Rhine Getaway Day 7

Day seven was the last full day of touring and perhaps the most emotionally and spiritually moving day of the trip.  We docked in Breisach, Germany, in the early morning, disembarked and boarded buses.  I should note here that the tour buses were brand new, comfortable and fully appointed Mercedes top of the line.  Our bus excursions were very pleasant.  We rode for about 40 minutes through beautiful countryside and charming towns into the Black Forest of Germany.  This is the land of so many legends.  It was obvious to us why this lovely area was beloved by Wayne's parents.  The vegetation is so thick that the woods do, indeed, appear black, even in full sunlight.  The farms were neat and well groomed with tall stacks of perfectly cut stove and firewood.  The woods surrounding the farms were cleared of brush and downed trees, which were the source of the firewood.  We were impressed at how well managed the countryside is.  There seemed the perfect balance and coexistence of man and nature, conservation of resources, preservation of beauty and wildlife, and prevention of deadly forest fires by keeping the ground clear of dry brush and dead trees.  This system has obviously worked for centuries, and the beauty is unsurpassed.  Leave it to the Germans to properly engineer all of this.  Seeing their tidy and practical stewardship of natural resources and their care of their homes and farms made us proud of our heritage.  I couldn't resist pointing out to Wayne that in spite his German war bride mother, there is more German blood in my veins than is his.

Our first stop in the Black Forest was much too short.  We visited the tiny town of St. Peters.  It is home to a monastery and cathedral.  Monks no longer live here, but it was interesting to me to imagine them living there in a former day, studying, worshiping,  farming, and most importantly, copying scripture.  The best part of the visit was seeing the cathedral.  On the outside, it looked quite ordinary, and we wondered why it was selected as a site seeing stop.  As soon as we entered, we knew why.  This astonishing edifice is an incredibly beautiful example of a Baroque cathedral.  It is full of light, so unlike its Gothic predecessors.  The combination of light, gold, tall open spaces, beautiful frescoes, ornate altars and organ pipes, statues, and windows, were more than we could take in during our short twenty minute visit.  It would have been much better if we could have spent an hour or two in this glorious spot.  Even better would have been the opportunity to hear a Bach prelude and fugue played on the organ.  The combination of sight and sound would have felt like a bit of heaven on earth.

We were quickly hurried away to board the buses for another stop in the Black Forest.  This time it was a more disappointing tourist trap.  We saw hundreds of cuckoo clocks, and it was interesting to see a brief demonstration on their construction.  The many varieties were interesting to see.  While Wayne took a short hike in the woods, I shopped for a couple of Christmas ornaments and German music CD's.  I tried to attend a baker's demonstration on Black Forest cake.  It was a disappointing scene of American tourists chowing down the gooey confection while a rather surly culinary school intern type of young adult hurriedly assembled a cake for our edification and entertainment.  I picked up a copy of his recipe and left wishing we were back in the St. Peters cathedral.  I realize that group tours need to cater to all interests, but this one wasn't ours.  So, no, I did not eat Black Forest cake in the Black Forest.  I might have tried it, but in its authentic style, it contains plenty of alcohol, which I don't eat or drink.

We returned to our ship for a quick lunch and then departed for an optional Word War II tour into the Colmar Pocket of France.  This area was fought over extensively, and it was the site of heroism for many great Americans including the celebrated and decorated Audie Murphy, and the much lesser known but beloved to this family, Thomas B. Abernathy, Jr., Wayne's father.  As I've mentioned in an earlier post, it was amazing to us to witness the scope of damage and human suffering that were caused by the war.  We drove through villages that had been entirely destroyed except for one small statue or one wall of a building left standing.  While rebuilt to look like the originals, these towns still inspire both horror and reverence.  There are many markers and memorials erected in gratitude to the American soldiers who sacrificed to liberate these towns.  We saw remains of bunkers, now 70 years old, and even a portion of the famous Maginot Line.

One of the stops on this tour was in the French town of Turckheim, which housed a small museum dedicated to the area known as the Colmar Pocket.  There were many artifacts and displays from the war.  The area may be best known for its American hero, Audie Murphy.  As a young 19 year old, he made a one man stand against of group of German soldiers and tanks that was influential in the eventual Allied victory.  We had seen the movie "To Hell and Back" about Audie Murphy and had also visited his grave in Arlington Cemetery.  Recently, the exact area of his one man stand has been identified, and the French have erected a small monument to Audie.  We walked into the woods and saw the monument.  We felt the reverence and respect for this very young American hero.  I could not help but think that we have a son nearly this same age.  I am so very grateful that he is able to spend his nineteenth year as a peaceful messenger of the gospel of Christ in Brazil.

After a long, but meaningful day, we drove through the French countryside and took in as much scenery and history as we could.  When it was time to meet our ship, we discovered that it had been delayed in a lock and had not yet reached our meeting point.  After a short wait along the river, we were happily reunited and enjoyed a final captain's dinner before packing our bags for our trip home the next day.

Wayne and I standing at the Audie Murphy Memorial near Ostheim, France.