GR5 - Day 33 - To the castle

17.5 / Day 33

My parents left today, over up North, through Nancy and away. Marion B is arriving in Barr to walk with me through the high Vosges. The sun is high and hot, it might be our last day of good weather. Storms gather over France, snow is falling in the Alps.

Today starts with a very soft hour walking through the vineyards to Andlau. We stop for hot drinks in this last village before tomorrow. Then it's up through the forest for about three hours, past wooden sculptures like faces on trees, past the cabin where Yves had told me of the forest area he cares for. 200m to 600m, that's the closed Gruckert hut; 600 to 900, that's the Ungersberg summit. In one long climb from the valley floor; in the days ahead this'll seem just a little slope, compared to what's coming.

MB is coming straight from civilization and brought lentil cucumber and tofu salad, immensely welcome. There's a stone tower up there but mist all over the valley, no views. I lie down for a micronap, scarf draped over my face against the midges and assorted bugs.

We start again around 2.30pm and I'm unnacountably exhausted. Might be the emotional weight of walking off again after a family break; might be a poor night's sleep; might be the weather, hanging low and humid, flat grey skies; cloud cover like a duvet and that duvet calls for sleep.

Then it's downhill again and Marion, who bounds with energy on the climb, borrows the poles to assist on the descent. I'm in a downhill-trance, broken with a very interesting meeting. We call for water by a distinguished couple in a huge ramshackle house; it turns out they are / have been platewindow makers for churches and the like. They take us through a maze of cramped working spaces filled with rolled up drawings, wood shavings, buckets and the color spots of beautiful painted glass compositions set before the windows. In the workshop, he explains how  they were hired to renew the plateglass in the Strasbourg cathedral, she shows the drawings, the rubbings, the pictures. There is no more work now, no demand. Their sons are in the same line or work, and lso out of a job. On this strange note we leave them, to keep hiking. 

At around five thirty, we arrive at the ruins of Bernstein Castle, on the hills above Chatenois. Beautifully restored - as ruins. The stone is perfectly kept and so are the cracks, the holes and whatever still stands (towers, windows, walls and arches). Quiet, luminous place.

Clearly people sleep here often. It's friday night so it's always possible there'll be groups coming up; on the other hand, there is rain in the immediate forecast and we're tired from today's 23k. We eat a bite and decide to settle here, in the castle court under the awning; we'll move if needed, if not, it's a great place to camp.

From the top of the tower, the view carries forever over the Rhine plain, to the Schwarzwald and the Alps. The sun sets slowly, the castle glows.

We get two unexpected visits: the first from a group of trainee firemen practicing safe manoeuvres in the ruins; the second from Marie the mouse, who comes out to look for scraps between our feet. We put our food away carefully and leave her nuts as an offering of peace.

And then it's night.