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Spessart
Spessart
The robbers are among us
Who doesn’t know the Spessart service station on the A3 between Frankfurt and Wurzburg? Centuries ago this was the territory of the legendary Spessart gangs. Today it reveals one of the most secretive ways to discover a German low mountain range.
Annette Johann
03/27/2008
It’s still fresh on this April morning. Maybe the thick jacket after all? No! That was yesterday. Today it has to be the leather suit. If the weather sticks to the forecast, it will be super warm by noon at the latest. The first nice weekend. The Corsaro rehearsal started yesterday. A few anxious moments during slightly unrhythmic, weak announcements, then she was there. Cheeky and loud – as the pirate name suggests. Wonderful. Everything checked again, filled up, greased. Are the axle, brake caliper and chain tensioner really tight again after changing tires? Everything tight, everything on. Pack your rucksack with the essentials and off you go.
Finally! The wind on her face again, the gas in her right hand, feel how she starts, her muscles tense. Stop, stop, not yet. She is just as cold as you! We carefully circle the first bends down into the valley, the dew of the night in the shade. Piano, piano, damp streets, new tires. Draw fresh fuel from the first tank. Well, it feels completely different. The 1200 two-cylinder engine is much more motivated.
Up on the autobahn and cruising the first few kilometers into the Taubertal. Apparently still dreaming in the quiet of the morning. Between weeping willows, alders and pussy willows, the last veils of mist waft, and the deaf circles almost motionlessly their apparently one million loops to the mouth of the Main. Occasionally a delivery truck rumbles towards us, otherwise nobody is on the way. The curves in the direction of Wertheim are drawing increasingly crisp radii and people and bikes are increasingly in close contact. Finally sit back behind this magnificent handlebar and let the day storm towards you in as little as 48 hours. The machine can now uninhibitedly off the leash and sprint through the empty valley. Undeterred by manhole covers, frost cracks or hairy curve exits. The Corsaro can handle whatever gets in its way.
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Soon the first old sandstone bridges and the Bronnbach monastery fly by, and a few minutes later the Morini is rumbling a bit vulgarly between the mighty sandstone walls in Wertheim, until the first stalls and street cafes stop us in front of the market square. Names determine destinies. Values were at home here. One of those rich, medieval cities that line the Main between Wurzburg and Aschaffenburg. The old trade route. There was something to earn. On three sides, the river surrounds the lonely and once almost impenetrable forest mountains north of the city, measuring 1,300 square kilometers. The Spessart. The pecuniary counterpart, so to speak – because there was bitter poverty there.
To the west of the city, a small road stretches first in long, fast arcs along the Faulbach and then climbs in ever tighter curves through dense forest up into the mountains. An imaginary pass top appears, crossed by several hiking trails. Over bumpy asphalt we rumble a couple of switchbacks down into a small floodplain. Turn three more times – and you have reached the key point. Both the Hochspessart and the famous inn. Myth and legend spanning centuries. Created in Wilhelm Hauff’s fairy tale almanac in 1827 and finalized on film with Lilo Pulver in his homeland in 1959. I’m at the A3, Rohrbrunn junction, and the »Spessart Sud« service area. A modern, glazed service area complex including a hotel and wellness zone. Refueling station on the Cologne – Passau long-distance route, which crosses half of Germany. Outside license plates from Holland, Belgium and the Ruhr area, inside voices from all nations. The successor. Just at the time of the filming, the original inn, which was supposed to be the setting for Hauff’s novella, had to give way to the construction of the motorway. The second awakening of the ancient connecting road between Wurzburg and Aschaffenburg. While the motorway police are on guard in the parking lot, signs warn of pickpockets in the restaurant. The old predator’s territory. Here, around Rohrbrunn, Rothenbuch and Weibersbrunn, they were suspected back then. Again and again travelers came for their belongings and stagecoaches and wagons were looted. In the forest there is a memorial stone at the point where on June 3, 1773, forester Johann Sator caught Johann Adam Hasenstab, one of the presumably last busy men in the Spessart, poaching and struck down. Hasenstab – a name that is still widespread in many Spessart villages today. The telephone book lists 23 entries in Rothenbuch alone.
