Strasbourg train station	Colmar, according to the Top-25 map	Curb your dog here.

We crossed the railroad tracks through a tunnel, and made our way through a residential neighborhood where balconies were contained by bright red plexiglass.  We observed the clinic of one Docteur Pascal Garbage.  Shortly after we passed two churches situated directly beside each other, we were finally on an official hiking path, the Sentier des Trois Pays.  We expected the path to resemble the paths we were used to in the States, but in that expectation, we were mistake.  The path was just a sidewalk that is officially designated as a hiking path.  So we followed the sidewalk and hiked past the supermarket, until finally we crossed a stream, took a left, and found ourselves on a dirt road leading us into the farmland around Colmar.

It was a beautiful day.  Clear, sunny, and cool.  Shorty and I broke out the retractable trekking poles and struck on, the taps of our poles punctuating our shuffling in the dirt.  There was a light breeze.  Within twenty minutes or so, we were on the outskirts of Turckheim, following a road through a quiet residential area on the banks of a narrow river.  Near a sewer grate we found a helpful illustration of where to allow dogs to relieve themselves.

Turckheim itself is a medieval walled city, and looked the part of archetypal German town, with wooden beams criss-crossing through plaster walls.  We walked through the gate into town.  Cars lined the narrow cobblestoned streets, but few people were about.  An old lady crossed the street as we approached, glared at us, and walked on.  Near the wall as we reached the exit, a beater car had TURBO DIESEL SPORT painted in rough letters on its back.  A boy raced up to it on his bike, popped a wheelie and landed on its hood.

"Bonjour," he said.

Nearly immediately after we exited the city walls, we found ourselves ascending through vineyards in the Vosges.  The transition from the plains around Colmar into mountains was abrupt.  The day had warmed a bit.  I stopped and took off my jacket and sweater.  We ascended 300 feet through the dormant grapes, before hitting a roadside crucifix that looked down into Niedermorschwihr.  We passed through the tiny village, whereupon I took a wrong turn in an attempt to get around the mountain.  It was only ten minutes or so before I realized my mistake, so it was a short backtrack, until we were properly on our way to Katzenthall, site of the first (of many) castles we'd see on this trip.

The castle, which stood tall amid vineyards on a hillside above town, is actually not Katzenthall's most remarkable feature.  That award, I'm afraid, goes to the puzzling mushroom-shaped topiary in the town cemetery

Katzenthall smelled of woodsmoke. The streets were quiet. A few wineries had signs advertising that they were open for tasting and had rooms available, but other than that, we saw little evidence of human life in this dense collection of buildings.

We soon passed out of Katzenthal and were on our way to Ammerschwihr. The plan was that this was to be the next-to-next-to-last town on our walk today. Our intention was to end up in the walled town of Riquewihr, but it was now 2:00, and Riquewihr was looking increasingly far away. We were both hungry, and resolved to get some lunch in Ammerschwihr.

In the dry grass along the road, we heard frequent rustling as we walked by. Small, skittish lizards were warming themselves in the afternoon sun.  Most ran into the grass as we walked by; one pair, too busy mating, barely registered our presence.

A small church, overgrown and ruined, marked our entrance into Ammerschwihr, another medieval town that looked sizable enough to support a café or restaurant or two, but apparently does not. We sat down on a bench between the church and the highway, and had a lunch of dried apricots, dried peaches, and almonds.  A plain white cross, some 20 feet high, was planted next to the highway.

It was clear we weren’t going to make it to Riquewihr today, but Ammerschwihr didn’t look very hospitable. We agreed to see what we could find in Kaysersberg.
 

Vineyard above Turckheim	Cemetery with topiary in Katzenthall	Kaysersberg	Evening in Kaysersberg

Right outside Ammerschwihr, either the map was wrong or I was, because we suddenly found ourselves crossing the highway and walking up a farm road into the Vineyard of Doom.

It started innocently enough.  The map showed us picking up the trail at the entrance to this vineyard, walking through on what amounted to ruts from a tractor's wheels, all the way up the hill where another trail would take us into the woods and to Kaysersberg.  The trouble was that the farmer had recently taken it upon himself to do some improvements, and we soon found ourselves in the far corner of the vineyard, within 150 feet of the trail we were trying to get to, but barred by electric fencing.  I put down my backpack and backtracked, trying to find a way out of the vineyard that didn't involve going back to the highway, half-expecting the children of the grapes to show up at any moment.  As luck would have it, though, the farmer's sealing of the Vineyard of Doom was not yet complete.  I went back and got Shorty, and we proceeded up the hill.  It was a steep hill, though, and recently plowed.  I ended up climbing to the top, dropping my backpack, going back down to get Shorty's backpack, and finally extending my trekking pole to Shorty to give her something to hold onto as she made her way through the soft brown scree.

We were back on the trail, but the sun was starting to get low.  We walked into the woods.

Kaysersberg wasn't far, and we entered in the late afternoon through the cemetery.  Lucky dead people.  At least their feet didn't hurt.  Kaysersberg was the most substantial town we'd seen since Colmar, and it was a welcome sight.  A substantial mountain and a 1,000 foot ascent separated us from Riquewihr, but it looked like we could find a place here to stay the night.  Shorty had the same idea, located a bench in front of a hair salon, and told me to go find a hotel.

I wandered fairly aimlessly, vaguely following signs I saw here and there for hotels, keeping to the moat around the city and passing a small house with sheep in the back yard.  Eventually I found L'Arbre Vert, a decent enough looking place that was charging 60-odd euros for a room with 2 beds.  Not in the mood to comparison shop, I took it, then went back to find Shorty.  This took some time, because I went straight through town this time, getting slightly turned around and blocked occasionally by German tour groups.  Did I mention that Kaysersberg is a very lovely medieval city?  It is, hence the tour groups.

We got our stuff into the hotel, then walked to the supermarket we'd spotted on the way into town to pick up bread and cheese for tomorrow's lunch, as well as a bottle of Orangina.  The town was beginning to shut down as we walked back to the hotel.  Shopkeepers took windowboxes in for the night.  Shorty and I examined restaurant menus as we walked, but eventually decided on dinner at the hotel.  We ordered two different set menus: Shorty got the terrine du chef (which looked suspiciously like homemade Spam), chicken with reisling sauce (excellent), and a charlotte for dessert.  I got escargots (which Shorty refused to try), sauerkraut with sausage, and for dessert a pungent cheese with caraway seeds.  Not a bad meal, and the wine gave us nothing to complain about.

Back in the room, I washed my socks in the sink and cut some moleskin bandages.  Shorty watched CNN; war was brewing.

Onward!