Hi All!

I just came back from an “only girls weekend” with my best (female) friend Anke.

We went to the Bavarian Forest. We chatted, hiked (just a little bit, it was so damn hot and humid), ate, drank, and simply had a wonderful time.

When we were at the same place two years ago, we hiked for 26 km on one day and 22 km on the next day (and the year before, we didn’t hike very much because it was all rainy, but we went to see movies on two evenings in a row).
This time, we stopped after 20 minutes in this wonderful place...

...to have a break and drink the first .75 litres.
Did I already mention it was quite hot?

Then we went on.
Up...

...and up...

...and up...

...and up.
Interrupted by some break here and there. We were not in a hurry because we had reserved two beds for the night.

The hill or mountain is called the “Lusen” (pronounce: loosen). It’s 1.373 metres and one of the higher mountains in the Bavarian Forest. It is within the borders of the Bavarian Forest National Park. In the early 1980es, some violent storms bent and disrooted most of the trees on the mountain tops. Bark beetles multiplied and put the rest over the edge. As it’s a national park, reforestation is prohibited (which upsets a lot of forest land owners as their woods are also threatened by the bark beetles). The forest will grow again, but it might take 100 years to grow to full height.
Until then, the sceleton-like dead tree trunks of the conifers reach to the sky like silver fingers.

Underneath, ferns, mountain ashes and new conifers began to grow.
The naked mountain tops provide a strange view over the landscape, and especially the Lusen with its granite bolders.

(There’s a saying that the devil threw the blocks to were they are today.)

View to the Czech side. It’s still greener there, because they still do forestry in that area.

Lichen on a granite block.
When it’s wet, the lichen seems to glow.

Here, it is glowing in the evening sun.
You can see the dead trees in behind the granite blocks.

We watched the sun go down (in fact, we were there very early and enjoyed the warmth of the sun reflecting from the granite bolders. When the sun went down, it became chilly.), finished our pack of Merlot...

... and returned to the refuge with its bunk beds and wash basin with running cold water from the tap. No showers. So what.

On we went after breakfast, through forest areas that seem still intact, over planks that cross hill moores. Ferns to the left and right, and raspberry vines humming with insects.

We discovered this:

What is it? Looks like a gadget with a motion detector (right) and a micro camera surrounded by LED lights. Hm.
Is it used for observation of deer passes? Of the path? For geocaching? I don't know.

Later that afternoon, we put aside our hiking shoes...

...took a long, refreshing shower and went for a stroll in a rather civilized area ;-)

Nice view.
But they closed the cinema :-(

That’s where I have been, from Thursday to Sunday.
Back again.
Relatively recuperated.

Swimming the pond

When I woke up this morning, I had a sore throat. It was just about 04:30, the birds outside had burst into a cacophony of warbling melodies, and my husband was gently snoring.

I couldn’t go to sleep again. I lay there thinking, and somehow, I was so disgustingly sober and devoid of mirth. I couldn’t draw any encouragement out of the birdsong, like I still might have some months before.
Maybe I still lacked sleep. But it was impossible to drift off again.

Lately, I realized that I lived a lot of my life thus far like diving under the surface of a pond. Going up and down, back and forth. I can see what’s outside the water, but sometimes – often – it is blurred.
Rather seldom, I get a clear view, as if I was able to remove the water from my eyes and have a look. I’ve got to be calm to do that. I need to feel that I’m not pressed from any side or person, to do that. I have to be on my own to do that, to feel real. I have to clear my mind. Any distraction just dunks me back into the water.
Not feeling real is unsettling.
It’s like I’m living someone else’s life. I forgot thinking about my own dreams. And now, they seem so far away, almost out of reach.
Swimming in my pool seemed so safe, so comfortable. It was a delusion. A self-delusion I accepted because I couldn't get what I was dreaming of, because I was incapable of changing my situation, because I was afraid to get hurt. I didn’t realize that we all get hurt, sometimes...

I guess I will have to pull myself out of the water, onto dry land.
I will eventually have to learn to breathe the fresh air.
I came to realize that there is a whole world unfolding, outside my pond.