Malerweg

The local tourist board markets this part of Germany as “Saxon Switzerland” (“Sächsische Schweiz”). It’s like Switzerland to the same extent that Crawley is like Prague. But it does have a unique landscape of towering sandstone bluffs and crags and is popular with walkers and rock climbers as well as the German romantic artists who allegedly walked through the region with their easels, palettes and brushes.

The 112km Malerweg claims to be “the most scenic and loved walking path in Germany”. The ‘official’ version follows a roughly circular route starting at Liebethal, north of Pirna, heading generally south-east and keeping mostly away from the Elbe until it crosses the river near Schmilka and heads back downstream to finish at Pirna (see map). The path can be steep where it climbs up and down the various sandstone outcrops but steps or even iron staircases have been installed to make the going easier.

Weinwanderweg

The Sächsische Weinwanderweg was devised in the late 1990s but not officially opened until 2006. Like all such routes it was intended to encourage tourism and publicise the region’s wines. The trouble is that although wine has been produced in the area for at least 450 years many of the vineyards have been lost to expansion of the towns and villages along the river Elbe. Instead of taking walkers through vineyards the route mostly takes them through suburbs. On tarmac roads. “Here on the left”, says the guidebook, “is a fine house that once belonged to a renowned winemaker”. Further along, “The houses on the right are on the site of a vineyard which ceased production in 1934”.

So we found ourselves following roads and from time to time turning uphill, walking along a higher parallel road or track and then returning downhill to the road we had left half a mile earlier. We had walked round a vineyard which no longer existed. ‘Up-along-down’ became a familiar pattern.

25 May

This third day was the least enjoyable of the holiday, for me at least. It was rather warm and we spent virtually the whole day walking through suburbs on tarmac roads, first through the outskirts of Pirna then working our way through a succession of nondescript settlements before reaching Pillnitz and on to Dresden. It was our first day on the Weinwanderweg with its waymarks of a little bunch of pinkish-purple grapes, and it was a big disappointment. There’s more about it here.

We left Pirna, crossing the Elbe on a bridge instead of a ferry. After about an hour the tarmac disappeared while we walked on a dusty unmade road alongside a large site processing building and demolition rubble. Then back on tarmac. It wasn’t until we were beginning to think of lunch that we found ourselves in open country, and we climbed a small hillside through woods to find ourselves on a terrace path above – yes! – vineyards!

We ate our lunch before the path took us back down through the vineyard and into the outskirts of Pillnitz, our sightseeing destination of the day. Schloss Pillnitz is a small palace or large stately home built on the banks of the Elbe by Augustus II (Augustus the Strong), Elector of Saxony, for one of his fourteen mistresses. Its style is a Chinese-influenced version of German baroque and it is set in gardens, formal and informal. We spent nearly an hour wandering round, with John taking the opportunity to explain how the Schloss’ gardeners could do a lot better if they took some lessons on garden design – especially topiary – from the English.

Schloss Pillnitz

Schloss Pillnitz

The day was getting on by the time Clive and Tom had finished their ice creams and we were ready for the last leg. The Weinwanderweg tried to avoid the main road into Dresden by taking to the slopes above from time to time. One such diversion took us along the Königsweg, originally created by Augustus as a scenic drive through his vineyards. For the second time that day Clive’s guidebook confused ‘up’ with ‘down’ and ‘right’ with ‘left’ and despite growing misgivings from the rest of us we walked uphill through more suburbs for a hot mile and a half only to decide we had to turn round and go back down without the normal ‘along’ bit. A close-up view of Dresden’s television tower didn’t compensate for the wasted effort. Mutinous voices grumbled about the Grand Old Duke of York but Clive pretended not to hear.

By now John and I had had enough and decided to stay on the main road. The others, ruled by the book, dutifully headed uphill one more time. We met as agreed at a road junction at the end of a bridge known locally as the Blaues Wunder Brücke (Blue Wonder Bridge), so called after the blueish steel with which it’s built.

The final few miles along the cycle path close to the river seemed interminable. Hot, tired, sweaty and with the late afternoon sun full in our faces we made the best time we could along the track, sometimes paved, sometimes tarmac. A distant bridge which we initially thought might mark a point near our hotel where we could break off came and went – it was a new bridge still under construction, too new to be shown on our maps. Even the hotel, when we finally arrived, looked depressing – a rather ugly building fronting onto a main road. I’m glad to say that the first impression was misleading. Once inside it was cool and welcoming, and our rooms were comfortable and well-equipped.

We spent the next day in Dresden.

Dresden, 26 May

I didn’t enjoy Dresden. The five of us went out separately: it’s probably my fault for not doing my research beforehand but I found the concentration of German baroque buildings in the old city – reconstructed after the WW2 bombing – overwhelming and confusing. Add in the crowds of tourists milling around in coach-load sized groups and a general lack of anywhere civilised to sit for a coffee and a break and I was left feeling decidedly out of place. I went into the Frauenkirche but didn’t find it very interesting. I couldn’t face joining the crowds looking round the other sights and museums so I took a break in the quiet of the modern art museum.

Looking for somwehere to have lunch I went into the modern shopping area but the only choices were chain outlets. In the end I broke my own rules and went to a bar/restaurant in the main tourist street where my lunch was as poor as I feared, including half-cooked sausages. I couldn’t be bothered to complain. By mid-afternoon I was back in our hotel.

Comparing notes that evening, Clive had been in his element visiting most of the museums. John’s day had been a bit like mine, and Stuart and Tom had both opted fairly quickly to spend the best part of the day out of the city.