After spending the night in Heibronn, we got up early to head to Adelsheim, a small town where my great-great-great grandmother was born in 1835. We met up with some potential relatives in Adelsheim and found that indeed, our relative named Schifferdecker from Adelsheim was related to them as well. They were very hospitable and helpful and gave us a tour of the town.
This is the church where my great-great-great grandmother was baptized as an infant.
The folks from Adelsheim are sometimes called the goat-warmers by those from neighboring towns. Several hundred years ago, during a cold winter night, a man in Adelsheim felt bad for his goats, and built a fire to keep them warm. He ended up burning down half the town. By now, Adelsheim seems to have embraced the moniker.
My dad and I in front of what may have been where our ancestors lived. Coincidentally, it's also the only picture of the two of us together.
That afternoon, we headed to Rothenberg, a nicely preserved medieval town which now seems to be the biggest tourist trap in all of Germany. We wandered around the town, climbed the original town walls, and also went to a criminal justice museum.
A lovely looking torture chair from the criminal museum.
The original city wall
On our way back, I really wanted to stop at Burg Weinsberg, which is also known for the story of the faithful wives. At some point in the middle ages, this castle was taken over by another knight. He was going to kill all the men, but let the women go and carry out their most prized possessions. So the women put the men on their backs and carried them safely out.
The castle ruins on top of the hill
Our adventure did not end there, however. Somehow, we managed to drive up to the castle a back way with no parking. When we got to the top of a very steep hill, we had no way else to get out. I didn’t particularly want my dad to back down a very steep, very narrow hill, so I somehow convinced myself that there was enough room to make a 15 point turn. After several points of the turn, I realized that I mis-estimated either the space, the turning radius of the car, or both. I had directed my dad in between two stones walls, about six inches from each bumper. Oh yeah, the car was a manual and we were on a hill. After about 10 more turns and me trying to hold the car from rolling while my dad worked the clutch, we finally got out of there, more or less unscathed. Unfortunately, the picture doesn’t do it justice.
We made it back to Heilbronn for the night, had some dinner at a local place, and made plans for the next day, our last full day in Germany.