August 16, 2026, 2:10 pm | Read time: 9 minutes

There is probably little that a traveler, in hopeful anticipation of a vacation in nature, secretly fears as much as bad weather. Who would want to struggle through an area in the rain, soaked and chilled, perceiving it only from under the edge of a hood? Trudging through otherwise beautiful landscapes in fog and seeing absolutely nothing? In this sense, I was quite optimistic when I recently set out in mid-May 2026 for a five-day hike with my dog. Sleeping outside, walking all day, discovering beautiful places–that’s how I had imagined it. Well, nature in the Harz Mountains threw a wrench in my plans. And yet it ultimately became one of the most beautiful trips of recent years.

If you’ve ever waited out a snowstorm in your car at an altitude of 500 meters with an outside temperature of two degrees, you know: There are more pleasant experiences. And that was just one of the weather quirks my trip to the Harz Mountains had in store. Much more demoralizing was the rain, which simply wouldn’t stop for the full five days. Sometimes it drizzled, sometimes it poured so heavily that the paths turned into mud tracks. Dark clouds loomed like threatening mountains, ready to unleash another shower on me at any moment. Occasionally, the sun would break through, and whenever that happened, I laced up my hiking boots and set off. Because at some point, I had to realize: I wouldn’t escape the weather, but I could make the best of it.

A Different Mindset

And as soon as I changed my mindset, the whole trip changed as well. What I might have previously written off as a disaster turned into an unforgettable time full of beautiful experiences. What helped me enjoy the rain and bad weather in general were culinary delights. I decided to shorten the planned hikes and instead embark on a gourmet tour through the venerable inns of the Harz. This included places I already knew and others I had always wanted to try. And also true oases that I discovered by chance or luck.

Foremost among these places is the “Hufhaus,” located at about 500 meters above the town of Ilfeld. A local had told me about it during a stop at the “Ratskeller” in Neustadt, where I enjoyed an excellent wild jellied meat with fried potatoes. In the leisure of a rainy Monday afternoon, we got into a conversation, and I became very curious about the “Hufhaus.” Existing for more than 300 years, it was initially a count’s stud farm, then a forestry office, and finally a DDR company retreat. Since 1991, it has been a restaurant, and quite a quirky one at that. The old East German charm attracts busloads of guests, and the unbelievably low prices do the rest. The inn became my base camp for two days.

Also interesting: Why I Almost Never Plan My Trips

Busloads of Retirees

I had bumped up a forest path with the car. Indeed, there were other guests, and despite the late hour, I got a wonderful dinner. Over the speakers, schlager songs about eternal love crooned, a wood stove radiated cozy warmth, and the whole place felt like a mirage. Fortunately, it was still there when I woke up the next morning in my car during the aforementioned snowstorm. Already open from 8 a.m., I warmed up with a few cups of tea, and my scrambled eggs were served in a cast-iron pan. Anyone who has ever comforted themselves with culinary delights knows how much energy that can release.

I felt that energy and set off on a several-hour hike, knowing I would return here for lunch. Needless to say, the rain not only caught me but soaked me completely. The dog took every opportunity to shelter under trees. And yet I was in high spirits because I knew I could warm up and recharge at the “Hufhaus.” While my rain gear dried, I enjoyed the company of a large group of retirees who had overrun the place in my absence. The kitchen and service were working under high pressure, yet I got my meal absolutely fresh in no time.

Liberation for the Mind

So, the thought finally occurred to me not to let the rain and bad weather get me down. Instead, I decided to shape my trip a bit differently than planned. I am usually quite inflexible when it comes to plans I’ve made. Once I’ve set my mind on something, I want to see it through exactly as planned. Deviations from the plan, which only exists in my own head, put me in a bad mood. In this sense, it was an incredible liberation for the mind to be able to react so adaptively to the suboptimal initial situation. It’s a lesson I hope I’ve finally learned. And one that I hope will also be useful in everyday life in the future.

