Landsberg am Lech, Germany

6 min readApr 22, 2022

I headed due south from Nuremberg and west of Munich to the town of Landsberg am Lech in southern Bavaria. It was an area that I’d been interested to explore but never had the chance.

As I’ve mentioned before, some towns in Germany incorporate the name of the river they’re on to differentiate them from other towns with similar names. This Landsberg was situated on the river Lech.

I booked an apartment in an old house which consisted of a living area on the third floor and a bedroom area on the floor above which was basically the peak of the roof. I had to angle my head to get into bed as the thick wooden beams pressed in above me.

My apartment was in a strategic location. The Bahnhof (train station) was only five minutes away by foot and the bridge over the river Lech just a few minutes further down the road. It was a pleasantly cool and sunny day as I set off to explore town, perfect for hiking.

A large fountain called the Marienbrunnen took center stage in the main square. The water was a historical meeting point for people out enjoying the April sun and a natural draw to laughing kids as they splashed friends with the cold water.

The looming Schmalzturm (literally “lard tower”) guarded the highest entrance to the square. The strange name recalled the past when women on market days would seek shade to set up their stands. The lard stayed firmer and thus sold better in the tower’s cool shadow.

Mariä Himmelfahrt (Church of the Assumption of Mary) boasted the highest steeple in town. Bavarian churches tend to be plain on the outside but extravagantly baroque on the inside. They’re also brighter with more natural light and pastel colors compared to severe Gothic churches further north.

Along a wall I examined an intricate metal memorial plaque to some rich merchant from Landsberg’s distant past. As I leaned in to better make out the details I didn’t really think of the merchant, I thought more of the skilled craftsman who created such a work:

Landsberg proved to be a pleasant place to explore on foot. Most of the cobblestone streets were reserved for pedestrians which gave the town a quiet and relaxed character. I stopped and looked in shop windows without worrying about a big Mercedes or delivery truck rumbling by.

Of course I did examine everything on wheels, from shiny, menacing BMWs to muscular Porsches in need of a wash. The Bavarian Red Cross Krankenwagen (ambulance) was impossible to miss in its neon yellow and orange livery.

As I hiked to the outskirts of town, I came across a quiet church surrounded by a graveyard sprouting old stone monuments. One family’s plot included multiple generations but I focused on a metal plaque near the ground topped by a soldier’s helmet. Felix Beck died in the service of the 1st Bavarian infantry regiment near Verdun in distant France during the first World War.

I soon came across another ominous reminder of Germany’s turbulent past. This was Landsberg Prison with its distinctive green onion domes. It held Adolf Hitler in 1924 following the failed Beer Hall Putsch in Munich. It was here where he dictated his memoirs Mein Kampf to Rudolf Hess.

After glancing at the prison, I turned back and headed over a small bridge spanning the river Lech. Crossing the Hauptplatz, I passed under the Schmalzturn and took a steep trail into the hills surrounding town. After a short climb, I paused at a wooden railing and took in the view over the jumbled roofs and spires of Landsberg am Lech.

A funny note: this holiday house stood just a few doors down from my apartment. Right next door was an ancient church and I stopped to read the plaque beside the door.

It read that the church was originally built in the 1500s for leprosy victims and later used to bury war dead. Crumbling monuments surrounded by creeping vines greeted me after I carefully opened the rusty gate. Along the back wall was a creepy ossuary still displaying skeletal remains.