In the series “I've never been to...”, our authors explore places in Munich they have never visited before – even though they have lived in the city for years, or even their entire lives. This time, our author Anja Schauberger is hiking to Kloster Andechs (monastery) for the very first time.
“How much further is it?” I hear myself whingeing to photographer Frank as I follow him through the forest. There are many routes leading to Kloster Andechs, one of the most popular excursion destinations in Munich’s surrounding area – and it seems we have chosen the longest one. A few hours earlier, we got off the train at the Seefeld-Hechendorf station – not far from Pilsensee, one of the lesser-known lakes in the Fünf-Seen-Land, which also includes Starnberger See, Ammersee, Wörthsee and Weßlinger See. I had been to this station several times before, but I had never noticed Schloss Seefeld (castle), which is only a half-hour walk away.
“How much further is it?” I hear myself whingeing to photographer Frank as I follow him through the forest . There are many routes leading to Kloster Andechs, one of the most popular excursion destinations in Munich’s surrounding area – and it seems we have chosen the longest one.
Our hike so far? The sun was scorching, even though it wasn't even noon yet. We passed fields inviting us to “cut our own flowers” and British tourists with their hydration vests, looking as if they were heading for a trail run on the Zugspitze rather than a walk to Kloster Andechs. This morning, as I struggled to decide what to wear, I once again real-ised that I don’t own hiking boots or a backpack, simply because I never go hiking. Which explains why, on the one or two occasions a year when the trail is more challenging than a gentle stroll along the Isar, I’m utterly lost – despite my huge wardrobe. Maybe I would go hiking more often if I had the right equipment?
But I read that many people walk the path to Kloster Andechs with prams, which appeased me. After all, I did not want to be over-equipped . In our region, people shake their heads at newcomers from Munich who stroll along the shores of Starnberger See in zip-off trousers and with hiking poles. Well, it's just as embarrassing now to stand in the middle of the muddy forest in bright yellow Adidas sneakers that have only ever seen city asphalt. “I didn’t think it would still be so muddy,” I say to Frank, who just laughs and replies: “Who could have guessed – after three weeks of continuous rain?” Oh man, I'll probably never become a real outdoor girl.
That might be one of the reasons why I have never been to Kloster Andechs. I know all the lakes in the area – you can ask me about great swimming spots, nice cafés or particularly good restaurants. But when it comes to churches, monasteries or culture, my mental map is blank.
That might be one of the reasons why I have never been to Kloster Andechs. I know all the lakes in the area – you can ask me about great swimming spots, nice cafés or particularly good restaurants. But when it comes to churches, monasteries or culture, my mental map is blank. That's a real shame, because I've always lived in Munich and there are still so many things I've never done: For example, standing in the court-yard of Seefeld Castle, which looks like a small market square with its shops, offices and Bavarian pub. From here, we walk down past the Schlosspark (castle park), babbling streams and enchanted little cottages and take plenty of photos of the Widdersberger Weiher (which, as a lake expert, I would not necessarily recommend for swimming, as the water is very murky).
Eventually, the forest opens up into a clearing with a pasture. “Sheep use to graze here”, explains Frank, who grew up in this area – so there is no need for a map or Google Maps today: he knows the way. From the pasture, we catch a brief glimpse of Pilsensee (lake). “We have al-ready made it this far up”, I exclaim happily. So, it can’t be too much further, I think. Yet we keep walking through the cool forest, which is a blessing on this hot summer’s day. Our path winds past cornfields and butterflies resting in the sun. The air is filled with the scent of the first mushrooms of the season, smelling of damp forest soil.
When we meet two French tourists, I decide to ask: “Do you know the way to Kloster Andechs?“ They point it out to me, and Frank looks briefly offended at my lack of trust in his sense of direction.
Before our trip, I had looked online how far it is from Seefeld to Kloster Andechs – my research said two to two and a half hours. But we've been walking for three hours now and there's still no sign of the monastery. Instead, we find ourselves in a forest gorge, where I slip and slide in my city sneakers. I am frustrated: Why didn’t I choose better shoes? And when will the path finally end? Despite the cool shade of the forest, my shirt is sticking to my body, I need a toilet and I’m thirsty. When we meet two French tourists, I decide to ask: “Do you know the way to Kloster Andechs?“ They point it out to me, and Frank looks briefly offended at my lack of trust in his sense of direction.
