Among Giants: Beer Hiking in Saxon Switzerland

Prelude

I was up at daybreak and on the trail early for this, one of the most fascinating and challenging beer hikes I’ve ever done. I’d arrived in Bad Schandau from Dresden the previous afternoon, spending the rest of that short but sunny November day on a ferry and train to nearby Königstein. There, I hiked up through the woods to the impregnable fortress with a commanding view of the Elbe valley, a nice warmup for the main event ahead of me today.

Back in Bad Schandau I followed up the day’s exercise with a hearty meal of Rinderrouladen (rolled beef) and Bohemian-style bread dumplings at Zum Roten Haus. Speaking of Bohemia, the Czech border lies a mere 7 kilometers to the east, so it wasn’t a surprise to find Czech beer on the menu. The delicious Tmavé (dark lager) from Pivovar Falkenštejn in Krásná Lípa just across the line helped me get a good night’s sleep, visions of fruity coffee and baker’s chocolate dancing with swirls of smoke and blackberry jam on toast in my wee little head.

Of Note

*Disclaimer: Risk is always a factor in hiking, especially when the grades are steep and the drop-offs precipitous. The hike I’m about to describe is, in places, one such hike, and is safe only for the surefooted, and for those not afraid of heights — the latter portion in particular. Avoid the latter portion of this route when the weather’s bad. If you’d like an easier but no less scenic hike, you can walk along the bucolic stretch of the Elbe all the way from Königstein to Schmilka via Bad Schandau, with occasional forays into the hills. See the end of this article for a few more alternatives that get you into the midst of the rock formations without the vertigo-inducing sections.  

*For those who just want the “straight-up goods” on this eerily beautiful hike, skip down to the Addendum section.

A Few Steps Closer

The day dawned dark and overcast, clouds cascading down the hillside pregnant with rain. I bundled up in warm clothes and waterproof gear, strapped on my boots, and threaded my way up the path out of Bad Schandau. For a brief spell as I crested a rise with views of tabletop mountains across the Elbe illuminated by dazzling shafts of sunlight piercing the leaden vault, it seemed like the cloud cover might break open and disperse … .

In the hamlet of Ostrau I got my first glimpse of the Schrammsteine rock formations rising up like a fata morgana at the distant end of emerald fields, impressive even from afar. I roused myself from my transfixed state and skirted a meadow before picking up the Lattengrund-Schrammsteine route. Down it plunged, through dark, boulder-strewn mossy woods and wild gorges to the small ribbon of a road winding its way up from Postelwitz on the Elbe to the Ostrau heights.

After crossing the road a few score meters down the road to Postelwitz, I climbed the steep trail up the other side. The narrow valley constricted even further into a chasm threading its way through boulders stacked as if by giants in a colossal Tetris game.

Through the Mist and Rain

At the top of the dell cut through by the Postelwitz road, I caught my first glimpse of the craggy giants. In an instant they were right in front of me, so close I could literally touch them. And touch them I did, jagged chimneys, towering hoodoos, slender pinnacles shooting skyward through the thickening mist, a scene straight out of a Caspar David Friedrich painting. It started to rain.

I had intended to follow the Malerweg up to the Schrammsteine view point, but by now the rocky path was slippery wet, and the steep ladders didn’t look like the best idea with my eyeglasses now as foggy as the mist shrouding the rock formations.

No worries, I thought: I’ll double back and pick up the trail marked with the horizontal yellow stripe and hike the 2 hours to Schmilka via the Kleiner Dom, thinking that the path would skirt the massif and afford a few sublime views along the way. Simple.

Or not. The views were, indeed, sublime, as was the vertigo.

Contemplating the Absolute

The fog rolled in not on little cat feet but with a silent vengeance, seemingly in league with the driving rain.

And it turned out that the trail didn’t skirt this labyrinth of rock formations — at least not the trail I was on. I found that out when the trail hurtled headlong toward a sheer rock face and then pointed up to the narrowest of paths bordered by a sheer drop. I was now on the other side of the massif from where I had aborted my short-lived hike along the Malerweg — and found myself on the Malerweg again. Malerweg — the Painters’ Trail. Quaint name for this narrow path more suited to chamois and mountain goats.

The trail climbed nearly 200 meters into the mist before plunging 300 meters virtually straight back down into a narrow valley. But I didn’t know those important details yet, that whole straight up and straight down part.

By now the mist had made everything enchanting and almost mystical.

But there was one small problem holding my experience of the absolute in check: No matter how much I tried to keep my glasses from fogging up, they did — persistently. So I packed those liabilities away, all the better to at least see the trail at my feet. Those sublimely wild peaks and jagged towers were shrouded in mist anyway. And it was a long way down if I slipped.

The Abyss Stares Back

One stretch proved particularly harrowing, one I climbed grasping at slippery roots and iron handles bored into the rock to pull myself along, all the while trying to keep my footing along a partially washed out trail above a sheer drop.

In vain. I slipped on that partially washed out trail. An iron grip on those iron handles and the log bordering the edge of the trail caught me short before the slip turned into a fall, leaving me with a bloodied shin and a heart racing along faster than a speed metal drummer.

The thought of turning around flashed through my mind, but it looked safer to continue going upwards and hoping that I’d find a gentler path down. Hoping against hope, it turned out.

What goes up must come down, so the platitude goes. After an awe-inspiring walk among the giants, down it went. Down, along one of those impossibly narrow-stepped stairways more ladder than stairs, bottomless, like an abyss, the end of the ladder swallowed up by the fog.

The Stairway from Valhalla

A few deep breaths (and maybe a Hail Mary or two), and with all of my concentration directed toward those treacherously slippery step-rungs, I started, one duck step after the other. This is crazy, I thought. I gingerly turned myself around with a death grip on the railing and climbed the rest of the way down this massive ladder descending from the wild heavens.

