Anyone wanting to discover the history – and the tales – of Lake Wolfgangsee is in the best of hands with Augustin Kloiber, the town historian of St. Gilgen. Visitors have to climb to the attic of the village's former schoolhouse to meet him. On the way up, the old wooden floor creaks with every step you take, giving you a clear sense of what it must have sounded like here whenever generations of schoolchildren ran across those same floorboards once the bell rang for recess.

Surrounded by historical books, yellowed photographs, and carefully archived documents, Augustin Kloiber tells stories of bygone times. In doing so, he opens the door not only to 150 years of summer holiday retreats on Lake Wolfgangsee, but also to a history that extends much further back.

"Many people believe tourism in the Salzkammergut began with the era of summer holiday getaways," Kloiber explains. "But Wolfgangsee was, in fact, already an extremely important travel destination during the Middle Ages." As early as the 14th century, thousands of people were making the journey to St. Wolfgang to visit where Saint Wolfgang had lived and worked. "Just imagine," says the passionate amateur historian, "at that time, the villages had perhaps 100 or 120 inhabitants. Then suddenly, during the summer, 80,000 people showed up, all of whom had to be accommodated and provided for."  

At the time, St. Wolfgang was regarded as one of Europe's most important pilgrimage destinations. According to Kloiber, only Rome, Santiago de Compostela, and Aachen drew more pilgrims. Many of them spent weeks, sometimes months, making the arduous journey to St. Wolfgang to visit the places associated with Saint Wolfgang that were also believed to possess miraculous healing powers. "People wanted to see where Saint Wolfgang had sat, where he had preached, or where his axe had fallen to the ground. They wanted water from the Wolfgang Spring on the Falkenstein, where, according to legend, the Bishop of Regensburg struck his staff against the rock to provide fresh water for his thirsty companion."

Over the centuries, an entire pilgrimage culture developed around these stories - including some of the earliest souvenirs. Especially popular were the so-called Wolfgangiflascherl, small bottles filled with crystal-clear water from the Falkenstein, believed to be a curative for eye ailments. "We even have some of these bottles in our archive," says Kloiber. To him, one thing is clear: "That was an early form of tourism, too - it simply had a religious background."

Augustin Kloiber's eyes light up whenever he talks about the old legends swirling around the Falkenstein – a place where Christian stories and ancient pagan practices come together. "The Church was very smart," he says with a smile. "It adopted pagan sites and customs, adapted them, and Christianized them."

One of the best-known stories tells of the construction of the church on the Falkenstein and the Devil's Hole, a place that had long been considered special even before the advent of Christianity. According to Christian tradition, Saint Wolfgang wanted to build a church there. The Devil – symbolizing everything pagan – naturally wanted to prevent that from happening. In the end, the two of them struck a bargain: the Devil would help build the church, and in return he would receive the first soul to enter it once it was completed.

"Naturally, the Devil believed that soul would belong to a human being," Kloiber says. So he lugged enormous boulders and helped build the church. When it was finished, he waited eagerly outside for his reward. But Wolfgang outwitted him. Instead of sending a person through the church door first, he sent a wolf. "The Devil, of course, was beside himself with rage," Kloiber says with a laugh. So, according to the legend, the Devil tore the wolf apart before disappearing through a hole in the rock – the so-called Devil's Hole, which still exists today as part of the church on the Falkenstein.

For the town historian, however, the story is more than just a legend. "It symbolizes Christianity's victory over paganism," he explains. Many of the stories surrounding Lake Wolfgangsee originated precisely at the stage where ancient sacred sites, nature worship, and Christian tradition came face-to-face.

The era of summer holiday getaways actually began much later – as an exclusive pastime for prosperous subjects of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. "The Salzkammergut, and with it the tradition of the summer getaway, became famous because of the Imperial Family," Kloiber explains. Emperor Franz Joseph, in particular, made the region popular. "Everyone who could afford to wanted to go to where the Emperor spent his holidays. Hence, they escaped the summer heat of Vienna and made a beeline for the refreshing Salzkammergut." The greatest refreshment of all was a trip across Lake Wolfgangsee. On May 20, 1873, when the paddle steamer Kaiser Franz Josef I sailed across the lake for the very first time, crowds gathered at the landing stage to celebrate the birth of scheduled passenger service. The first summer timetable from 1873 offered four sailings a day. The boat landings became places to see and be seen, where passengers and spectators gathered in equal numbers.

With the Imperial Family came numerous artists, including the renowned Austrian landscape painter August Schaeffer von Wienwald (1833-1916). Distinguished writers such as Hilde Spiel, Alexander Lernet-Holenia, and Leo Perutz – the so-called "Wolfgang Trio" – as well as Nobel Peace Prize laureate Bertha von Suttner also found inspiration by the lake. Many musicians came as well, delighting visitors with their compositions. Coffeehouses, ballrooms, and spa concerts flourished. "The Viennese simply moved their entire cultural life here during the summer months," Kloiber says. Even famous figures such as Johannes Brahms and the surgeon Theodor Billroth spent their summers on the lake.

The fact that summer retreats were also something of a social showcase is reflected not only in commemorative plaques, street names, and scenic viewpoints. So-called visitors' registers recorded which barons, industrialists, and artists were staying in town at any given time. "It was basically their version of today's social media," Kloiber says with a smile. "People wanted to know: Who's here? Where are they staying? Who might you see while you are out for a stroll?"