And then – just as I am starting to believe there is no monastery at all – it finally appears in the distance, perched on a hill on the horizon. I am delighted, but Frank quickly dampens my enthusiasm: “It’s still at least another half-hour’s walk!” That doesn’t bother me anymore. I have the goal in sight and quicken my pace. We meet a group who greet us with an American “Servus“ and I cheerfully return their greeting. My eagerness grows – for a cold beer, something good to eat, a toilet at last and a place to sit! Even the last few steps up to the monastery no longer annoy me. I can hardly wait.
My anticipation grows – now a cold beer, something good to eat, finally a toilet and a place to sit! Even the last few steps up to the monastery don't bother me anymore, I can hardly wait.
There are two pubs and three beer gardens on the grounds. We decide on the Klostergasthof, which is a little further down and a bit more expensive, but also more refined. Immediately, a front-row table with a view is ready for us and we are handed the extensive menu. Kloster Andechs brews its own beer, which is bottled exclusively on site. The monastery brewery is the largest of its kind in Germany and remains the Andechs’s main source of income. There are ten types of beer – including a special Helles that, as our waiter explains, tastes just like Oktober-fest beer. There is also a Bergbock, a Doppelbock and three different wheat beers.
Despite the wide selection, we opt for the classic Helles and when it arrives a short while later – golden, sparkling and perfectly drinkable – I realise that beer tastes even better after a long hike. In addition, I order a fantastic Wiener schnitzel with potato and lamb's lettuce and cranberries, while Frank chooses black pudding with mashed potatoes and thyme jus. After the meal, we linger for a while, enjoying the view, the peace and quiet and the cold beer. Two tables away, a group is playing cards and below us, the bells of happy cows grazing in a pasture ring out.
We decide on the classic Helle, and when it arrives at our table a short time later, sparkling golden and effervescent, I realise that a beer like this tastes even better when you've been hiking for hours to get it.
After our rest, we decide to visit the church. The “Holy Mountain”, as Andechs is also called, is actually Bavaria’s second largest Altötting pilgramage destination. Pilgrims from all over the world have been coming here since the 12th century. On the monastery's website, I read that every year more than 30,000 believers from around 120 communities make the journey to Andechs. In addition, the Jakobsweg (Way of St. James) from Munich to Lindau brings many individual pilgrims to this sacred site. Inside, the church is lavishly gilded – not large, but a true Rococo gem. We sit quietly on a pew and let our impressions sink in – or perhaps it’s just the fatigue from the beer making us rest here for a while?
Finally, we get up again. Enough sitting – it is already 5 pm and we still have to make our way back. This time, photographer Frank has a differ-ent route in mind. Our Destination: Herrsching am Ammersee. The way back always feels easier, even if the distance surprises me once again. We walk another hour and a half through lush green meadows and summery woods. Someone has attached a golden plaque to a view-point bench, reading “Nach Andechs ist vor Andechs” (After Andechs is before Andechs). I sit down and cannot help but smile.
The evening light flickers through the leaves of the dense forest and every now and then we catch a glimpse of Lake Ammersee below us. It smells of moss. Frank has taken off his shoes and is walking barefoot. We talk about our youth, about being outdoors. I ask him if he’s ever slept in a forest. Of course he has. Suddenly, the path opens up and we find ourselves on a tarred road, flanked by enormous villas on both sides. Some of them don’t just have gardens, but entire parks.
We sit on the shore for a while longer, buy a shandy from the kiosk and watch the sun go down. And it almost feels like a holiday.
When we finally reach the water, we’re rewarded with the most beautiful evening light. The sun is just setting, its glow reflected on the deep-blue surface of the Ammersee. I also take off my shoes and cool my feet, which have carried me almost 30,000 steps today. The cold water feels great. We sit by the shore for a while, grab a shandy from the kiosk and watch the sunset. A tour boat glides by, the air is clear, and the mountains stand out sharply in the distance. It almost feels like being on holiday.