Bumpy and with 1000 patches, a small road threads its way beyond the rest stop through the freshly green mixed forest towards Weibersbrunn, Rothenbuch and Waldaschaff. The temptation for robbery was great at that time. The impenetrable forest area barely offered its residents a livelihood. Except for a few “mobile glassworks” that made use of the firewood, the Spessart inhabitants more or less vegetated in the few villages. In 1852 the Bavarian government commissioned the Wurzburg doctor Rudolf Virchow to investigate the dramatic increase in deaths in the Spessart. The social medicine specialist and former barricade fighter of the March 1848 Revolution had already researched the depressing connections between illnesses and living conditions in Silesia four years earlier on the basis of the so-called “hunger plague”. In the Spessart, “which is also not one of the happiest zones on the earth’s surface,” he was shocked by the lack of elementary food and livelihoods, and above all by the miserable living conditions. “Large pools of crap in front of the houses, inside the walls wet and moldy, the residents crowded to the extreme … Sometimes up to nine people live in a dull, lightless room, often two to three people sleep in the same bed … something. What?” not infrequently leads to sexual immorality and social neglect. «It is as if hardship and desolation are almost still to be felt as I roll through the villages mentioned. Gray houses lined up along the street, faded plaster, wrecked cars in the gardens. A couple of loveless shops, pubs called »Spessarttraube«, »Zum Adler« or »Zum Ochsen«, behind whose dark heaped panes a stranger will probably never get lost.
Only the Hafenlohrtal brings light into the darkness again. An idyllic, nature-protected valley with giant old trees and mills on the wildly meandering brook, which a few years ago narrowly escaped flooding through a dam to produce water. In the upper part of Lichtenau there are two great old inns – the “Hohe Knuck” and the “Gasthaus im Hochspessart”. Here, wrote Kurt Tucholsky on a visit in 1927, he had a feeling of bygone times.
A little further in the direction of Aschaffenburg, and the Spessarthohenstrasse branches off to the north. It stretches 50 kilometers from Hosbach on the north-western edge of the mountains to Steinau in the Kinzig valley. In Sailauf it goes straight to the mountain with a strong gain in altitude, the Corsaro soars up. The forest increasingly opens up views to the west of the distant Rhine-Main conurbation. With a sigh of relief, I leave the memory of Virchow’s depressing writings behind me on the comfortably developed road and the Corsaro take command again. Shortly before the Jakobstal junction, there are already more than 500 meters of altitude difference, and a small ski lift appears on a free eastern slope. Only shortly before Wiesen does the Hohenstrabe leave the dense forest for an intermediate stage in a beautiful high valley. Follow it to the Wiesbuttsee, but on the right on a small “white” road to Frammersbach. Direct hit! What I suspected to be a better dirt road is pure driving pleasure over eleven kilometers. Single lane and only limited by two faded side lines, the small road swirls in a veritable crescendo of curves between the forest and flowering orchards down to Frammersbach. A few kilometers on the B 276 in the direction of Lohr, until shortly after Partenstein – the »Helminengluck« bus stop! – Another thrill is waiting. Again it is a “white” lane that appears inconspicuously to the left under the railway overpass, but this time it turns out to be a legally passable gravel passage over the ridge into the neighboring valley. Now real pirate terrain begins. The Corsaro grumbles comfortably on fine gravel in the direction of the Bavarian Schanz. An ancient signpost flies past indicating the forest slopes to Lohr and Ruppertshutten, then the slope descends in long gravel turns towards Ruppertshutten. A few more asphalt kilometers and the Bavarian Schanz lies ahead of us. Another wonderful Spessart inn, typically residing at a crossroads in the middle of the forest.
Through the Jossatal it goes back to the Spessart-Hohenstrabe and immediately afterwards to the next important intersection, the Wegscheide. Not a Frankfurt child who hasn’t spent their holidays here at some point. Founded in 1920 as a country school home with modern, nature-loving pedagogy, it was the ray of light of many big city children who often saw hardly a ray of sunshine between the Hoechster Farben, Adler and Casella works. After a long interlude as a prisoner of war camp and later a refugee center, it regained its original purpose in the 1950s.
To the west, a branch leads to the once glamorous Orb spa, straight ahead you soon reach the northern end of the Spessart. A few more fast kilometers, then the trees already open over the wide Kinzig valley. In the meanwhile cozy warmth of the sun, the little road bumps down over Alsberg and Seidenroth. Flies buzz as I turn off the engine to study maps. It smells of the country, cows and the sun-warm wooden beams of an old barn next door. A sign proudly informs “Suckler Cow Farmer Main-Kinzig” Below are the beautifully restored half-timbered houses of Steinau, the place where the Brothers Grimm worked. Those who collected their fairy tales there while their father hired himself out as a bailiff for the state. The inspiration for myths seems to have radiated into the foothills of the Spessart.
