Near the top of the gorge is a tunnel cut into
the rock, where a hermit called Andreas
Pirnbacher lived a solitary existence in the
early 1900s, shepherding the occasional
traveller and keeping a godly watch over
the gorge. A rough-hewn wooden statuette
of him now stands inside, a reminder of
his battle won, like the urn of Alexander
von Mörk.
That aternoon I visit Hohenwerfen Castle.
No self-respecting fairytale is without its
fortress, and few are as impressive as 11th-
century Hohenwerfen, perched on a hulking
rock 2,000t above the Salzach valley. The
weather has turned sinister; rain lashes
down and mist gathers around the coned
turrets. Inside, hard stone steps lead to cold
dungeons where aristocrats and peasants
alike were incarcerated over the centuries.
I read of one prisoner who avoided making a
confession by pretending to be mute for six
years. These walls must have countless other
stories to tell.
Among them would be tales of Hollywood
hell-raising, because Richard Burton was here
in 1968 for the ilming of Where Eagles Dare,
that very 20th-century fairytale about Second
World War commandos on a quest to rescue
a captured General from the tower. Former
members of the SS were recruited to advise
the actors, and they even appeared as extras
in the movie wearing their own wartime
uniforms. As for Burton, it’s said he worked
his way through four bottles of vodka a dayduring ilming, with Clint Eastwood having
to take the handlebars during a motorcycle
chase because Burton was too drunk to steer.
On a grassed terrace outside the dungeons,
a falconer with a feathered hat is putting on
a show in the rain. A gyrfalcon plunges past,
zipping up into the grey of the sky before
swinging back down. As we’re distracted by
the falcon, an enormous ish eagle cruises in
low from behind, intimidating and majestic
like a bomber on a raid. Ater sending us
ducking, it perches on a turret and rocks
its head back in a mewing declaration of
deiance. Eagles still dare here, it seems
to cry.Lotions and potions
The next day breaks bright and clear as I head
a few miles west to the village of Maria Alm,
where geraniums bloom pink and red from
the Alpine houses’ window boxes. Silhouetted
against the mountains is a limestone church
with towering steeple. A family gathersAs we’re distracted by the
falcon, an enormous ish eagle
cruises in from behind,
intimidating and majestic
like a bomber on a raid
112 nationalgeographic.co.uk/travel
AUSTRIA