Going There #8: Hallstatt and the Celts
The enchanted fairytale village of Hallstatt, Austria, is a place you take too many pictures because you keep seeing something new–a different angle, a particular house that seems to drape on the cliffside, a change in the mists. I came here because of the Celts. This was where their ancestors flourished around the time of my new story and I wanted to see it again to better describe it.
When I decided I must have two nights in Hallstatt I tried to cancel the middle two of the four nights I had reserved in Salzburg. The Salzburg reservation, which I made far ahead of time, could be cancelled. The Hallstatt one could not. However I had used a booking company. They told me I had to arrange that with the hotel. The hotel people told me I had to arrange that with the booking company. After going around that circle a few times I decided I would simply have to double book. It turned out to be well worth it.
After I checked into my Salzburg hotel I told the people at the desk that I was going to Hallstatt the next day and asked where to find the bus stop. One of them became quite concerned about me taking the bus. “There are two changes,” she said. That didn’t seem like such a big thing. I looked into it. I could catch Bus 150 a couple blocks from the Salzburg hotel. The 150 would go to Bad Ischl. Bus 542 would soon arrive to take passengers to the next stop, where Bus 543 would pick them up and take them into Hallstatt. How could it be easier?
So the next morning after a lovely breakfast I packed my little backpack with all I needed for the two-night stay in Hallstatt, left the rest of my things in the room at Salzburg with a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door, and off I went. Caught the 150, which took me to Bad Ischl, end of the line for the 150. But when we passengers got off the bus we found no sign of Bus 542 or any indication when or if it might arrive. Our 150 bus driver came over and said we should take the train. It was better, and we could use our same ticket.
A train was waiting right next to the bus stop with several destinations posted but not Hallstatt. I asked around. No one seemed sure. Finally an elderly lady I guessed to be a local came back from asking and assured me this was the train for Hallstatt. I headed for it and another person said yes, it was the train for Hallstatt. I got on. The train left the station.
I saw a reader board that did have Hallstatt listed but Hallstatt wasn’t lit up like the other stops. I asked the guy across the aisle from me why that would be. He was apparently a local. He had his bicycle with him. He didn’t know. I glanced at the passing scene, wondering. Soon an announcement came over the sound system–in German. The guy with the bicycle nodded and smiled. We would have to get off at the next stop and catch a bus. There was something wrong with the tracks ahead. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I will show you.”
Another one of those angels when I needed one.
He did show me. He led me off the train and toward a waiting bus. A whole busload-size cluster of people moved toward the bus with me. Somebody asked in English if this was the bus to Hallstatt. The bus driver shook his head, answering in English. “I’m not going anywhere.” He was parked. Another bus arrived. The crowd moved as a single thing to that bus, and we asked if he was going to Hallstatt. No. The other bus would take us. We stood looking at each other. What now? Then the first driver cheerfully called out. “Oh, come on. I’ll take you to Hallstatt.” And as one we flowed into the first bus. And he did indeed take us to Hallstatt.
My hotel in Hallstatt was billed more as an apartment than a hotel. It didn’t have a kitchen, but it also didn’t have reception. I was to ask for my key at the Seecafe right next door or use a code on the box if I was late. I got there in plenty of time so a charming young man at the cafe had a key for me. When I walked into my upstairs room and looked out the windows my jaw dropped. The view! And my own private deck!
My hotel/apartment, the Hallstatt Lakeside top 5 Zimmer mit Balkon, was at the south end of the roughly one-mile length of the whole village of Hallstatt. The above photo is the northerly aspect of my view toward the village center. I don’t know much German but I might have guessed that “mit Balkon” meant with balcony. The “top 5” referred to my room.
This next photo shows the view directly across from my deck. Ah! The rippling water, the raw stone mountains, the clouds!
As soon as I dropped off my few belongings I set out to see the town and took the four pictures at the top of this post. And more pictures. And more.
I had been in Hallstatt once before, in 2006, with my friend Tilly, who was from Austria though she had never visited Hallstatt. That was in October when leaves had begun to show color. Now it was May. The weather forecast wasn’t encouraging, but you take it as you find it. I had my umbrella. For now it wasn’t raining and I thrilled to the wonder.
