OBERKIRCH — It is not even 11 a.m. when I take my first shot of schnapps of the day. I sip it. Pear schnapps. It hits hard. I cough like a teenager trying a cigarette for the first time. It is clearly too early for alcohol. But I can hardly start my hike when it’s evening happy hour.
I have decided to walk the Oberkirch Distillers’ Trail. A day hike, just under 14 kilometers (8.7 miles), perfectly manageable. Without schnapps, at least. But of course there is no way around schnapps here. That is the whole point.
In Oberkirch, a Black Forest town of 20,000 residents near Strasbourg, roughly 700 home distilleries have licenses. The town owes this to a Strasbourg bishop who, 300 years ago, granted farmers a privilege normally reserved for coopers. Which is why Oberkirch is sometimes called the distillers’ capital of Europe.
Seven spirits
A themed trail devoted to fruit brandy might seem like an obvious idea in the Black Forest, especially in Oberkirch. But doing justice to both brandy and hiking is its own challenge.
I enjoy hiking. And I do not turn down fruit brandy. So I accept the challenge. After all, there are only eight distilleries along the trail, which sounds surprisingly few given how many licenses exist in town.
The Brennersteig begins in Ödsbach, a district of Oberkirch, lined with detached houses and fenced gardens. Behind one house, with a tractor in the yard, I walk across a meadow and head up a slope. The online map from the local tourism board shows that my first stop is close. I can already see it from the hillside: the Halterhof, a half timbered house with brown tiles, ringed by gnarled fruit trees, two large tipis tucked between them.
If I were not sober, they would be even more confusing. Inside the tents, benches encircle a fire pit, although no flames burn at the moment.
Johannes Halter welcomes me into his farm shop. Everywhere I turn, bottles of schnapps line wooden shelves. Awards cover the remaining wall space. Halter pours seven spirits one after another: a brandy from the Subira orchard pear, a Williams pear schnapps, a pear brandy aged in a Jamaican rum barrel, and a cherry brandy. He also offers liqueurs made from sour cherry, pear, and strawberry with chili. I fight my reluctance to drink so early and begin tasting.
“It gets easier to pronounce with every glass”
“Do you also have schnapps made from Jerusalem artichokes?,” I ask, mixing up the syllables. Halter bursts out laughing. It takes him a while to recover.
Jerusalem artichokes are turned into schnapps in almost every distillery here. “It gets easier to pronounce with every glass,” he says, pouring me some. “So?” he asks. “Woody, grassy, earthy, mild,” I say. He nods.
It would be very easy to linger at the Halterhof. Or simply remain on its grounds. The Brennersteig winds through Halter’s orchard, past 25 birdhouses, each holding a bottle of schnapps for self service. Payment goes into a box or via PayPal.
I feel like I have wandered into the Garden of Eden. Fruit trees and temptation everywhere. I try a brandy made from sloe plums, a wild plum variety. Sweet and velvety. Then I force myself to ignore any more birdhouses. Otherwise I won’t get anywhere.
Sipping is not enough
To steady myself, I drink water and bite into a bread roll. The trail meanders through more orchards, and I drift along with it. A moss scented patch of forest follows, and I suddenly feel as if I am taking a miniature hiking test: I stumble over roots, walk around a pond that appears so suddenly it seems unreal, and balance proudly across a log lying along the path. Proud because I avoid slipping into the mud. Another victory.
I reach the Grüner Baum distillery. It is tucked away behind a house. Crossing the property, the word trespassing flashes through my mind. But here’s a box of schnapps and a cash box. I could help myself here too. But I have an appointment. The distiller, Johannes Müller Herold, sporting a goatee and a ponytail, welcomes me into a kind of conservatory attached to the distillery. We talk about stone casks used for aging schnapps, about distillers from abroad who come here to start small distilleries, and about his Alemannic whisky. Alemannic because the grain is grown locally. The 10-year-old whisky is nutty and oily. One sip will not do, I finish the glass and abandon all thoughts of moderation.
