Nestled in a silent glade high in the Mittertal at roughly 1,000 meters above sea level, the abandoned spa of Mitterbad feels like a place frozen in time. Once a bustling retreat famous throughout the South Tyrolean valley, it now stands in ruin—yet its echoes of past grandeur are still tangible to anyone who ventures here.
A Glimpse of Former Splendor
In the 19th century, the “Kurbad Mitterbad” rivaled the most celebrated alpine resorts of its day. Each summer, up to 2,000 guests arrived on foot, by horseback, or in horse-drawn carriages to seek relief from rheumatism, skin ailments, and other chronic conditions. Among its distinguished visitors were Otto von Bismarck, Empress Elisabeth (“Sissi”) of Austria, members of the Mann family, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, Peter Rosegger, and Franz von Defregger. The spa boasted 26 bath chambers—some carved from marble for discerning guests, others simple wooden tubs for those of more modest means—as well as two Russian steam baths, a full café, a bowling alley, and even an on-site shooting range. Radiating from the main building were shady promenades through mossy pines and fragrant meadows, where patients would stroll between treatments.
The healing waters themselves were naturally rich in sulfur, arsenic, and iron—long believed to ease joint pain, neuralgias, and women’s health issues. Doctors and bath attendants oversaw each course of treatments, guiding guests through mineral baths, compresses, and steam inhalations. It was a place of both medical recovery and social ritual: afternoon dances in the grand ballroom, coffee on the terrace, and evenings enlivened by chamber music.
But with the outbreak of World War I, Mitterbad’s fortunes began to decline. Although it struggled on for decades, the spa finally closed its doors in 1971, and the once-gleaming façade has been weathering quietly ever since.
The Quiet Present: Ruins and Relics
Today, the main spa building stands hollow and crumbling. The entrance, which was once a grand portal, now leads into darkness. One section of the floor has already collapsed, revealing a pit filled with scattered debris and old trash; it is best to keep a safe distance from this unstable area.
A side entrance, framed by a weathered wooden lintel, serves only to access a narrow stairwell up to the first floor. Climb the creaking stairs with extreme caution, and you may discover a handful of surprisingly intact guest rooms. Each still boasting dusty floorboards and peeling wallpaper. Faded doorframes hint at a time when well-heeled visitors found comfort and repose here; now, they serve only as silent reminders of a long-lost era.
Just beside the spa sits a smaller, adjacent house (originally intended for staff or overflow guests). Its roof has largely given way to decay, and inside, floor beams are rotten or missing altogether. Piles of rubble fill most rooms, and open shafts lead down into the earth below. Entering this annex is strongly discouraged, as the risk of collapse is high at every step.
The Chapel: An Oasis of Preservation
A short stroll from the main spa ruins, hidden beneath towering spruces and firs, is a small chapel that remains remarkably well preserved. Step through its weathered wooden door, and you feel as though you’ve crossed a threshold into another era: the vaulted ceiling still bears delicate frescoes and ornamental motifs, though small patches of plaster have begun to crumble and flake. The altar—simple yet elegant—stands ready for worshipers who, it seems, left only yesterday. Rows of wooden pews are coated in a thin layer of dust, and traces of devotional plaques line the walls. In the muted light, every brushstroke of paint and carved detail seems to whisper of prayers offered here long ago.
The Lonely Camper on the Forest Road
On the narrow dirt track that winds up to Mitterbad, you’ll pass an old, derelict camper van parked at the road’s edge. Its tires are flat and crumbling, windows shattered, and moss has claimed most of its once-bright paintwork. From a distance, it looks as if someone simply abandoned it decades ago. If you dare to peer inside, you might catch a faint scent of stale gasoline and mildew—an eerie reminder that human presence here has been scarce for a long time.
A Perfect But Remote Campground
Despite—or perhaps because of—its desolation, Mitterbad makes for an unforgettable overnight spot. In front of the spa ruins, there’s a broad meadow of soft grass that’s ideal for pitching a tent. Surrounded on all sides by dense forest and the distant murmur of a mountain stream, you truly feel cut off from civilization. During my stay, I didn’t see or hear a single soul for hours on end—no other campers, no passing hikers, not even the echo of a car engine. In the deep silence, the only sounds were the rustle of leaves and the babble of water coursing through hidden springs.
A Place Haunted by Its Own Beauty
Mitterbad today is more ruin than resort—a ghostly testament to a time when aristocrats and artists flocked here for healing and recreation. The spa’s decaying facade, the collapsing annex, the solitary camper, and the well-preserved chapel together create a surreal collage of abandonment and resilience. Exploring the first floor of the spa requires caution with every step, while the chapel offers a rare glimpse of unspoiled craftsmanship. Yet it is precisely this juxtaposition—of splintered floorboards beside intact frescoes, of overgrown lawns beside open vistas of the surrounding peaks—that makes Mitterbad so compelling.
For anyone drawn to wilderness, history, and a touch of the uncanny, Mitterbad remains an unforgettable destination. By day, you can trace the footprints of long-gone guests—wandering paths where they once strolled under the same towering pines. By night, when the sky overhead is spangled with stars and the forest hushes to a whisper, you’ll know that here, in this remote clearing, you are utterly alone, walking in the shadows of an age that has all but vanished.
