Life at the Brook – a narration (part 6)

My home is Carinthia, more precisely, the valley of the river Gail. I grew up in the sixties and seventies in a simple family home on the mill brook, in Hermagor, a tiny town fringed by mountains in the Alps, where the smaller river Gössering merges into the Gailtal valley with the dreaded river Gail. My episodes "Life at the Brook" are about my nature-related memories.

Life at the Brook (part 6)

Powerful floods

A miraculous story of a historic flooding in Hermagor was not only handed down in writing, but was even recorded on a painting in the chapel on Thurnfeld, the Thurnkirchlein.

The chapel Thurnkirchlein

At that time, the local priest raised his arms to a prayer while a terrible flood raged. He trusted in the help of the invisible powers. It is said that the masses of water withdrew soon after he began to pray. This impressed the inhabitants of the town very much, of course.

On the Thurnfeld

Many years later I was able to cope with such a flood. For many years I lived in different Austrian capitals. At that time I was working in Vienna, as far as I can remember. I have already pointed out the curious fact that I was always in Hermagor when a natural disaster happened again.

During this devastating flood, I saw several tree trunks drifting in the gloomy, foaming Gössering, while observing the situation from my parents' house. A smaller trunk shot towards the park and got caught there. We were lucky he didn't reach our walls! The Mühlbach had already come out of its shores, the river Gössering seemed to be shortly before. It was really threatening.

The Gössering, a place for swimming in the wild in summer

The flood was already washing around our house and of course the neighbouring houses. It was a muddy broth! Like other car owners, I had already taken my car away long before the situation became dangerous. The fire brigade delivered sandbags and talked about evacuating. The water threatened to enter the house, although there were steps. The muddy water went up and up and we were all so anxious.

The tree trunks that the water tore with it as well as mighty branches threatened to clog the bridge which leads over the Gössering at a short distance from our house. It looked like the water was tearing the bridge away.

A miracle - or only a coincidence?

When the situation seemed so threatening, I remembered the story of the pious priest and tried to match it with him. I thought: If no one else is doing it, I'll try it out now. It was all better than just standing back and watching helplessly. Fortunately, there was no one near me when I spread my arms...

I closed my eyes and imagined how the water would swell and calm down again. And then it happened. When I opened my eyes again shortly afterwards, I noticed that the water level started to sink again. The sun broke out. That was something weird!

Was it coincidence or had I made a difference? Whatever. The main thing was that the water went back and the danger was averted.

Unfortunately, the tedious clean-up work could not be taken from us by the heavenly powers when they were at work.
Since then, however, I have found it amusing that a miracle is said to have been caused by such an occurrence. In the past, people were probably easier to impress and even more so because it was a priest who performed this "miracle".

My grandmother and my mother with neighbours in front of the house (ca. 1940)

Unwillingly in the water

A few years ago, I was told by my mother that a little girl fell into the brook, the Mühlbach, and fortunately could be rescued unharmed, in the lower market, in the Gössering area. This incident was also referred to as a "miracle".
Actually, it is more of a miracle to see how many children did not fall into the stream, because there was no railing anywhere else at that time and as I told you before, we children often played unattended for hours.
My mother remembers that at least once a child could not be saved. long ago. But I don't know anything about the circumstances. They never talked about it.

I'm also aware of a near-fall. In the sixties a boy (a later schoolmate of mine) almost fell into the Mühlbach. This boy named Thomas, as my schoolmate Gerli once told me, played with other children. Suddenly he stopped, staring into the stream. He apparently saw a blue object. Or maybe the sky was reflected in the stream. He mumbled, "I see blue - blue - blue - blue", bent forward more and more, lost his balance and would have fallen into the dangerous brook if other children hadn't pulled him back at the last moment.

This Thomas obviously liked to live in a risky way. My schoolmate Gerli also told me another story about him. Thomas played with her and other children in the Grabengasse, not far from the Mühlbach. Suddenly he had the idea to put his head between the bars of a window on the ground floor of her parents' house. He came in, but was unable to pull his head out because his ears were slowing down. The other kids ran to get the blacksmith, who lived two houses further on. He had to raise the lattice and freed the child from his bad situation.

With my grandparents and my mother

A risky rescue attempt

Strangely, I was never in danger of falling into the mill brook.

