Day 3 of my Eifelsteig Saga
When I started day 3, I was still tired – so very tired. I found the trail easy enough, but it immediately started to climb. I’m pretty sure that I sighed a very defeated sounding, “Oh no…”. When I crested that first hill however, I was quickly rewarded with a beautiful view of the town below. The trail leveled out, the sun was shining brightly, a soft breeze was blowing, – it was so idyllic that I almost burst out into song – almost. Singing or not, I felt completely reenergized.
Two miles in and I was communing with the cows and jumping across streams. Ok, so it was more like splashing across than jumping – I swear that pack was even heavier – but in my head, I was completely clearing the water. It was wonderful. This is what I came for. Pure Bliss. Well, nature had had enough of that. Another hail storm rolled in and I had to crouch by a tree with my pack protecting my back and taking most of the hits. Too much bliss is boring anyway.
As soon as it passed, I hit an interesting part of the trail. I crossed from Germany into Belgium! I looked to my right and down a little hill, there was a picnic bench by the river. The perfect place to stop for lunch. My shoes and socks were off, my poor feet were in the stream, and coffee was brewing on my stove – all in the first seconds of leaving the trail. I sat so long that my legs and back began to stiffen up, so I grudgingly put on my shoes, put on my enormous pack, and headed back down the trail.
Two things happened simultaneously: a thick icy fog rolled and the trees gave way to 10ft high bushes that lined the trail and formed an impenetrable hedge on both sides. The trail had flattened out and the bushes blocked any views, so it felt as if I was walking in this very long sort of tunnel that went on for miles. I’m not sure if it was my long break, the lack of any kind of scenery, or the exertion of the last 3 days, but I was suddenly exhausted. I still had 4 miles to go that day and I really didn’t think I was going to make it. Every step was a struggle.
Finally, after 4000 hours (probably), I crossed back into Germany and back into the woods. I got lost almost immediately, but I could see a trail marker on the road below me. I decided that the best way to get back on track was to cut through the woods and go down this very steep hill. Well, cool idea – dumb plan. Remember all that rain I’ve walked through? I fell down the hill almost immediately and slid 15 feet on the mud. I grabbed a tree trunk to stop the slide, tried to get up, and promptly fell again. This happened 4 more times. By the time I reached the bottom, I was covered in scratches and bruises and mud. I had branches in my hair, a cut over my right eye, and several pine cones between my pack and my back. I was a vision alright.
Still, no broken bones and I could see my stop for the night in the distance. The village of Monschau is really beautiful and I had planned a night in a wonderful hotel with a bathtub in my room! I could see the white timber-framed buildings, the lovely curving streets, and the meandering river that runs through it but for some reason, the trail was taking me past it. When it started going steeply uphill, I realized why. The wonderful people who created this trail wanted me to enter through the castle on the hill and then travel down the ridiculous number of steps to my destination. That would have been beautifully romantic if I hadn’t just been through such a nightmarish ordeal and was barely able to put one foot in front of the other. I cried. All the way through the castle gates, down the stairs, and on the street to my hotel, I was openly sobbing.
What a picture – giant red pancho, enormous pack, covered in mud and brush, with tears cutting pathways down my cheeks. You’d think people would jump out of my way. Instead, they did the opposite. The first person ran up to me as I entered the castle to help me get to the steps, two more joined to help me down the steps, and two more joined to help me get to my hotel. They were wiping my face, removing the brush, and helping me walk. While I’m usually fiercely independent, I was so grateful. They have no idea how much of a difference they made that day.
When we got to the check-in desk, an elderly man who couldn’t have weighed more than 100 pounds, insisted on carrying my pack to my room. It was up 5 flights of stairs. He was seriously struggling and looked like he was going to have a heart attack, but he wouldn’t let me take it back. His wife treated my cuts, ran the bath, and made sure I was ok before leaving. I’d decided to skip dinner instead of dealing with those stairs again, but they brought dinner and a beer from the restaurant to my room. Their kindness was overwhelming and I slept – really slept – for the first time since I left home. Maybe I could do this after all…
It just gets better and better!