the secret door

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This post is about a 29km walk from Beuron to Tuttlingen. I find a secret door in the forest and arrive late to an appointment.

I got up, folded the plastic sheet and placed it next to the house, did my exercises, had breakfast, all while waiting for my stuff to dry. Then I got going. The monastery was there, and I figured that it might have been nice to look at, but I had somewhere to be.

the millstone

The day was warm and my walking was hurried. I needed to be in the next little town at about noon for an important appointment, and I didn’t want to be late.

Still, I stopped here and there for a little while. There were pictures to be taken. There were sips of water to be had. One time there was a millstone on the ground and a sign talking about a mill that had been here until the 1960s. A landslide had buried it and the family that lived in it. The millstone was a memorial.

And then, a little bit further down the road, in a patch of forest, I noticed the secret door.

the bottle of beer

It was located in the trunk of a tree, close to the ground. It had hinges and a lock with a key stuck in it. I stood there, staring at the little door in the tree, thinking of Bilbo Baggins and the Shire. I seemed to be the only one who had noticed it. There were cyclists on the road sometimes, but they all just rushed by.

I decided that I, by finding the secret door, had obliged myself to see what was inside. So I carefully opened it, and I found a bottle of beer, some plastic shot glasses, an empty bottle of liquor, and a few notes.

their note

NICE THAT YOU ARE HERE, AND THAT YOU HAVE FOUND THIS SECRET DOOR read one of them. It was a poem about a troll or an imp who lived here and wanted people to drink.

I decided that I, by reading the note, had obliged myself to drink the beer. So I drank it, and then I cleaned the place up a bit, put a bottle of vodka behind the secret door, closed it, and continued walking.

my note

Oh, and I also wrote a little note on one of my keychain fobs:


Of course I didn’t make it to the next town by noon.


the walk from Beuron to Tuttlingen:

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