perhaps be 180°? 360° would bring me theoretically back to my point of departure, or the intended plan).

 

Yesterday I had planned another great walk (weather almost as good as the day before, few very vague smudges of upper-level cloud wisps, instead of totally clear skies), catching up on all those things that I didn’t do yesterday due to that walk and perhaps even start that which I intended to do when I arrived 4 days ago. 

All wiped out with the appearance of my landlord and her tentative question: “I have a proposition: how do you feel about having La Brisolée?”  The Valais canton in Switzerland has an autumn meal of roasted chestnuts, cheeses, seasonal fruits, walnuts etc. The largest event – totally dedicated to La Brisolée is held in Fully! (Where the motocross champion of yesterday’s blog lives). http://www.fetedelachataigne.ch/fr/Deguster/La-brisolee/ (the site is in French, but I am sure that if you need to, I can help translate).  

As is so often the case, I am very difficult to convince – like all of a two-second pause and then it’s to heck with what I had planned, this is so much more interesting, more delicious, more exciting, simply more whatever.

Since I missed it last year (o.k. the wedding that I attended at the Presidio in San Francisco was more than a worthy contender) and since I wasn’t at all sure to be able to get it this year, I’m like “where shall I be, when”?   

She went to call the restaurant and even managed to talk them into taking us – as long as we came early and would promise to leave by 14:00. After all two are almost always possible, even on a beautiful sunny Sunday.  That meant a very short, quick walk during which I managed to trip on stones three times and roll on sticks another two, but actually remained upright! 

Then we were off on an adventure: a lovely meal of roasted (on coals, none of this electrical stuff for us) chestnuts, 8 different cheeses and the local dried meats: the all washed down by the first press of the grapes with dessert being apricot or apple pie: hard to take, I know. Not only the once-a-year meal, but on a terrace overlooking the vineyards and the city of Martigny: I can recommend Café Plan Cerisier (http://www.myswitzerland.com/en-ch/cafe-restaurant-de-plan-cerisier.html) to any and all.

Café du Plan-Cerisier

The wine "pressers"

The restaurant's terrace - we had a table overlooking the valley

Option Brisolée Royale

8 different, local cheeses and dried meats

typical rye bread of the Valais

chestnuts roasted over coals

Dessert - either apricot and hazelnut tarts or apple, together with seasonal fruits

Swiss flag visible through the canape of the chestnut trees

The vineyard two feet from my seat

 

View of Martigny from my seat

But then it got even better: she took me off to see the vineyards that she and her husband had tended for many, many years (inherited from her husband’s father) and the Mazot ( a stone hut used to store hay, cereals etc. in many areas, but also used as live-in huts whilst tending the vineyards: the name “mazot” is often now used for restaurants selling typically Swiss foods) in which they spent nights when they didn’t have the time to go back up to the mountains (the trip today only took a half an hour, but it did involve leaving the mountain, crossing town and back up another slight mountain). All the years that I have lived in Switzerland I have never been able to wangle a look into one of these so was more than interested.  We got lucky as the couple who had bought it from her daughter were actually there and again, the wonderfulness of the small villages, the neighborhoods where everyone knows their neighbors, they invited us in, offered us coffee: ensued a discussion on the various persons and families still occupying the other huts, who had sold, who had come. History as it should be transmitted. I didn’t want to be too intrusive so didn’t take pictures inside, but did love the fun of stonewalls, low ceilings with beams saying 1700s redone to modern standards, i.e. the small wooden table in the living room held two laptops; plugs were in abundance and the coffee was from a Nespresso machine.

View from the restaurant. Their mazot is in the distance

A neighboring mazot

A typical mazot - yet another neighbor

The front terrace of their mazot

typical slate roof and stone chimney

Another view from the restaurant of Plan-Cerisier

Change my plans at the drop of a hat – always game, never disappointed.

On the way to… or from

From various remarks over the past year or so, I realize that what I see as being totally normal  - to the point that I sometimes no longer even “see” it – is for others extraordinary. Today on my trip to the mountains I decided to consciously drive, to knowingly remark upon the beauty of my surroundings: not that it is all beautiful or even all interesting.

The drive is a very leisurely 2 hours from door to door, but today I stopped, took pictures, walked around, try to imagine seeing it all for the first time. It wasn’t a superb day, but also at least wasn’t raining either: a normal day in short.

Along this road (through France for about half of it), there are old wooden chalets, manor houses and small castles even, together with the 50s ugly and the box modern. Scenery is much more entertaining as I pass through fields of hay, corn, some with horses, some with cows then drive along the lake front for some 20 miles: small harbors, new parks, villages of all sizes (and interest). 

School & City hall Sciez

Fish fountain in Publier/Amphion

Evian is along this route and so scenes include the widest point of Lake Leman, the Olympic sized pool with a diving board into the lake that is higher than I ever want to stand on, the Casino, an old bell tower, the spa and the new Hilton (not on this particular road through Evian is the golf course and several very luxurious hotels).

They keep adding to their art work of old wood

The church tower behind an apartment building

There are parts, which are fairly wild, others entirely sleepy-little-village-in-the-sun and yet others new modern bungalows. There are the hidden beaches, the off-the-track churches (every time I drive through one small village I think someday I have to go see the Jean-Jacques Rousseau church – some almost 40 years later, still haven’t).

Fisherman off the "Petite Rive"

New lakefront park in Petite Rive

There is a difference in the feel – and even in the roads – in between France and Switzerland – only the trees, flowers and lake remain the same.

Looking across towards Montreux from St. Gingolph

At the end of the lake a sharp right turn brings me through a transitional valley with the French alps invisible behind the lower pre-alps on the right and the higher peaks of places such as Leysin, Les Diablerets and Villars in Switzerland to the left.  Here also there are winds so usually see hang gliders, real (airplane) gliders (there is a small airport), but today there were also a couple of military jets doing maneuvers. Plenty of water inland as well as I crossed the Rhone twice.

The vineyards at "Evouettes"

Left side mirror

Right side mirror

I had debated stopping off at the spa: Lavey-les-Bains, but in the end just wandered on to Martigny and went to the Giannada Museum instead to see the Renoir exhibition. From there I came across the newly renovated protestant temple where all the windows were changed into stained glass windows by a renowned Swiss artist: Hans Erni – the last of the windows he did at 105! He must be doing something right.

Up to my mountain abode and a short walk to see what’s new – just the setting sun bathing the mountaintop. I could actually see the Matterhorn from the farthest point, but my camera’s batteries decided that they had done enough for the day and quit on me: some memories are meant to just be mental.

End of the day