Many years ago my husband and I travelled with close friends to a ski village in Austria just after Christmas. It was a delightful vacation that I will always cherish. We stayed in the small town of Soll in a lovely inn with panoramic views of the mountains where skiers travelled up and down the slopes. The whole place literally looked like a scene on a Christmas card and the people and the food were outstanding in every possible way.
We visited other nearby towns like Salzburg and Innsbruck both of which were incredibly interesting but I would have been content just lingering in Soll. As a matter o fact one of the friends who waw with us mostly did that. He was born and raised in Austria and donned his first set of skis when he was only three years old. He spent most of his days on the slopes having the time of his life while we set out to enjoy the nearby sites.
One morning we decided to travel to Berchdesgaden in southern Germany while the skier stayed back to rest his back that had begun to give him a bit of trouble. His wife had lived her life in Houston, Texas and she and I had known each other since second grade. We were in good hands with her because her mother was originally from Austria and she was quite proficient in German. Besides, she had travelled to the area many times so she knew the ins and outs of getting around.
We piled into our rented car and headed to the small town in Bavaria made famous as the site of the Eagles Nest where Adolf Hitler once entertained his friends and confidantes. From the center of town we saw the place atop a six thousand foot mountain. On that day it was eerily circled by dark clouds that seemed to warn us that bad weather or a bad omen was on its way.
We were not able to get a ticket to go to the top but we did manage to find a boat ride that got us as close as we might be without actually going higher. The weather was bitterly cold and somehow the whole place had a haunting feeling that I could not shake. I did not mention my skittishness to anyone but I felt as though I wanted to leave the whole time that I was there. Somehow the spirit of evil that was often discussed there by Hitler and his crew felt almost palatable. I didn’t even want a souvenir from there. That alone was strange because I rarely visit a new locale without bringing back a bobble for my Christmas tree.
It was beginning to get dark as our boat ride concluded. We were a bit hungry but only able to find a McDonald’s to purchase our dinner which we ate on the road back to Soll. All of us were oddly quiet as though the whole place had somehow been tainted by Hitler in the long ago.
The farther away from the town we got, the more lively our conversations became. We were driving on a mountainous road when the snow began to fall so rapidly that my husband who was driving was barely able to see what was in front of him. Then the car began slipping all over the slick icy trail that we were following. My husband found a place to park and attempted to secure the snow chains on the wheels of the car. He is generally quite advanced in his mechanical abilities but growing up in Houston, Texas had left him without knowledge of how to deal with snowy weather. Try as he may he was unable to attach to snow chains and suddenly we all went into a kind of panic hoping that maybe someone would stop to assist us. Sadly the cars only buzzed by hardly noticing that we were there.
My friend saw a farmhouse across the road and decided to head there to beg for help. With her fluent Germans he was able to explain our dilemma and soon a young man walked with her to the car. He took only a few minutes to get the chains secured and we were once again on our way. My husband nonetheless drove as slowly as possible stiffened with anxiety as the snow turned into a blizzard.
After what felt like an eternity we got back to the town of Soll and drew a breath of relief as we parked at the inn where we were staying. The next morning we learned that the weather was so bad that the highway along which we had traveled was closed to all vehicles shortly after we finally got back on our way. There were reports of wrecks and stranded people that made us feel grateful that we had returned in one piece.
The two men took the rental car to assess what we might need if the bad weather continued. There they learned that we had mistakenly been given a car that was not outfitted with winter tires. The people at the rental place were amazed that we got as far as we did given the circumstances. They quickly gave us a properly equipped car and we enjoyed the rest of our trip.
I nonetheless felt somehow haunted by seeing the Eagle’s Nest. My discomfort in viewing it never really went away. I equated it with so much evil that I did not see it as simply a tourist destination nor did I need to hear the history that I already knew. When I heard that it burned down a week ago I somehow felt a sigh of relief. Somehow it did not seem right to be earning a profit from showing such an horrific place. While I do not condone someone maliciously burning it down I find myself glad that it is gone. I do believe that there are places so vile that being near them is uncomfortable. Somehow the spirits of horror that happened in them never truly goes away. So it was with the Eagles Nest which sadly might have been a place of comfort and happiness if it had not been the domain of a truly wicked man. I understood why the townspeople originally wanted to tear it down. In my mind it became a haunted shrine to the one of the most horrific moments in the history of mankind.