When I hike, I usually try to think about nothing. I rarely succeed. But right now schnapps feels like a small miracle that, in the right dose, wraps my thoughts in cotton. Even the sunlight feels more vivid. And so does my hunger.
Back on a paved road, I find myself between two restaurants and face a choice: there will be no other chance to eat for more than an hour. Between the Waldhotel Grüner Baum, very elegant, and the Almstüble, almost as elegant, I choose the latter and order Spätzle with gravy.
I check my phone. I am lost.
Comfortably full, I continue along the edge of Oberkirch. Children are playing. Passing a house, I notice a glass case filled with bottles of schnapps, which I decide to ignore.
The Ödsbach stream murmurs nearby, and I wander into daydreams until I remember that the Brennersteig is supposed to be almost entirely on asphalt, only 8% unpaved. I check my phone. I am lost.
But at least I am heading in the right direction. I puff my way up a street. A sign covered in hearts appears: Schnapps to go. I am back on track and stop at the Sesterhof.
While many distilleries here can claim long traditions, the Sesterhof is the oldest. The farm has existed since the 16th century and is listed as a regional cultural heritage site. In the center of the property stands a chestnut tree casting its shade as Thomas Sester opens the door to the still house.
Inside, the copper still is set into the wall. He and his wife Carina mainly use their own fruit to make mash and distill it. They do not produce large volumes; they make spirits more or less on the side. “When it is gone, it is gone,” Carina says. At the moment, they have enough.
Temptation or moderation?
But after 14 shots, I am too drunk. And only now do I realize that I have lost time chatting. It is already afternoon, and I still have a long way to go. Impossible, says Carina. Not if you stop and talk at nearly every distillery. Embarrassed by my tipsy delays, I climb into Thomas Sester’s car; he drives me part of the way and drops me off near a wooded area.
No cars, only birds and leaves stirring in the wind. I had been hiking alone for hours, but now families appear on the trail. They do not look as though they are savoring the Brennersteig the way I am. Although, Carina said, perhaps very few do. Most drink three or four schnapps along the way. Or linger at a farm.
The path drops steeply toward a clearing, stones, scree, and roots underfoot, a real challenge for committed Brennersteig hikers. I sit for a moment on a bench near the Panorama Hisli. Bottles hang on the wall, along with a basket of plastic shot glasses and a cash box. I hesitate. What is a schnapps hike without schnapps? And without hiking? On the way here, I got lost several times, stumbled, and slipped. When you can no longer walk without incident, it is time for a schnapps break.
My hands grip the railing, my eyes sweep across the tops of fir trees.
Soon after, I stand before the Geigerskopf Tower. Tilting my head, I look up at the steel observation tower. Down here, I see only forest, though I am standing on a mountain. But up there I would probably see everything. Should I skip it? I still have several kilometers and two stops ahead. But hiking in the Black Forest without seeing it from above feels wrong.
After climbing the 90 steps, I feel as if I have taken four shots at once. Dizzy, yet exhilarated. My hands grip the railing, my eyes sweep across the tops of fir trees. In the not so distant distance, I spot my starting point and my destination: Oberkirch. Is the combination of schnapps and hiking heavenly or dangerous? Probably both. Anyone hiking the Brennersteig will battle temptation against the demands of restraint. And those who indulge too much may not reach the end.
Leaving the forest, the trail crosses meadows toward the Köbelesberghof farm. I sample four schnapps, including a spruce spirit made by steeping spruce needles. At the next farm, I try more fruit brandies.
As I walk on, the late afternoon sun breaks through the clouds and lights up the apple trees. Nearby, deer leap across the path.
In the end, I sipped 20 shots, bought four small bottles, and walked about 20,000 steps. My feet ache. My head does not. Did I hold back too much? I would say I drank just enough to enjoy even the final shot. I take a long drink of water, head to the station, and as the train sways into motion, my eyes close.