18th October 2020
The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Robert Burns*
Those who know me well, know that planning is not necessarily my strong suit, and flying by the seat of my pants is more my style (OK, enough clichés). Sunday was forcasted to be dry and sunny with a comfortable temperature for hiking. So, I decided I would try a longer hike and perhaps an easier, less hilly route than the previous one. While researching a starting point I realized that this particular leg of Jakobsweg actually started in Bregenz, not Rorschach. It seems that people arriving from Munich went around Lake Constance, rather than across it.
I decided, because my brain cannot take doing things out of order, that Bregenz had to be my next starting point, and was delighted to learn that the trail started very close to the train station, meaning I would not have to search for my starting point. The trail was described as being ‘flat as a pan’, which it was. What it wasn’t was ‘as straight as an arrow’ (last cliché today, I promise) and at one point actually led me in a giant U-shape, which we will discuss in a bit.
Given that the walk was going to take about 7 hours, my original plan was to catch the 9.25 train to arrive in Bregenz at 10.10; however, I overslept so that schedule was bumped back an hour as there is only one train an hour from St Margreten to Bregenz on a Sunday. So, I was a little annoyed with myself because it was going to make doddling impossible otherwise I would run out of light before I got to Rorschach.
This time around I knew that I needed to head towards the lake and then back the way the train travelled. Much to my delight, the shells appeared on the wonderweg signs right away. I took a few minutes to enjoy the square with the outdoor theatre and dream about seeing an opera there next summer (Rigoletto, Verdi) and just savour the moment.
Not too far away I came across the first church of the day, the Mehrerau Abbey. The original baraque basilica at this location was concencrated in 1125 and completed in 1730 only to be destroyed in 1809 after “the abolition of the Benedictine monastery Mehrerau”1. This abbey was then built on its foundation from 1856 to 59 and rebuilt from 1961 to 64. This is when the concrete monument was added to the entrance. There are several valuable pieces of art in this abbey which link back to the Benedictine Mehrerau.
Of course, once I have located a church, I must try to enter it. They are works of art and part of our history, no matter how often they change hands. So, after admiring the exterior, in I went. Thankfully the entrance doors were automatic so the only noise that interupted the monks prayers was the echoing sounds of my backpack contents rattling around. Trying to sit down and be quiet did not help either as the plastic boxes of food knocked together and against the wooden bench. I froze and stayed that way whilst they finished their ceremony and left the chapel. Yes, I sent an apology, but in my defense, there was no sign on the door saying that there was a service of any type in progress. The interior was a stunning juxtaposition of simplicity and complexity.
The two most amazing pieces were the concrete sculpture at the entrance, 1962, and the alter of Madonna with Christ Child, circa 1500.
From here the trail was fairly easy to follow, although it really seemed to wind around in a few places, thankfully it was flat, or my patience at being lead around in semi-cirlces may have worn thin a whole lot sooner. At one point I walked along a river for a bit and crossed over it on a rather long bridge. Diligently following the signs, I walked through a restaurant compound and then off behind it, back towards the river. I could hear the water rushing and realized that I had walked in a huge U to the rapids I had seen from the bridge. As it was early in the walk, I found it entertaining, but the novelty wore off over time.
The next few kilometres were uneventful, but beautiful. Walking through the countryside was glorious and quiet, although toilets and water seemed to be inaccessible. I finally broke down and found some trees to hide in, but it was still a good while before I found the courage to approach houses to ask for water. So it was over empty fields, past pungent farms, along rural roads and eventually back to a river. The covered bridge is where I believe things really started to go wrong.
I approached a busy road with a covered bridge on it and the shell seemed to be pointing across the river, the only way to do this was to walk through the covered bridge. As there was no sidewalk in there, I suspected that something was amiss, but I could see many more wanderweg signs on the other side, so I waited for a few moments for the traffic to clear and then entered the bridge and got across as quickly as I could. The moving boards and noise were added incentives to scurry through. On the other side, things were no clearer, but the traffic was certainly heavier.
I wandered around a bit, I found shells on signs and had to make a decision about which one to follow. I chose to walk along the river, but after about 20 minutes of seeing no signs at all, let alone shells, I decided it was time to stop and have lunch. I found a staircase to sit on near the path so that I could nab an unsuspecting person and get their help with directions. Thankfully the first couple who I stopped where lovely and accommodating and told me, surprisingly, that I should have continued along the river rather than going through the covered bridge. They said I was on the wrong side of the river, which was why I had no signs. The man gave me excellent directions to follow and I was prepared to get on my way again, after lunch.
I had packed a lot of food for a couple of reasons, it was a Sunday, so I was not sure what would be open, and because I was trying to eat really healthy food on my hikes. The spice mixture I used in the hummus is from a company near St Gallen where the owner makes the most amazing blends of teas and spices. I dithered a bit in this location because I was just so happy to be sitting down, but common sense eventually prevailed and I got myself moving again.
I walked along the river to the point where the man told me I should have crossed, and there were my shells, I was back to feeling very accomplished. Along I went by the river, past more pungent farms and into the countryside in my search for the Swiss Border. I came to another bridge and noticed a sign to Rosenburg Kappele pointing in the direction I was travelling, but away from Jakobsweg, of course, I had to take it. Sadly, the chapel was locked, but it was a sweet little church with benches out front. One bench was occupied by a man eating McDonald’s. I got the feeling he was hiding from his significant other as he had riden his bike to a rather remote destination to indulge.
After exploring this church from all angles outside, I tried to enter it, which obviously was not possible. This was disappointing, but understandable as it was rather isolated. I headed back the way I came and headed towards Switzerland again. It wasn’t long before I came across another church, this time just before the border, so I took another detour, thankfully this one was really close the the trail as well.
From here, I finally crossed over into Switzerland and the realization that I had definitely taken a wrong turn somewhere came crashing in. I crossed into Widnau, and it was clear that I had not crossed the border in the right place, and I got turned around so I continued on my merry way in the wrong direction. I won’t say lost, because that is such a judgy word, and I had a vague idea where I was. However, at this point, I was literally just looking for a town name that I could recognize so that I could get on a train and go home. Thankfully, life is very random and a few weeks ago, I was in this area dancing. As a result, once I saw the sign pointing to Au, I knew I could find a train station. It took another six kilometres, but I made it with 2 minutes to spare. I got myself back to St Gallen and after eating the rest of the food in my bag, I showered and slept for many hours.
Watch this space for notes about the second attempt, which willl happen as soon as I can organize it.
*Adapted from Robert Burns To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest With the Plough, November, 1785
1 https://www.mehrerau.at/de/klosterkirche
2 https://www.focusana.com/store/product/focusana-gold-bild-rechts
Roaming with Raquel 