Encounters – Where the Forest Stands on Dunes

This time, we are spending our holiday close to home. No long journey, just days in which we discover places that are actually quite nearby. Sometimes we take a trip to a town, sometimes we look for a hiking route we have never walked before.

A few days ago, I was sitting in front of my computer searching for a new route for us. That was when I came across photos of the Nuremberg Reichswald. We hike a lot in the surrounding area, and yet there always seem to be landscapes we never even knew existed. 

Sand. Pale, fine sand between pine trees. Entire stretches of dunes in the middle of Franconia. 

At first, I could hardly believe what I was seeing. The idea that a place like this was only a little more than an hour’s drive from us, and that I had somehow never heard of it, made me curious. I kept searching and eventually found a hiking route near Altdorf. A little over seven kilometres. Just right for a day trip.

We had a relaxed lunch at home and only set off afterwards. A holiday without stress or pressure. And in case a hike ever takes longer than expected, we now always carry a flashlight in our backpack. We learned that lesson on an earlier hike when we lost our way and suddenly found ourselves standing in the forest after dark.

This time, we deliberately chose the country roads instead of the motorway. The drive took almost twice as long, but the journey itself already became part of this special day.

We passed through small towns and villages, old houses, gardens, fields and quiet roads. Some of these areas were completely new to us, even though they are not far from home at all.

On the motorway, the main thing is usually to arrive. The landscape rushes past, exits become numbers, places become names on signs. On country roads, the journey begins long before you reach your destination.

That day, we once again realised how beautiful it can be simply to take the time.

When we finally reached the Reichswald, reality almost surpassed the photographs.

Pale sand lay between the pine trees. It stretched across the paths, covered the slopes and formed gentle mounds. Lichens in a delicate shade of purple spread across large areas of the dry ground like a soft carpet. From time to time, the forest opened up and revealed stretches of land that could just as easily have been somewhere in the south or along the Baltic Sea.

For a moment, I almost forgot that we were walking through Franconia.

The scent shaped the atmosphere as well. Warm pine needles, dry forest floor and sand blended into a fragrance I usually associate with holidays, coastal landscapes and hot summer days. Even walking felt different. Every step sank in slightly, the sand giving way beneath our shoes. Seven kilometres can feel surprisingly long on ground like that.

And yet this slower pace suited the landscape perfectly.

At some point, we found a beautiful place to stop between the pines and the sand. We spread out our seat cushions, took homemade plum cake and black tea from our backpack and sat down. With our feet in the warm sand and the sun on our faces, we simply sat there, drank our tea, ate cake and absorbed the landscape around us. For a while, we had no desire to move on.

What now looks like a whim of nature reaches far back into the past. During the last Ice Age, dense forest covered very little of this region. Wind swept across open land, picked up loose sand and carried it onwards. Where the wind lost strength, the sand settled. Over long periods of time, the wind shaped it into dunes. As the climate grew warmer, plants and forests spread. Their roots held the sand in place and brought the dunes to rest.

Today, pine trees grow on these ancient dunes.

Perhaps it was exactly this contrast that fascinated me so much. Beneath a forest that appears quiet and permanent lies a landscape shaped by the wind thousands of years ago.

What rests today was once in motion.

As we walked through the sand, I found myself thinking of Goethe:

“Must you always wander farther?
Look, the good is so near.”

The words had rarely seemed so fitting to me.

We often associate holidays with distance. With long journeys, foreign countries and the idea that we have to travel far away before something special can begin. And yet this day took us into a landscape that lies almost on our doorstep.

Perhaps there is another kind of travelling in that. Not trying to go as far away as possible, but moving more slowly. Looking at what seems familiar with fresh curiosity. Driving through places that normally disappear to the left and right of the motorway. Taking turnings we have ignored before. Searching the map for regions whose names we barely know.

And allowing ourselves to be surprised by what lies closer than we think.

Just seven kilometres through the Reichswald.

And yet, for a few hours, they felt like a small journey into another world.

B.