Berlin's "Green Window" -- the Grunewald -- turns into a winter
wonderland when hit with a dollop of snow. The landscape of the city's
urban forest was carved out by the ice age, with hills just big enough
to provide changing perspectives along the dense network of trails.
The ice age seemed close in the 1950's when bones of wooly mammoths were
found in the Grunewald; it also seems close under today's snow covering.
What a joy to see the wide road untrodden! Man's impact on the
Grunewald passed from the hunter-gatherer stage to commercial exploitation
back in the Middle Ages. A thriving honey-gathering industry brought
settlers into the woods, and with settlement came fires and damage.
In the 1700's, rising affluence of the aristocracy led to the gradual conversion
of the Grunewald from commercial exploitation to state-managed; this was
hastened by the end of the honey industry, as sugar became available.
Working to repair the damage and to "organize" the forest, state foresters
conducted surveys, marked trails, built fire-breaks and planted marker
stones and trail signs. Against their efforts, mass recreation arrived--
first with organized "wagon parties" such as those run in the 1820's by
the Kremser firm, then with the suburban railways (first in 1838), then
the streetcars and finally the auto. The royal hunting road from
the Ku'damm to Potsdam cut through the heart of the Grunewald, followed
at the latter part of the 19th century by the Stadtbahn (City Railway),
and then in the 20th century by the Avus auto racetrack. The
latter, somewhat ironically, was incorporated into the Autobahn.
The worst ravages occurred between 1940 and 1949, as World War II and its consequences punished the forest. By 1947, forest rangers spoke out in frustration as, unarmed, they were overrun with lawless destructive uses, firewood gathering, etc. In 1949, city authorities came to realize that a revitalized Grunewald was essential for the life of isolated West Berlin, and efforts got underway to create the parklike forest that I found in 1969-71. We kept our eyes open for an odd mixture of wildlife that lived in this setting: tiny deer, wild pigs, strolling German families and the alleged woman who loved to run nude in the woods. In the snow, we could look for tracks of any of these creatures.
The Grunewald became a stranger place in the Cold War. With the
adjacent Havel beaches being within sight of the East Germany - West Berlin
border that ran on a line of buoys through the lake, military and police
patrols made their way along these picturesque roads in all kinds of weather.
The inviting spaziergang on foot through the snow could become a
miserable experience at pushing vehicles back onto the road. At other
times, winter or summer, training exercises sent troops into the woods.
The good news for GI's: we had to have everyone out of the forest
in time for the weekend, so that it could be turned back to its peaceful
recreational uses.
So the joy at seeing a forest road untrodden in the snow came not only from the psychological lift offered to the Naturfreund, but also from the realization that it signalled peace.
Credit for the historical and geological background goes to:
Behm, Hans Wolfgang; Zehntausend Jahre GRUNEWALD - Die Natur-
und Entwicklungsgeschichte eines grossstadtnahen Forstes; Kulturbuch-Verlag;
Berlin; 1957.