But I managed to do something else. In the place where the women used to wash their laundry, I once jumped into the wild stream. What made me do it?

I was about nine years old then. It was summer. I lost a bathing slug while playing. I don't know what happened. When I saw that the slipper was carried away by the floods, a twisted heroism seized me. The fear of a scolding was enormous, because at that time we had enormous respect for our educators. Blame and punishment were part of our existence at school and in the family.

It's understandable that I wanted to save my bathing slug at all costs and plunged into the floods. In such a situation, children don't really think about danger. At the moment, I realized it was not going well. The creek took me away with it. The slipper remained inaccessible to me forever.

A little bit further on there was a barrier, which I luckily got stuck on. Otherwise, the stream would have taken me with it and I would have driven away helplessly like my lost footwear. My swimming skills wouldn't have helped me either.

The pressure and suction of the water masses made my body feel tied up. I cried out for help with all my might. The noise of the stream was quite loud. You had to scream very loudly to be heard! I was lucky again. Our neighbour, Mrs Klabuschnig, was very close by. She heard my cry for help and pulled me out.

I should have learned one lesson at the time, namely that it is not worth risking one's life for trifles. But we humans are strange. I did a similar stupidity soon afterwards, on a boat trip in the sea. But that would be another story! And it also turned out well, luckily.

Bathing pleasure

But for me, however,"our" two streams were also connected with nice bathing experiences.

With the water of the Mühlbach we only wet our hands and feet. Because of the torrential current and the deep riverbed, it was absolutely out of the question to swim.

The Gössering river, which comes down from the Gitsch valley but does not give this valley its name, is suitable for swimming in the wild. It has shallower and deeper water, more quiet and rather wild places and some easily accessible waterfront pitches. On some sunny places, on summer days, a few people were looking for relaxation.

My summer bathing paradise was actually the Presseggersee, six kilometres east of Hermagor.
Sometimes it is jokingly called "Carinthia's bathtub" because in some summers it has a water temperature of up to 27 degrees Celsius.

But the mountain water of Gössering is very cold even in the high summer. This can be quite refreshing on hot days, but I don't seem to be predestined for the cold.

Year after year, therefore, the same ritual took place for me. I had to harden up and get used to the icy water. In the beginning, I could only stand it for a few seconds, with my feet in the water. Every day I made it a little longer and ventured into deeper water.

What a triumph if I could stand it again in the icy water. And then, even the immersion was bearable again! Happily and proudly I stalked around in the brook bed and enjoyed a few swims in the deeper water at the waterfall.

The Stone

A particularly popular bathing area was located deeper in the Gössering creek. Today this place is not so inviting anymore. A river bed changes its riverbed, and the people did theirs as well to make changes of the landscape.

Latvians (fine sand) and rubble along the stream made it possible to sit on bath towels or mats in a Spartan manner.

We children not only enjoyed the water, but also invented all kinds of games. In some places huge coltsfoot leaves, stinging nettles and other herbs grew in the shore area.
From a stray white currant bush not far from the road, a scattered sign of civilization, we occasionally nibbled a few berries.

The sound of the stream, the fragrances of lush vegetation, blue skies and sunshine and playmates. Our luck was perfect.

At this place one found also many especially flat stones, which were well suited for "flattening" over the water surface. A game that both boys and girls liked to practice. Those who created one or more repetitions found recognition for their skill among their fellow players.

At that time a narrow sandy path led to a ford nearby. It took courage to wade across the river. And you weren't supposed to be snivelling. On the opposite side we children explored the area, but didn't get far because a sea of nettles prevented us from making it.

It was even more difficult to reach a mighty elongated rock in the middle of the river in the rapid water from the western bank of the river (the Gössering runs in north-south direction). We just called him the Stone.

To the east of the "stone" there was an idyllic shallow zone where you could splash around.

My grandmother and my mother

Fortunately, we were largely left alone in the summer by insects. It was not until mid-August that winged tormentors could be found. There were only a few brakes that rushed at us, but as a child you are much more sensitive to pain. We were terribly afraid of these bloodsuckers. The appearance of the brakes made the wild bathing unattractive for us. There was no longer any talk of wild baths as an alternative because of the insect plague. We just met at the lake until autumn.

