Schmalah See

Brilon-Wald (51.322942 | 8.564538)

In the river

Natural dam at the end of the Schmalah valley.

They say you never get into the same river. With respect: that also applies to lakes. This is the third time I've stood on the bank at the same spot, where the Schmalah reservoir is allowed to overflow when it has built up too much water. And yet each time I look at a completely different lake. On my first visit, I found it boring: too artificial, too quiet, not spectacular enough. Last year, at the end of a long dry summer, the water level was very low and all I could see was a lack, a paucity, something was missing. Today I am here again. A rainy day in spring, the lake pours down into the valley over a wide bed of boulders, white mist rises from the surrounding spruce groves and suddenly I realize: I like this lake.

The signs were not very favorable for the beginning of a wonderful friendship when I started my hike at the Feuereiche. It was raining cats and dogs and the towering work of art on the L 743, which is dedicated to the elemental power of fire, was almost impossible to look at without dripping into my eyes. I confess: I'm not one of those enthusiastic wind-and-weather hikers whose mood is literally dampened by constant rain. From the busy country road, the forest path led down into the Schmalah valley. Step by step, the noise level continued to Ebbe and I became quieter. I thought about how pointless it is to resist things that I can't change. In this case: the rain. And how liberating it can be when I can simply accept life's moments for what they are.

Perhaps it is thanks to this mental approach that I now look at the lake with completely different, benevolent eyes. Near the shore, the water level is smooth, in the middle of the lake the water ripples and shines silvery, even now, under a dark cloudy sky. A pair of mallard ducks paddle gently swaying forward. On the bank, beech and birch trees perform a slow-motion dance in the rising steam. A still water, deep in thought.

The walk from the fire oak to the reservoir has sensitized me to the perception of contrasts. At the overflow point, I notice that a tingling friction is created when the water starts to move. The stagnant becomes the flowing, the silent becomes the quietly chattering. As I set off from there to walk around the lake, I notice another contrast. Around the dam wall, the grass is mowed in neat strips, cut short like a golf lawn. As I continue, the shore becomes more and more natural. Dense bushes alternate with wild meadows, light brown carpets of leaves lead right up to the waterline, fallen trees are given a burial at sea. For long stretches, I forget that this is a reservoir.

When I arrive back at the starting point after completing the circuit, my view has changed again. I have gotten to know different lake faces and now know that there are two reasons why I can never stand by the same body of water. Firstly, because this shiny mirror always reflects new sky colors, seasons and weather conditions. Secondly, because I, as the observer, am never the same either: My inner emotional landscapes, mood colors and streams of thought are also constantly changing. The living resonates with the living. Always the same, always different.

Author: Michael Gleich