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Journal: |
I stayed up late wrestling with the hotel's wi-fi and didn't get
down to breakfast until 8:15am and left the hotel an hour later.
Close to the hotel was a large mall and I walked through it to pick
up some rolls for lunch. On exiting the mall by a back
entrance, I walked south for a 100 metres or so along a lane and
suddenly suspected I had crossed into Switzerland. Sure
enough, a few minutes later I emerged on a main road and, looking
back towards Konstanz, there was a manned border crossing. Not
quite Checkpoint Charlie (which I was turned back from twice many
years ago).
The town on the Swiss side of the border is
Kreuzlingen and I walked south along its main street, stopping at an
ATM to get some Swiss Francs. Conveniently, if you ignore the
fact I was probably getting ripped off on the exchange rate, I
pretty much got one Swiss Franc for one Aussie Dollar. It was
spitting with rain and I turned my mind to my next task which was
finding Jakobsweg, the pilgrim trail which I would be following for
the next four days. The whole of Jakobsweg runs from
Kreuzlingen to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, about 2500km away.
The map I was using has a scale of 1:75000 which is OK for following
a trail once you are on it, but not a lot of help if you are not,
especially since I had discovered that Jakobsweg was not
specifically marked and that some of other map labelling was clearly
wrong. I did my best to find the start, but somehow deviated
too far to the left and realised, by about 10:30am, that I wasn't
where I needed to be. Rather than try and retrace my steps, I
took a punt on where I was and gradually worked my way to the right
along any significant forest or farm trails that looked like they
were going in the right direction.
My instincts turned out to
be OK and I eventually reached a sign around noon that confirmed I
was on Jakobsweg. My guess is that I walked about 4km further
than was needed. The countryside was mainly rural, devoted to
crops or grazing and quite open, making it a little dreary on such a
grey day. Jakobsweg then followed some minor rural roads which
were a bit tedious and hard on the feet. Farmers were working
hard and, for the balance of the day, I had to watch out for
speeding tractors and other farm machinery and be ready to jump off
the narrow roads and lanes.
After lunch in a pleasant little
forest glen, the trail spent more time on gravel and earth tracks as
it climbed to higher ground and passed through some small hamlets
and rural landscapes, with the inevitable tinkling of cow bells.
Provision was made for pilgrims by local residents in some places
with benches, shelters, and drinking water taps. As I passed
near the village of Marstetten, a young woman on a bike going the
other way stopped me and asked me in English where I was going.
I told her I was following Jakobsweg and planned to continue walking
for about another three hours today. She handed me a small
leaflet advertising accommodation for pilgrims at her parents' house
and told me it was near the trail about three hours walk further on
and that if I called them, they would pick me up. The leaflet
came with a map and I worked out that it was a little past the
village where I hoped to find a hotel. I decided that it would
be a good option unless I saw anything more appealing.
The
next three hours walking continued, often in light drizzle, to
follow roads and farm tracks through farmland and over some low
hills offering vistas of Swiss farming country dotted with small
villages. I passed through the villages of Affeltrangen and
Tobel without seeing any accommodation and was happy to follow the
map to the accommodation I had been offered in the village of
Tagerschen. After knocking on the door, I was greeted like a
long lost friend by Dorli, whose daughter had phoned ahead and
warned about an approaching Australian. I was was shown where
everything was and had a shower before meeting Dorli's husband,
Fredi, and enjoying some afternoon tea during which, with my limited
German and their limited English, we had a friendly, and at times
hilarious, conversation punctuated with charades as we asked and
answered questions. I was shown through their guest book which
had notes and photographs of the many pilgrims who had stayed in the
two years they have offered accommodation. Dorli prepared some
dinner and later their daughter, Andrea, dropped by for some more
conversation. I was made to feel very much at home, including
being given access to their wi-fi, and had a very pleasant evening.
Fredi thinks the snow will be too deep once I get back on the Via
Alpina, which is a bit worrying.
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