The new battle plan also included turning the intended hiking trip into a road trip. Instead of sleeping in shelters outside, I would sleep in the car, which my dog also liked very much. The one night we spent outdoors had been far too exciting and stressful for him. In the car, he would have his soft cushion and be able to sleep in peace. I remembered previous trips to the Azores and Iceland, where the car (mainly for cost reasons) had already been my home for several days. And suddenly, I could see the whole thing not as a defeat against rain and weather, but as an adventure. I would see the most beautiful places in the Harz, get there relatively quickly thanks to the vehicle, and stay (relatively) dry.

Also interesting: The Most Beautiful and Wildest Valleys in the Harz

The Explorer’s Feeling

Now, driving in the Harz isn’t quite as enjoyable as hiking, but many routes are truly spectacular. Like eels, the narrow roads wind through the hilly landscape, where, unbelievably, a speed limit of 100 km/h is allowed everywhere, passing small villages seemingly scattered at random. Deep forests give way to wide fields of rapeseed, and in higher elevations, the vistas are often uplifting. I spent a night in a parking lot near the town of Tanne, with a view of three distinctive mountains in the Harz on the endlessly wide horizon: Achtermannshöhe, Wurmberg, and Brocken. The evening sky put on a true fireworks display of primary colors, and I felt like an explorer.

In Tanne, I also significantly enhanced my culinary delights. Here, you can taste something very exclusive at the “Brockenbauer” inn. The meat from the Harzer Rotes Höhenvieh, a cattle breed that was actually already extinct in the 1980s. Thanks to skillful breeding, there are now about 1,000 mother cows again, and so I got to enjoy this specialty. A visit to the steakhouse had been on my Harz wish list for ages. Now, not least, apocalyptic fronts of rain and hail drove me inside. The meat was cooked to perfection, accompanied by an absolute Mount Everest of potato wedges. I then made a purchase in the farm shop afterward.

More on the topic

Hiking and Feasting The Most Beautiful and Unusual Inns in the Harz

On the Road With Your Best Friend How to Successfully Hike with Your Dog

Relics from Another Time

There is probably little I enjoy as much as good food. Otherwise rather frugal in everyday life–not always voluntarily as a freelancer–I have hardly any price threshold when it comes to culinary delights. An old friend once taught me the important lesson not to skimp on food, and I will always be grateful to him for that. And so the journey continued to the aptly named town of Elend, where the next highlight awaited me. A ride on the Harz narrow-gauge railway, with a steam-powered locomotive. The train and its small carriages seem like relics from a long-gone era. Visitors can stand outside on the platforms during the ride and film as you leisurely chug through the countryside.

I had to specifically tell the conductor my stop request for Sophienhof, as apparently, hardly anyone gets on or off there. However, I was now on foot in the 60-soul village, heading to one of my favorite refuges in the Harz. While the rain once again drowned everything, I entered the inn of the “Ziegenalm,” warming myself with a milk coffee, leaning against the blazing clay stove. As the name suggests, there are various homemade products from goat’s milk here, such as excellent cheese. The special goat ice cream makes not only the hearts of little hikers beat faster. I now stop here almost every time I visit the Harz.

Also interesting: The Most Beautiful Rivers and Waterfalls in the Harz

Change as a Constant

It is also the continuity and its importance that gave me strength on my journey. While countless things in Berlin change if you just blink once, they remain the same here, giving life a deeper meaning. Yes, you do come to such thoughts sometimes when philosophizing in the rain. Of course, change is more or less the only constant in life. But it feels good when you can determine for yourself how quickly it should occur. It is such places that give my existence, constantly searching for “higher, faster, further,” a sense of purpose.

To conclude, perhaps a little excursion into etymology from my favorite travel book “Blue Highways,” which also deals with a road trip. The Latin word “educare” is translated today as “to educate,” but in its original sense, it also means “to lead out.” Those who undertake a journey educate themselves by leading themselves out. Traveling makes us more understanding, enlightened, and tolerant people. Sometimes you can even learn to activate these qualities toward yourself. To look beyond the confines of your own mental corsets. All it takes is a first step. And sometimes a lot of rain.