Down the Danube on a Zille

In October of 2014 I took a one-week trip down the Danube River in Germany and Austria on a glorified rowboat with three friends, all of whom I have known for more than 40 years: Gerd Berger, translator and tour guide, Regensburg, Germany; Ed Bartlett, bassoonist, Salzburg, Austria; Tim Chegwidden, wine entrepreneur, Woodbridge, Connecticut; me, writer and videographer, Pelham, New York. (Snapshots are via iPhone)

Regensburg, Germany, at sunset

The boat was Gerd's 22-foot zille, powered by an outboard motor and kept off the rocks and docks by a stechruder (part paddle, part grappling spear). The zille is the traditional work boat of the Danube, in use there for centuries--with a flat bottom and a lot of carrying capacity. For fishing, transporting goods and basic transportation. I nominated myself to be First Mate, which meant I did some piloting, pointed out potentially dangerous situations to the Captain (Gerd), oversaw stowing of gear, and ghost wrote the captain's log. Ed was Grill Meister. Tim was Castoff Man.



Captain's Log: Oct. 6 11:10 a.m. We cast off from a dock just upstream from the river lock in Regensburg, at 2384 km, which was the distance from the mouth of the river on the Black Sea. The  weather was warm and sunny. After passing through the lock we shot under the famous stone bridge in Regensburg and past a restaurant on the bank (enjoyed the previous Saturday) where women cook sausages over wood coals in a room that fills with heat and smoke.

Four guys in a zille 

Here's what it's like in a lock before the water goes down 30 feet

We stopped at Walhalla, a giant monument to European culture built on a cliff overlooking the river by King Ludwig I of Bavaria. We pulled up by a rusted tub and climbed around a barrier on the dock. The memorial was modeled on the Parthenon. You have to climb 368 steps. Well worth it.

Ed and Tim at Walhalla

As the sun sank in the West, we started looking for a place to stay. Niedermotzing looked promising on the map. We pulled into a narrow inlet and used the stechrudder and a paddle to navigate until we found a place to stow the zille. Each night we packed some of our stuff in a locker on board and carried the rest into town--including a backup electric motor, the stechrudder, a paddle, power tools, and other gear.

Zille hangout

The only gastof in Niedermotzing was closed, so we took a cab to nearby Straubing. The cab driver wanted to drive us to a whore house in the Czech Republic. No thanks.

Dinner at a brewery. Waitresses wearing dirndls. Some of us ate "oxe." Tim offended the waitress by insisting on putting ice in his red wine.

The main drag in Straubing

 In the morning, we provisioned up--buying an Agnes Bernauer torte, Gerantheres ham, and Dinkel-Grunkern bread, etc.

Meat store in Straubing

Captain's Log: Oct. 7, 12:40 p.m., we disembarked at the 2333 km mark. Many water birds on the river: cormorants, great blue herons, egrits and ducks. The river is dredged regularly to make it possible for large barges and tour boats to pass, but it also has very shallow parts, marked usually by buoys, so you have to keep a sharp watch, and not just for shallow water. Gerd almost hit a buoy near Deggendorf. Big guys up front blocked his view.

There were very few pleasure boats on the river, and only an occasional barge or tour boat. Mostly, we and the water birds had the river to ourselves.

Lunch beside the river

We stopped in a small town to visit the Dictum tool shop, which specializes in the finest wood cutting tools from Japan, Sweden and Germany. I saw my first Damascus steel knives, which are made by hammering on layers of steel of various quality and then grinding and polishing the sides, which leaves crazy patterns on the metal, like a cross-section of worm-eaten wood.

Ed Bartlett with cutting tools

At the end of the day we stopped at Niederaltaich, a small town that's home of the Abbey Niederaltaich, a large monastery with only a few monks remaining. It's a big complex of white buildings with red roofs. Once, the Niederaltaich monks ran the largest winery in Bavaria. No more. They sold their brewery, too. But the restaurant served good food and beer--Augustiner Oktoberfest, from Munich.

Cocktails in Niederaltaich

We stayed in rooms in the monastery, like so...

Guest room at the Abbey

Gerd and I got up at 5 and went to the morning service for one of the two orders at the Abbey, Benedictine monks. The service was held in a small chapel. It's Eastern Orthodox, so there's no sitting down. Three monks conducted the service. Six visitors looked on. The service lasted 1 1/2 hours. It seemed like the end of something.

