I'm going to leave you here, try to get down to the sea somehow

"Once more. Say you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent-minded of men beplunged in his deepest reveries--stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever." -Moby Dick by Herman Meville

"I'm going to leave you here, try to get down to the sea somehow, rock me on the water, sister will you soothe my fevered brow?" -Rock Me on the Water, Jackson Browne

Yesterday (Saturday), I needed to get out of the city for a while. On our trip to Murnau, our trip leader mentioned Lake Starnberg was a lovely place to visit as train passed, our jaws gaping at the huge lake crashing into the mountains. Later, I put two and two together and realized this was the lake which took King Ludwig II's life in his murky, mysterious, and untimely end. It was high time to visit. Saturday morning, I woke up to a gorgeous, sunny, clear day. I took the U-6 down to Marienplatz, paid my 5 euros for the train ride out to the 4th arena, and hopped on the S6 to Tutzing. I was lucky enough to score a booth to myself, and journaled and looked out the window. Across the aisle, another lucky guy had the 4 seats to himself, was leaning back, foot propped up on the opposite seat, his iPod in his hand, looking out the window. I saw how comfortable and blissed-out he was in his own little world, and imitated him, with a journal for an iPod and a pen for my earbuds.

The train ride from Marienplatz to Starnberg is only about 30 minutes--a good travel time. I got off at Starnberg to see a line for the boat ride--not exactly what I wanted at the moment. I left the city to get away from the maddening crowds, not to queue up with them. I glanced at the map, saw that Berg (where the Votivkappelle, Votive Chapel, to Ludwig II is) was to the left about an hour to an hour and half's walk, and started off in that direction. I had to walk through part of the town of Starnberg (or the remants of it, toward the lake), where the lakefront was private property for about 15 minutes, and then got, at last, toward the public lakefront. It was gorgeous--a path separated lawns covered with wildflowers from the rocky beach on the lakefront. People were tanning, unpacking their picnics, and just basking in the glow of the sun and the postcard-perfect views out toward the mountains.

I stopped for refreshment at a little kneipe and had an Eisschokolate (ice chocolate) and a cake, and just reveled in the moment. After that little break, I thought I had enough energy to set off. I walked and walked and walked. I took another journaling break on a shady, wildflower-covered grassy knoll across from the path, not 15 feet from the water. I seriously felt like that meadow scene from Twilight (filmed on the golf course at Griffin Park in Los Angeles), where Bella and Edward lie in the wildflower-covered grass and look at each other, and the crane spirals the camera up--it's one of my favorite scenes in the movie. I wrote out the entire song of Jackson Browne's "Rock Me on the Water" out in my journal, since it seemed to fit my mood exactly.

I kept on walking and walking and walking, passing a lot of cyclists, going through little woodsey areas, just following the water around, thinking, ruminating on the beauty around me. After a while, I came to the town of Berg where the path continued out toward a street in the township itself, and continued to follow the signs to the chapel. And kept following--and kept following. I entered this wood out of a fairy tale. The most recent fairy-tale like book I've read was The Book of Lost Things, and I began to feel like the boy who has unknowingly stumbled into a world he thought belonged only in his imagination. The odd cyclist came down the path, or the hiking family, but there were several moments when it was me and the woods. And that was wonderful. I was reminded of Muir Woods--the tall trees scraping the sky, again, surrounding me. Only the blue coolness in the air hinted at the presence of a lake not far off.

The path diverged several times, forking off in a Robert Frost sort of way, but this time, I took the path well-travelled by, since my destination was a well-travelled one. I thought about the irony of this choice in the Frostian context. Finally, I saw this sight emerging into the trees, like a castle. But it was the Votive Chapel. Some cyclists were hitching their bikes down the stairs toward the chapel, and I followed them down the path. Just in front of the Votive Chapel is the cross, erected by Ludwig's mother, in the shallow end of the water, marking where they found Ludwig's body. The chapel was QUITE beautiful, especially for something so out of the way. It was very reminescent of Neuschwanstein, and I shook my head and tsked, "Ludwig, Ludwig, Ludwig." It's curious how everything to do with King Ludwig is so far out of the way from everything. He even died in an obscure place, and not intentionally! I'm not sure what the cause-and-effect of this is, but this is Europe, and every township certainly dates before King Ludwig II. He was really into the isolation of the forest medieval.

After I saw my sights, I returned through the woods, not really wanting to leave. I had a Coke at the Cafe Schloss Berg overlooking the water, and judged myself hydrated enough to make the hike back. By this time (around 4ish), a lot more people had set up beach spots. A dad was helping his pre-teen son surf on that boat thingy, little girls were splashing in the water. . . . idyllic.

(Editing note: I'm having some issues with the format of this post. I apologize for any difficulty in its readability.)