An Ascent of the Watzmann Ostwand
An Ascent of the Watzmann Ostwand R ic h a rd N. Me y e r T H E Watzmann, an 8900-foot peak in the Bavarian Alps, domi nates the ancient little town of Berchtesgaden as majestically as the Matterhorn does Zermatt. Many thousands of Americans admire it every year, for Berchtesgaden is a major recreation and vacation center for all the American troops and civilians and their families stationed in Europe. The posh Berchtesgadener Hof, which only a few years ago echoed to the “Heil Hitler” greetings of the Third Reich’s rulers, is now only one of several hotels still under requisi tion by American authorities. There is never a dull moment at Berchtesgaden. Entertainment abounds: all kinds of sports; visits to the bleak, bombed-out resi dences of former Nazi V IP’s; American movies and night clubs; snack bars and real bars. In particular, the American authorities have tried hard to rouse an interest in climbing. The challenge of the peak is always there, an interesting and steep scramble of seven or eight hours with an overnight stay at a comfortable Alpine Club house; and there is a “Watzmann Club” which issues certificates to Amer icans who make the climb. The tour is really worth while, with a fine view and close-ups of magnificent, rugged mountain scenery, not equalled on many a higher and more difficult peak. Despite these well-publicized attractions, the thousands of Amer icans in the valley rarely lift their eyes to the hills. I have been on the Watzmann three times by different routes; and, except my wife and three friends who once accompanied me, I have never seen another American on the mountain or at the cabin.
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