And sometimes, when the fog hangs low, they reveal themselves.

The story begins at Mittagsplatzl, where the Arberseewand drops 400 metres vertically into the dark lake. On clear days, everything seems harmless – almost peaceful. But when the fog comes, it appears: the Arber spirit.

He never shows himself directly. It is a whisper, a feeling, an image at the edge of the field of vision. Hikers report that nature was suddenly too beautiful: light that broke through the spruce trees like in a fairy tale; a mysterious path that invited us to follow it; Voices that sounded like wind – and yet were not.

This is how the Spirit lures people away from the path. Deeper and deeper into his realm. Until they suddenly stand in front of the abyss, where no one goes voluntarily. Some later say that they believed that the path led on – and only realized at the last moment that they were running towards the edge of nothing. Others felt a hand in their backs that wanted to push them.

Not everyone was lucky enough to stop in time.

And even today, when the fog creeps up the rock like a living animal, hikers at the Mittagsplatzl put their hands on the wooden cross that was erected there. An old sign that is supposed to break the power of the spirit.

But as strong as the spirit is, the summit does not belong to it. There is a different power there.

The Arber Witch, the most powerful and sinister figure in the whole Bavarian Forest.

At night, when the wind whistles over the hilltop and the radar systems stand like silent watchtowers, the summit belongs to her alone. Anyone who enters the highest point at midnight should feel their claws – and their teeth. The mountain was considered cursed for over a thousand years, because no one wanted to irritate the witch.

However, the oldest of the Waidler tell a different story:

Before Christianity, the Triune Goddess appeared to the people on the Arber – white, red or black. A guardian of the mountain. A mother. An oracle. And sometimes a judge.

When the new religion came, goddesses were turned into witches – and so the Arber became a forbidden place. It was only when city dwellers wanted to climb the mountain in the 19th century that the locals had to go up again. Out of fear, they built a small chapel to appease the old power.

No one knows whether the witch was ever really banished.

But some hikers swear that they have seen a female figure on full moon nights – high above the abyss, the wind in her hair, ancient and beautiful and ominous at the same time.

Down in the valley lies the Great Arbersee – black as ink, silent as glass.

Many believe it is an ordinary mountain lake. But those who are alone there, those who hear the wind fall silent, those who look at the water for too long, feel something. Something deep. Something old.

One voice.

A hiker once heard her whisper:
 "Not the right victim."

He laughed about it, walked on – and met a young couple. Shortly afterwards he heard the voice again:
 "The right place... the right victim."

A few days later, the couple was floating dead on the water.

Was it a coincidence? Or does the lake still claim what was once sacrificed to it? For the Celts, bodies of water were sacred places where weapons, animals – and sometimes people – were sunk to appease the gods.

The Arbersee, it is said, chooses its victims itself.

If you look closely, you will be able to see golden fish in the lake – their eyes like precious stones, their scales like sunlight. But anyone who wants to land such a fish is grabbed by the lake and pulled into the depths.

Because something else lives down there.

A giant, bound by dark water figures so that he does not haunt the people. He is supposed to wake up in a storm – and the water trembles as if from a big heartbeat.

The Waidler know an old oath:
 Never throw a stone into the Arbersee.

Because every wave is an answer – and a threat. Some say that the lake can rise and swallow up the entire Bavarian Forest if you disturb its peace.

Maybe it's just a warning.

But maybe not.

The blackness of the lake is legendary. If you dive deep enough, it is said, you will not resurface in the same water – but in a different place. A dark world below ours. The Arbersee as a gateway to the realm of shadows.

For the Celts, it was sacred. For the church it was demonic. For some, it's just a lake.

But those who stand on the shore at midwinter sometimes see white figures dancing on the ice – as if they were the spirits of ancient druids celebrating the victory of light over darkness.

The Großer Arber is not just a mountain.
It is a place where stories come to breathe.

A place that demands something: respect. Devotion. Attention.

And one thing is certain:

once you stand in the fog, feel the abyss under your feet, and a strange light flashes between the spruces ...

Then you know that you are not alone.

The three powers of the Arber – ghost, witch and lake – are still there.

And they watch the people in their actions!





Hiking with myth and local historian Sepp Probst

On the trail of myths. Hiking with Sepp Probst is an experience for the senses. His interesting, mystical and historic hikes are an experience for the whole family. Sepp Probst will be happy to take you to legendary places, explain interesting facts from the past, interpret and explain folk tales and tell eerily beautiful ghost stories from the Bavarian Forest.

Sepp Probst talks about Rauhnächte, customs and legends as well as mystical and historic places in the Bavarian Forest. Themed hikes, such as Rauhnacht, Walpurgis Night, Waizgschichten or Mythos Wolf can also be booked privately or by associations.

Author: MF-Redaktion
Sources: Traditions from the Bavarian Forest