The narrow cleft widened into a small valley after what seemed like an eternity, eventually joining the forestry road through a broader valley. Exhale. From here the path followed the languid Ilmenbach stream, which passes through the hamlet of Schmilka before emptying into the Elbe.

Schmilka: Beer on the Saxon-Bohemian Border

Halfway through the hamlet the road narrows at an old mill surrounded by a colourful ensemble of pastel facades consisting of a bakery, a tavern, and a small brewhouse. Even on this dripping wet Friday in early November, the bakery and brewery were attracting a small clutch of similarly soaked souls who had ventured out into the rocks.

The Gasthaus zur Mühle next to the rain-drenched terrace was the perfect respite from the chilling dampness, its bold checkered floor and stained glass panels in green, blue, red, and yellow lifting the spirits of weary wanderers, a cheerful sight on this gray day.

And the beer? The crisp and effervescent Pils comes unfiltered true gold, satisfying and snappily bitter, just what the doctor ordered to quench my thirst at the end of the hike. After finishing a glass of the caramelly Bernstein with its notes of spiced malt candy, I ordered another Pils to savour its harmonious interweaving of peppery hops with country bread and meadows in bloom.

My beer done and my pastry reduced to crumbs, it was time to brave the elements again. But before returning to Dresden, I ventured across the old East German/Czechoslovak border into Czechia a mere half kilometer from the Schmilka tavern. I felt a strange frisson as I thought about what crossing this border — so effortless today — might have been like at the height of the Cold War, even between members of the Warsaw Pact.

With a last glance at the Elbe at dusk, I got the bus and train back to Dresden through hilly nighttime landscapes illuminated by flickering lights in the villages of Saxon Switzerland.

Addendum: Route Description in Broad Outlines

If you’d like to follow a similar route through these dramatic rock outcroppings, here’s a schematic description of the 18-km route I took. This is no substitute for a map of the area. Pick up a free map at the outdoors shop doubling as a tourist info center in Bad Schandau. Better yet, buy a good one. The path names I mention below (such as Zeughausweg) are generally not named or signed along the way, but you can find them on Google Maps or Strava, which I use to log my hikes. 

And as I mentioned above, if you’re not sure-footed or have issues with heights, please do not follow this route. (For those with plenty of hiking experience and no fear of heights, I’m fairly sure the route isn’t nearly as harrowing when the path’s dry.) You can still get some beautiful views by doing the first part of this hike up to the outcroppings, then returning back the way you came as far as the Postelwitz valley road down to the Elbe. It’s then about 5 kilometers from Postelwitz to Schmilka along the river.

Start in Bad Schandau at the old iron-framed elevator built in 1904 and take it up to the top of the embankment, or look for the small path that leads uphill between two houses just north of the Hotel Lindenhof. You’ll know you’re on the right trail when you pass a monument to Luther. Follow the signs to the hamlet of Ostrau (also with signs for the Malerweg and the Schrammsteine).

From the hikers’ and walkers’ parking lot marked on the map from the tourist center, take the Lattengrund-Schrammsteine route marked with a blue horizontal stripe (also signed as the Klüftlweg, or gorge path) out of Ostrau and past the Schrammsteinbaude inn. Cross the street about 100 meters down the road towards the Elbe, then follow the trail up through a narrow cleft. After a kilometer or two, you’ll be face to face with those eerily beautiful rock formations you glimpsed in Ostrau.

*This is the point in the hike where, if you’re not so comfortable with heights, you can wander around the Schrammsteine massif before retracing part of the route you came and following the paved road down the valley to Postelwitz. Look for a sign toward Postelwitz-“Fähre, S-Bahn”.  

**At this point it’s also worth noting that although I haven’t yet followed the Elbleitenweg all the way to Schmilka from the Schrammsteine, this path might be an alternative for those who don’t do well with heights. Look for signs that say Elbleitenweg-Zwieselhütte or Elbleitenweg-Schmilka Anschluss. If the trail starts to exceed your abilities, just retrace your route.

Push on around the massif and into this forest of rock outcroppings by following the broad Elbleitenweg path north, then bank right/east on the Vorderwinkel path, keeping an eye out for signs to Schmilka marked with a horizontal yellow stripe. The Falkensteine rock formation will be on your left. Signs on this part of the hike point you toward Kleiner Dom-Schmilka. The path winds its way south and east before coming to a junction with Zeughausweg. Follow the curvy Zeughausweg to a three-way intersection of paths, where you’ll join a portion of the long-distance Malerweg along the Sandlochweg. Signs are for Schmilka-Großer Winterberg.

Soon you’ll come to that dead end against a rock face, and your only choices are up or turn back. (If you want to forego the ascent and retrace your steps around the massif, you’ll already have reeled in a string of stellar sights.) This is where it can get a bit treacherous if it’s raining cats and dogs and the fog rolls in. Once you’ve made it up the heights to a relatively flat section of path, you’ll leave the Malerweg and follow the signs for Heilige Stiege. And down it goes, this holy stairway descending from the heavens, depositing you in the narrow Heringsgrund valley.

The rest is an easy stroll. Turn left at the T-intersection and follow the Elbleitenweg into Schmilka. After you’ve had your beers, the choice is up to you. Walk back to Bad Schandau along the Elbe before the sun goes down — an additional 6.5 km, making approximately 25 km for the day. Or take the ferry and train back to Bad Schandau. If your next stop is Dresden, get the ferry and train back to the big city.

Related Posts

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Rothaus: Beer and Hiking in the Black Forest Heights

Berchtesgaden and the Königssee: Alpine Breweries and Lakeside Beer Gardens

All images by F.D. Hofer

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