Wild bathing was really just an occasional change for us. We Carinthians are spoiled with bathing lakes. Lake Presseggersee offered more possibilities by far. This is where the bathing life took place, as we know it. However, the six kilometres had to be bridged by vehicle. We often travelled by train.

Now more than ever, wild bathing on the district's main river, the Gail, is popular. The paths along the Gail were gradually extended. Therefore, the banks are quite accessible. The wild bathing at the Gössering, however, might be history. But maybe I'm wrong.

The old Mr. Mende

But we children were also thrilled in a different way. A stonemason lived in seclusion where there was a glassworks and a tinsmith's shop at the beginning of the creek, i. e. still in the inhabited area of Hermagor. We were afraid of him.

But maybe it was the other round and he was scared by us children. The boys provoked Mr. Mende by not respecting his living and working area. He defended his territory, rumbling vociferously, and ran after the boys as fast as he could.

Vis-à-vis of his gravestone exhibition were wooden barracks and old horse chestnut trees. At that time there was no asphalt in our country, except on state and federal roads. Real chamomiles bloomed in front of the barracks.

When the collection time was over, I collected their blossoms. We would also collect coltsfoot flowers and later in the course of the year ribwort leaves. I took my groupage goods home happy, where they were used for tea preparation.

I did not take part in Mr Mende's provocations. Well, back then the girls were generally more reserved. I had a hunch the old man couldn't help it. Maybe he wasn't as terrible a giant as some children claimed.

The provocateurs, on the other hand, seemed to be convinced. This was probably because they thought up horror stories and believed in them and encouraged each other. Mr Mende was completely peaceful!

I received the final confirmation to this fact some time later because of a test of courage, to which my schoolmate Gerlinde spurred me on. We schoolgirls knocked on Mr. Mende's front door. Gerli asked him boldly, if he didn't have gold for us "from the gravestones". He looked at us in amazement and invited us into the house. He showed us his working place and showed us how to gild the inscriptions on gravestones and monuments.

Yeah, and you can't believe it. In fact, he handed Gerli a booklet with a few leaflets of gold leaf, and I was also allowed to touch it and try how fine it felt. At that time I also learned all kinds of things for life: that behind a rough shell there is a soft core and that you sometimes have to take the initiative to fathom something instead of accepting the opinion of others without criticism.

The next part of my story deals with further tests of courage, winter and summer sports and a sports accident. As always with many pictures!

I hope there was something inspiring for you again!

As always, I am looking forward to feedback!

Previously published articles in this series:

German

Leben am Bach - eine Erzählung 1 https://steemit.com/deutsch/@martinamartini/leben-am-bach--eine-erzaehlung-1
Leben am Bach - eine Erzählung 2 https://steemit.com/deutsch/@martinamartini/leben-am-bach-eine-erzaehlung-2
Leben am Bach - eine Erzählung 3 https://steemit.com/deutsch/@martinamartini/leben-am-bach-erinnerungen-3
Leben am Bach - eine Erzählung 4 https://steemit.com/deutsch/@martinamartini/leben-am-bach-eine-erzaehlung-4
Leben am Bach - eine Erzählung 5 https://steemit.com/deutsch/@martinamartini/leben-am-bach-eine-erzaehlung-5
Leben am Bach - eine Erzählung 6 https://steemit.com/deutsch/@martinamartini/leben-am-bach-eine-erzaehlung-teil-6

English

Life at the Brook (narration, part 1) https://steemit.com/story/@martinamartini/life-at-the-brook-narration-part-1
Life at the Brook (narration, part 2) https://steemit.com/story/@martinamartini/life-at-the-brook-narration-part-2
Life at the Brook (narration, part 3) https://steemit.com/story/@martinamartini/life-at-the-brook-narration-3
Life at the Brook (narration, part 4) https://steemit.com/story/@martinamartini/life-at-the-brook-a-narration-part-4
Life at the Brook (narration, part 5) https://steemit.com/story/@martinamartini/life-at-the-brook-a-narration-part-5

The story was first published here (in a raw version) https://reflexionen.wordpress.com/erzahlungen/erdachtes/erlebtes/muehlbach-stocksteinerwand/

Mini-Lexicon

Hermagor https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hermagor-Pressegger_See
Gail river https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gail_(river)
Lake Pressegg (Presseggersee) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Pressegg
Carinthia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carinthia