You turn off the autobahn and the city’s edge peels away: rolling Bavarian farmland gives way to the tighter, darker angle of mountains. By the time the minivan drops you in the parking spit above Königssee, the lake is already demanding attention—green-black water cupped by steep limestone cliffs that seem to lean in just to listen. A short walk brings you to the wooden boats; the driver calls out a fanfare into the hollow and the echo returns like an answer. This is weathered rock and clean air doing their work, and the day spreads out from here, shaped by three possible routes—the glacial serenity of Königssee and Berchtesgaden, Salzburg’s music-soaked streets, or the picture-postcard curve of Hallstatt and Lake Gosau.