Salt Mines

It was just like The Lord of the Rings.

There we were, just inside the mountain, the bearded Gandalf and the two brave little hobbits, who were not at all afraid of the dark, eager for adventure. Their mother looked a bit silly in the miner’s boiler suit, but Gandalf and the hobbits seemed completely at ease.

After donning the suits, the group shot down into the heart of the mountain. The walls were stony and damp and the tiny railway was only the width of a single person. The hobbits’ mother clutched convulsively at Gandalf, whose eyebrows bristled.

The next stage of the journey required resolution and courage. All four sat on a wooden slide and whooshed down into an even deeper underground cavern. The smaller hobbit sat at the front, quite undaunted. Meanwhile the mother held onto the larger hobbit and closed her eyes tightly, trying not to scream.

At the bottom a wizened old man (not Gandalf) explained the workings of the mine. Then everyone crossed the underworld lake on an old raft, surrounded by lights that shone like mistril silver. After climbing out, the hobbits tasted the salty water and grimaced in pain, but strode bravely on.

As they rode in a sturdy cable car to the surface, the hobbits’ mother heaved a sigh of relief.

“But we still have to go to Mordor,” said the older hobbit.

“No way,” said the hobbits’ mother. “I haven’t booked any hotels there and anyway, we’re leaving for Australia in 12 days.”

In the nearby village of Berchtesgaden, the hobbits and Gandalf gobbled coffee and cake. The mother was sufficiently revived to go shopping.

Actually, the salt mines were a real thrill. I was far less scared on the slides than at Disneyland. The hobbits were in their element and Gandalf looked cute in his boiler suit.

Love from Ros