Behind Steinau it goes up into the mountains one last time, but for bikers with braked foam: the StVO denies them more than 70 km / h here. The reason is obvious. The next few kilometers ignite a veritable fireworks display of the most varied of curves, hairpin bends and crashes down to the Jossatal. There I see their characteristic traces for the first time: cone-shaped gnawed willows, expertly laid down trees, small stick dams in the stream of the Sinn beavers that happily curls through the floodplains. The little veggie robbers of the creeks. At home again for a few years and leaving nothing uncomfortable that could serve their dams and winter residences.
If I don’t want to lose sight of the Spessart, only a determined south course will help. On the hill near Zeitlofs, the first foothills of the Kuppen-Rohn can already be seen in the evening haze when I lure the Corsaro onto one of the last gravel roads. In Robbach, small signs at the entrance to the village point to the forest abbreviation to Rieneck and Burgsinn. But then it turns out to be unexpectedly steep – three mighty timber transporters thunder towards me on the forest path. Its huge cloud of dust suddenly takes away any view, I blindly push the Corsaro as far as I can to the right, hoping to somehow stay up between the trees and twin wheels. Then they are over. Phew They were the new rulers of the Spessart.
When I reach the Main again, the lights of the old towns of Lohr and Gemunden are already shining under the evening sky. A couple of street fighter pilots greet them from the street cafes on Gemunder Marktplatz. Dusty and happy, I let myself fall into an empty chair. It was wonderful, that first beautiful day of the season. And the Spessart was hardly less exciting than it used to be in Hauff’s inn.
Info
At 1,300 square kilometers, the Spessart is the largest contiguous mixed forest in Germany. What used to bring fear and hardship to residents and travelers alike today offers hikers, cyclists and motorcyclists the greatest pleasure: secluded, natural roads and paths with even some legal gravel passages. If you combine this with trips to the beautifully restored medieval towns on the Main, you will experience Germany in its most original form.
accommodation
Don’t worry, if you are looking for accommodation in the Spessart these days, you no longer need to worry. The original “tavern feeling” arises in the lonely Hafenlohr valley around the hamlet of Lichtenau. There are two ancient properties there: the “Gasthaus im Hochspessart” and the “Hoher Knuck” hikers’ home. Both offer quaint quarters, cuisine and affordable prices. From 38 euros there is bed and breakfast. Details at www.gasthaus-hochspessart.de, Telephone 09352/1228 (Fax 70229) or 09352/1320 (Hoher Knuck). The Florsbacher Hof in Florsbach, telephone 06057/1768 and www.Floersbacher-Hof.de, is modern, but also in a wonderful location at the edge of the forest. You can stay overnight here for as little as 30 euros.
The distance
You can’t go wrong in the Spessart – great motorcycle routes can be found almost everywhere between the Main, Sinn and Kinzig. The route described focused on the greatest possible variety and variety. The two gravel passages are easily accessible with any motorcycle in good weather – pay attention to the removal of wood! -, but also easy to drive around. The cards listed under “Literature” on the right show all the options.
Worth seeing
The wild and romantic, protected Hafenlohrtal west of Lohr offers a veritable extract of untouched Spessart nature: light floodplains, rustic forests, old properties (see accommodation). By the way, a citizens’ initiative saved it from complete flooding due to a dam project a few years ago. At least one of the medieval towns along the Main is definitely worth a break: Gemunden, Wertheim, Miltenberg or Lohr. The latter in the castle in the middle of the old town also houses the extremely interesting Spessart Museum. Telephone 09352/2061 or www.spessartmuseum.de.
literature
Reading material about the Spessart is usually only available in chapters in regional travel guides (for example in “Mainfranken” from Michael Muller-Verlag for 16.95 euros) or as a pure hiking guide (Rother Verlag). On the other hand, exciting things can often be found in local bookshops or the Spessart Museum. For example, the quoted reprint “Die Noth im Spessart” by the doctor Rudolf Virchow from 1852, published by orbensien rareprints. This time the optimal map comes from Falk, Regionalblatt 12, in a perfectly readable scale 1: 150,000 with a huge double-sided sheet cutout. Sheet 13 of the tear-resistant MOTORRAD general map also fits exactly, but is a bit more difficult to read at 1: 200000.
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