When history comes alive: British journalists visit the Pongau Cathedral

Sometimes it's the contrasts that make a day unforgettable. In the morning, we laugh over coffee and regional delicacies, enjoying the lightness of a summer morning in St. Johann. But in the afternoon, as we stand in front of Pongau Cathedral, the mood changes – not to a sombre one, but to something else: amazement, awe, a quiet pause. Allow me to insert a brief explanation here for everyone: I am accompanying the group and showing them the most beautiful spots and places in St. Johann. The group is a colourful mix of British journalists, some writing about cuisine, others about family topics, so as a group we cover everything from good food to culture and great hikes. But now let's dive into a special day of the press trip that has remained very memorable for me and the journalists :).

The slender towers of the cathedral have accompanied us all day, rising above rooftops and streets. Now, standing directly in front of them, they seem almost overwhelming. 62 metres high, austere yet elegant. A journalist whispers: ‘It's majestic — but serene.’ That's exactly how it was: grand and yet quiet.

The creaking of the doors, one step inside, and suddenly the world changes. Colourful windows cast soft light into the neo-Gothic hall. No pomp, no excess, just space. Space to breathe, space to marvel.

The high altar, built in Gothic style in 1881, is the undisputed centrepiece. Figures, filigree canopies, John the Baptist and John the Evangelist. A colleague murmurs almost reverently: ‘This altar... it breathes centuries.’

I tell the story: from the first record of the church in 924, to the great fire of 1855 that destroyed everything, and the new beginning in 1857. When I mention the collapse of the tower in 1871, I see them imagining the scene. Flames, loss, and then the hope of reconstruction.

After the magnificent cathedral, I lead the group to St. Anne's Chapel. Simple, small, with a quiet history, probably dating from the 14th century. There is no room here for grand gestures, but rather for quiet prayer. A journalist smiles and says, ‘It's like shifting from grand opera into a whispered hymn.’

And that's exactly what made the day, from the cheerful clinking of glasses in the morning to the silence in the chapel in the afternoon. History can not only be seen, it can felt too.

photo credits: JO Salzburg