Fly Fishing Bavaria: Last Train to Altenau

Everything closes down on Sundays in Germany, a national day of the week dedicated to rest and observance. This is especially true in the largely Catholic state of Bavaria. A few essentials remain open, the public transit system being one of these.

Opting out of renting a car while traveling abroad, not impossible in countries like Germany, does require some careful planning as you venture further away from the crowded metropolises. In addition to saving a solid chuck of change, it takes you on routes through the countryside that you would otherwise not see. It took some convincing my travel partner (Mom) but this is the method we chose to take on this trip.

At the edge of Oberammergau is a small enclosure with a bench next to a digital ticket kiosk; a modest train station. Every 21st minute of the hour, a firehouse red train pulls into the bay, about 4 or 5 cabins in length. German train conductors possess the acuity of metronome timing – a promptness that is deeply ingrained into the national psyche.

On an early July afternoon, we paid a few Euros and boarded the train destined for the even quieter Alpine village of Altenau. It is near this village that I would be fly fishing a stretch of the Ammer River later in the week. Today would be a scouting trip, and a first glimpse at the section of river that I had been pouring over since January.

It had been raining on and off all day, but these are the Alps and on most humid summer days this is to be expected. We departed Oberammergau under cloudy skies with a bright sun peeking through.

After a 12 minute train ride, we stepped out onto the platform at Altenau – it was almost identical to the one in Oberammergau just without the digital ticket kiosk. The train departed and we crossed the tracks, following a lightly trodden path through the meadow on the other side. Our task now was to navigate our way through town nearly one mile to a crossing where we would find the Ammer River flowing (on Google Maps this appeared to be quite easy…).

We wandered aimlessly for awhile through the quiet residential streets of Altenau. The vibe in town was quintessential Bavarian. Off-white or wooden sided houses with red clay rooftops, meticulously manicured landscaping and a single compact European made car parked out front. Bright red flowers bloomed from window boxes displayed by nearly every home. Eventually we dead-ended at the edge of town where driveways gave way to forest. We had to have been getting close to the Ammer, but were forced to retreat when continuing on meant crossing private lines – and given the seriousness of laws surrounding something as recreative as fly fishing, I didn’t want to find out how trespassing was handled.

Eventually we made it to the main road skirting the village, Unternoggstraße. A small stream ran parallel to the road. I soon recognized the stream from my research. It was the Pflügerkreutgraben, a small tributary of the Ammer. It could be fished for a 10 Euro per day fee and was suggested for youth and beginning fly fisherman. It appeared quite overgrown and difficult to fly cast on – a series of short waterfalls creating pools between stretches of water only inches in depth. I saw a few small browns dart for cover as we hiked the edge of the road above.

Eventually we did make it to the Ammer. After a short hike down a forest path, stopping to observe a sign highlighting the native grayling (endangered in Bavaria) of the Ammer, the river opened up to us in full glory. Beautiful turquoise water rifled between the rocky shorelines, set against the alpine backdrop. I was in my glory.

The stay was short lived, as dark clouds began to roll in shortly after our arrival. We could hear the sound of oncoming rain and cracks of thunder. We left the stream and began on the road back into town just as the rain started coming down. A bit dejected at a scouting trip cut short, I reminded myself that this was only a tease of what I would be able to explore in the week ahead.

At one point along the way, the rain became torrential and we found shelter underneath the shade of a tree near some cattle. The locals say that these herds once wore large bells on their necks, which were removed only in recent times due to noise complaints.

Jean-Pierre had told us about a wirtshaus in town, which directly translates to tavern in English. He insisted that it was not a tavern, because they sold fishing day passes for the local club and in general, served as a kind of community center. They also served good food and local beer. We stopped there as a refuge from the storm and ate a tasty meal before catching the train back to Oberammergau. Tomorrow I would attempt to, at long last, receive my touristenfischereischein from the local government office.