The Eifelsteig Saga – Part One

When I was young, I loved backpacking. I was sure that I was going to be a “Professional Backpacker” when I grew up – whatever that means. Of course, that’s not how it turned out. I married someone who hates the outdoors, had a family, got a “real” job, and just forgot all about my adventurous side for a while.

After my youngest went off to college, however, my husband and I moved to Germany. I wasn’t allowed to work on our Visa, so I had to figure out something to do. Backpacking! Germany has trails everywhere, so I started making plans. Of course, I didn’t speak the language yet, I didn’t know the local hiking rules and customs, and all the gear had changed considerably during my 20-year break, but I wasn’t going to let those minor inconveniences stop me. I was going backpacking!

I picked a trail called the Eifelsteig – a 15 step (15 day) trail not too far from our house. I reserved my camping spots for the first few days, spent way too much on gear, and had my husband drop me off. It was pouring down rain, my pack weighed 70 pounds, I was wearing brand spanking new hiking boots, and my guidebook was all in German (that I couldn’t read), but I practically ran down the trail. I was backpacking again! I was literally skipping for joy. Okay, so I only skipped maybe once or twice. My pack was so heavy… Anyway, I was off!

After several hours, I looked down and noticed that the trail had widened – like really widened. Some might even call it a road now. It wasn’t paved, but it was hard-packed gravel. “Huh, that’s weird.” Several minutes later, I heard someone speaking loudly over a public-address system and an audience…clapping? “Really weird.” So, of course I just kept going. I stuck my nose in my guidebook as I walked, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Maybe I should’ve learned at least a little German before I left?

It was the audience’s collective gasp that finally stopped me up short and made me look up. I was standing in the ring of a horse show. A horse show where people on horses were jumping and walking and running. And there I was – in my bright red rain poncho with a giant backpack on my back – right in the middle. 

“Ugh – American!” I heard her huff loudly as she quickly ran to where I stood and gestured for me to follow. I was practically running to catch up to her as she returned up the road I had just come down. After about 10 minutes, she stopped and pointed to a sign nestled in the trees that said, “Eifelsteig ->”. As I was looking up the German words to apologize and thank her, she turned on her heel and ran back up the road. Ugh is right. Positive that my face was as red as my poncho.

I continued on my way and made it to my first stop for the night – soaking wet and exhausted. Was I also still humiliated? Absolutely. But was I ready to quit and admit defeat? No way. Despite all of the bad stuff, I was back on the trail. I felt really alive again. I was in this until the end. Besides, I’d already experienced the worst that could happen, right? Right??