My plan was to explore the village for the rest of this day, take pictures, and locate the waterfall, which plays a role in my story. For some reason I could not find that waterfall. Once I thought I had glimpsed it, but when I looked again I didn’t see it. The next day I planned to visit the museum which I remembered being outstanding. I had a very different story brewing in 2006, one I had since abandoned. This time I wanted to know more about those Hallstatt Celts, or Proto-Celts, who are important in my new story.
The other thing I had hoped to do on my one full day there was to walk the trail up to the High Valley where I had set my Proto-Celtic village near the ancient salt mine. The mine has been in operation for about 7,000 years, going back well before the Celts were there and continuing during their time. I had gone up to the High Valley in 2006, taking the funicular. But it was the trail I wanted to see and describe. I had never been on that trail, and I was deeply disappointed to learn that the trail was closed for renovation. One of those plans I would have to let go.
Before I was quite done with my first day a light sprinkle began. Full of optimism I hadn’t brought out the umbrella or even worn a rain jacket. I hurried back to my room for my umbrella and long raincoat. I was too late for dinner at the nearby Seecafe so I had to walk the mile back to the main village through what had turned into a heavy rain. I found a nice place where I got an unusual but tasty pizza. I’d eaten half by the time I thought to take a picture.
Back at the room, where I could prop up a pillow and lean back on my bed and still see the view, I looked out and saw this.
Magical.
The next morning I headed for the museum and found my waterfall.
See it? Just above the museum rooftop. The museum wasn’t open yet so I searched for a way to the falls, doing my best to ignore a soft drizzle.
I met a friendly guy on the street, vigorously fluffing his white feathers, and one feather wisped onto his bill. Swans own a good portion of the lake–the real and not.
When I started up a staircase I thought I’d been on before I met a family coming down and asked if the falls were up that way. The man didn’t try English but he showed me the translator app on his phone that mentioned the “view.” And a picture with a fine view from up there. I showed him my picture of the distant waterfall above the museum. He nodded and nodded, pointed up the stairs they had come down and said. “Two minutes.”
I soon knew for sure I had been on those stairs the day before but apparently not far enough. You had to go into the edge of a tunnel for cars that hadn’t looked to me like a place for pedestrians. This time I went in and found it was well roped off. The sound of rushing water grew steadily louder. I came out into a parking lot and there was the full view of raging water in two tiers.
For all that power of moving water, I had read that this waterfall freezes solid in the winter. It also does so in my story.
Going back down the hill another way I found more lovely views.
I remembered the Hallstatt Museum for its excellent displays, but it was even better this time. Now I was especially looking for the Celts of course. There were also some good exhibits on the mine. The salt of the mine preserved materials so they know what people wore and the fabrics they wove.
The above photos show a miner’s pack for carrying salt blocks out of the mine and a diorama of a miner himself. From fragments left behind scholars believe the ancient people in the High Valley built their houses of logs, the corners interlocked as in the diorama, the way Oregon pioneers did. There were plenty of nice straight firs in those heights to use for that. I would get that in my story.
A huge necropolis of graves was found for the period 800-750 B.C. (my story opens in 750 B.C.), and many bronze tools and treasures were drawn from these, telling us more about the Proto-Celts. No princes’ graves were found, but the items showed considerable widespread prosperity.
I especially liked the above display of the swirled fibulas in bronze, as well as a bronze necklace. The fibulas were worn by men and women both, probably to pin garments together. The necklace came from a woman’s grave.
And above we have the famous Hallstatt sword in bronze. Note the long leaf shape and the ribbing on the blade. The richest graves contained long swords like this in bronze or iron.
A village on a sheer bluff has many steps. I traipsed across hillside lanes and up and down a lot of steps to get a feel for the slopes and the places my characters would go to appreciate the beauty themselves. That evening I made it to the Seecafe before it closed and ate delicious pesto pasta while still enjoying the view right outside their back door.
And so, one more look at the village on the southern end beneath the massive limestone mountains and the pretty houses that climb the bluff on that side of town. My room was just beyond the photo to the far left.
The next morning I had to leave this beautiful place. The morning broke with a hope-inspiring light, throwing a sheen on the water’s edge in the southern aspect from my deck view. The surface across the water never appeared quite still.
I would retrace the uncertain way back to Salzburg. It worked. I was glad I left the big bag in Salzburg so I could make all those bus and train transfers with no more than a small backpack and handbag to carry. I absorbed much on my journey into the enchantment of this place, and it will reflect in the work.
NEXT: Rooms with a View
