What do the film “Das Boot,” a Porsche 911, a Leica M3, the Bavarian lakes and mountains, and my wife Dani have in common?

This fantastic Sunday afternoon, captured on Kodak Gold 200, was one of those rare gifts where everything aligned perfectly: the weather, the scenery, the car – and, naturally, the film. Autumn 2024, and I was in the company of four legends: a Porsche 911, a Leica M3, Kodak Gold 200 – and most importantly, my wife Dani. Without her, I might have walked off the promenade into a puddle of tartar sauce. With her, every frame felt like a shared secret, a small triumph of joy and patience.

Our first stop: the Buchheim Museum in Bernried, a striking creation on Lake Starnberg. Founded by Lothar-Günther Buchheim – painter, publisher, author, and the man behind Das Boot – the museum juts boldly over the lake like a ship of imagination. Inside, you wander among expressionist paintings, folk art, African masks, and a balcony twelve metres above the water. Dani pointed out details I would have missed in my Leica-induced haze, saving me from my usual “art-blind” mistakes.

The day offered that rare photographer’s light: mist hanging like a silk scarf, pierced by sudden sunbeams. Kodak Gold 200 thrives in such conditions, flattering the scene without shouting. It’s like the Leica in film form: understated, precise, quietly brilliant – rather like Dani herself, who keeps me honest and occasionally reminds me not to bump the Porsche while framing a shot.

From Bernried, the 911 purred to the Ammersee, stopping at the legendary Fischsemmel stand. A fish roll in one hand, the Leica in the other, Dani at my side, laughing at my attempts to maintain dignity with tartar sauce nearby. The promenade was alive, families strolling, seagulls scheming, the Porsche patiently waiting by the road.

Back to Bad Tölz, along the historic Marktstraße: cobbled streets, painted façades, Alps looming behind. Leica around my neck, last frames of Gold 200 loaded, four legends moved together through mist, sun, and autumn wonder.

And yes, the scans (Rollei DF-S 180, blue-green tendencies included) are imperfect. But that is intentional. Perfection is overrated. Honesty, humour, and a touch of mist – that’s the magic.

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