Afterwards, I took a walk down by the river and out onto a sandbar where there was evidence of large bonfires. I could imagine the townspeople gathered around their fires at night with the black river rushing by in the darkness. Another sort of religious experience.

The abbey also had a fine and well-preserved Gothic church. The skeletons of ancients were clothed in finery and preserved under glass. There were oval openings along the interior ceilings, called oculi, or eyes, that allow you to look up into upper chambers, where there are paintings of angels and other heavenly beings.

Niederaltaich Abbey church interior

Captain's Log: Oct. 8, 11:25 a.m., 2276 km mark. We disembarked and headed down river. Seven herons stood in a row on a gravel bar, heads hunkered down like they are praying. We tried out the backup electric motor, which Gerd borrowed from a friend. It's very quiet compared to the gas motor, but, frankly, I'd take the roar of the gas motor over the whine of the electric any day.

At the end of the day we stopped in Passau, where two other rivers join the Danube. Like Regensburg, this ancient city was not bombed in WW II. At its peak of influence, in the 18th century, Passau was the largest bishopric of in Southern Germany. Its territory included much of Austria, as well, including Vienna. Then came Napoleon. After dinner in Passau, we wandered the dark streets where the floods of 2013 left watermarks above our heads.

Passau at sunset from downriver

 Here's what the shop signs look like in Passau.

Captain's Log: Oct 9, 10:30 a.m., 2222 km mark.  Shortly after, Austria was on the right side of the river. On the German side, most of the houses have solar panels on the roofs. The government provides incentives. On the Austrian side, there are almost none.

In Obernzel, we stopped at a marina where Gerd bought stainless steel carabiners, a small anchor and other hardware. I bought a carabiner, too, on the principle that you never know when in life you will need a carabiner. They have a huge, cluttered machine shop full of well-oiled machine tools.

The wind kicked up on the river, making waves that we had to plow through. Also, when we encountered barges, we had to slice through their wake. Combine those conditions with a heavily-laden boat and we began to notice cracks in gunnel on the right side. You could even see through the sideboard to the water rushing by outside. Fortunately, we were approaching the riverside shop where Gerd bought his boat (built to his specifications) in 2001. There, we meet Christian Konigsdorfer, the grandson of the founder. He's in his early 20s, probably. He showed us around and repaired the boat with some plywood, glue and screws.

Christian Konigsdorfer and Gerd Berger

In the old days, they made zilles with planks of fir and the seams had to be sealed by packing moss into them. They used bent limbs they gathered in the forest for structural supports. These days, builders use marine plywood and fiberglass. There used to be 60 boatbuilders on this stretch of the Danube. Now there are two.

Old zille

New zilles

That evening, we stay at the a fisherman's gasthof in Obermuhl. Here, the river is flanked by forested mountains. Swans swim in pairs. For dinner, some of us feasted on wildzeller--stag, deer and wild boar with brown gravy and red cabbage. We drank sturm, the first pressing of the wine grapes, a cloudy white wine with a zesty taste.

Wildzeller

Joke barstools at the Fischgastof Aumuller

Captain's Log: Oct. 10, 10:30 a.m., 2176 km mark. We continued through Schlogener schlinge, a series of snake-like curves where the river is flanked by steep forested hills. I was piloting, and I tried out a technique of steering the boat by standing and shifting my weight to steer. It works pretty well.

At noon, we arrived at the first lock that was completely in Austria and under Austrian administrative control. The lock master took one look at us from his perch in the tower and made us turn around and exit the lock. He sent a river policeman down to investigate. The guy was friendly, but, after inspecting the boat, he informed us that we were in violation of nine of the 11 safety rules for motorized small craft on the river. Among the violations: only one life vest, the anchor was too small (a "toy," he said.), and we had no fire extinguisher. He didn't write a ticket, but he sent us packing back toward Germany.

Arrested!

Our happiness could not be suppressed, however. We headed back upriver cheerfully. This was the most beautiful part of the river, so we got to see it twice.

Tim pilots the boat

View during the last lunch on the river

Last toast of the river rats!

We stowed the boat, took a cab to the train station and rode to Salzburg. Ed, the Grill Meister, grilled lamb shanks on his deck. We drank innumerable bottles of wine and watched the classic WWII movie Where Eagles Dare in the media room. Our journey had come to an end.

Later, Gerd took the boat solo back up river to Regensburg.

Berger's selfie